WARNING!!! The following post is a rant vomit session that you may not want to read for fear it may overwhelm you as much as it did the writer of such filth...proceed with caution:

I have discovered a dilemma with temping. While mindlessly stuffing papers into envelopes and listening to Mike Doughty and the Garden State sountrack for the 18th time in a row on my ghetto MP3 player, I realized that this office work I was doing wasn't mindless. It is mind-full! As in, my mind started to wander into the bad places I try to avoid. Like the places where I get sad and keep thinking about how much my life blows and jesus will I ever be able to afford the things I want, and why am I even here doing this, why aren't I traveling or writing or helping starving children eat some porriage or something!
Then I can't get the thoughts out. They have become a force not to be reckoned with. They dance and laugh at me, swirling in my head like so many brain tumors. I start to let Zack Bratt's music choice effect my mood as well, and suddenly I am almost weeping because right when I realize I am turning 27 in 21 days I hear the lyric "Let go, what are you waiting for, there is beauty in the breakdown...." And so I follow the advice and am now tearing up for reals, oh god, yeah, I am really gonna cry here at this stupid freaking HR desk that isn't even mine. While I stuff pamphlets into envelopes. Pamphlets about the risks of being fat stuffed into envelopes to be mailed to fat people. Oh god this is terrible. I want to leave. I can't leave. I have to make money. I can't even afford to take a class to better myself and get myself the hell out of this situation of having way too much brains and not enough experience to get a real thinking job, instead I have to sit here and do what monkeys could do. And know that I could be actually utilized so much better somewhere else but no one would ever give me a chance because who the fuck am I???

Ok so that was a taste of the bad places my brain went today. Now it is a bit more clear why I choose to avoid these places.

But temping is now a portal to hell, as far as I am concerned. I just think about all the no money I am making and being unhappy. And I feel very stuck though I know I am not. I know I can just "let go, jump in, what am I waiting for?" But somehow even knowing that congnatively, I am paralyzed. I have concrete slabs on my feet and move a lot slower with them. These slabs are made of insecurity and fear. Hooray! help!