I've been in touch with my inner terrorist for some time now. I've decided to give him a name, and that name is Bruno. Bruno is where my really wild and wicked ideas come from. Bruno is my desire to kill. Bruno is the urge to run places with ruck and rifle. Bruno loved basic training.
Actually Bruno is where a good portion of my honor comes from too. Bruno is weird. I'm still exploring what edges of me can be attributed to him.
We aren't really separate though; this is all me, but there is a me that remembers another time and another feeling. This is why I think differently.
I'm in a strange place, with some strange ideas. It's a lot like that place I was around last Easter, when I had a religious event. Maybe another religious event is coming.
Maybe my bamboo needs more water.
I feel like a character in a movie. Like this is staged, faked, and observed. Unreal. Every little prop is in its place. Every scrap of costuming is just right.
I have a headache. And a fury. Every goddamned minute of my life is planned and scheduled and laid out flat and proper. It has to be. This is how I have slowly gained control over the last months. Making time. Allocating resources. Budgeting. I don't care so much about the money thing, but the time, the time... That sticks in my craw. It's too tight.
My weekday schedule looks like this:
5:25 am - The alarm clock goes off.
6:00 am - I pry myself out of bed and get online.
6:30 am - I drag myself offline and into the shower. I dress right after that.
7:00 am - Prod the children to get up although their alarm has been going off since 6:45. Make them get dressed and ready.
7:45 - 8:00 am - Attempt to leave, children and all. Take them to school.
8:30 - 9:00 am - Get to work. How early depends on how well I did with the last item.
4:50 - 5:00 pm - Leave work. Very narrow window of opportunity to pick up kids.
5:30 - 5:45 pm - Pick up kids in various places.
6:00 pm - Prepare and eat supper.
7:00 pm - Begin homework.
8:15 pm - Kids brush teeth, get in bed if they want a story.
8:30 pm - Kids get in bed if they didn't want a story at 8:15. I clean up whatever happened since 6:00.
9:00 - 11:00 pm - This is it. Anything I do for me, has to be done here, if remotely possible. I get online if I can. I usually have brought home work that I am now too tired to do. I used to write in my journal in this time, but that has long passed. I try to check email just now.
11:00 - 11:30 pm - Try and stop doing whatever I was just doing and actually GET in the bed. If I stay up to read or to masturbate, for instance, I will drag ass all day the next day.
Now what the fuck kind of schedule is it when you don't have time to masturbate?! Notice there is no "bathe kids" up there? When do you think it should be? Most weeks it just can't be factored in, and the homework doesn't even get all done, so my kids go a week between baths, and their teachers are frustrated. Does that strike you as right? Do you see any time for buying groceries?
My weekend is a little different, but just as frustrating. It means trying to build some momentum both for me and my children, and usually trying to work in some on-site work related tasks, although with kids in tow, I can only do that before 11 or after 5, when the sales offices are not open. I did not succeed much this weekend. It also means laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, whatever else didn't get done during the week, and I am too damned tired by the weekend to do it. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
Now, for a time, I could offset some of this frustration by doing some of my email and personal administrative needs (like the budget, for instance) while at work dangling on hold on the phone or in between tasks. I can't do that anymore because now I have to keep a log of everything I do, of every half hour and how I spent it.
I have NEVER played along with this sort of thing at any place I have worked. I have made a point all my life of not taking jobs where this sort of thing was done. And yet there I am, accounting for my minutes.
It rankles. As you see, in my life, I really don't need this.
I don't feel useful. I don't feel respected. I sure as hell don't feel free. Bruno hates that.
