Tuesday, May 31, 2011

The summer of George? (unedited)

The summer of George turned out to be a lost summer for George Costanza. I can't afford a lost summer.

I have a new manager at work. He's at least the fifth manager I have had in the past six years. he's young, confident in his abilities and rubs me the wrong way. He has no real managerial experience, and the little things he nitpicks about remind me, yet again, that my life is one big waste of time. My company is a joke, and after more than 13 years, the joke is on me. I have pissed away more than six years working for a despicable company, if not more. I know every day of my life since Dec. 9, 2004, has been pissed away.

I have spent most of 2011 wondering what I'm living for. The answer is nothing. I haven't been enamored with my job for years, but I don't know what else to do. I can't wait much longer for the answer to magically appear. My job is the most significant thing in my life, unfortunately, and it's killing me. It is literally killing me.

When my girlfriend left Minnesota in early February, I was doubtful that I would ever move to be with her. I don't know what I expected to happen, but packing up and leaving Minnesota didn't seem like the answer.

Almost immediately I started to realize that moving out of state wouldn't have been as ridiculous as I first thought. I started to envision a scenario that would have made a lot of sense for me personally. This all happened within two weeks of her leaving, but it was only after she left that I was informed she was ready to kick me to the curb months prior. I had outlived my usefulness, but she decided it was easier to kick me to the curb after she left.

I thought she was the one person who kind of understood me. She couldn't put an end to the slow, downward spiral my life was in, but by moving out of state she unwittingly gave me the incentive I needed to finally jump off the runaway train my life had become. The hiring of Mutton Chops, my new manager, should have been the last straw. My personality clash with Mutton Chops should be affirming my decision to leave Minnesota behind. I should be moving to Utah in September.

Instead I'm left to pick up the pieces of my life, before it's too late. I'm not sure I have the strength.

Somehow I have to find the inner strength to carry on, faced with a life that is devoid of meaning and purpose. I don't know how that is going to happen. This may very well end up being the summer of George.

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