I’m sitting here halfway watching a muted 30 Rock and staring at the computer screen. Sam has eaten, had her bath and peed on me tonight. So all is well. Hubs has baby duty so I don’t feel an immediate need to go to bed, even though that would probably be the most constructive thing to do right now.
I’m feeling a bit down. And as is par for the course with me, also feeling the usual accompanying guilt for feeling this way when some people have so-called “real” problems. As a fellow-blogger once Tweeted to me, I feel like I have to qualify my pissiness. But that’s another post.
Without going into the details, career-wise I feel like I’m over a barrel with no options. What the hell was I thinking anyway, getting a BBA? I don’t give a rat’s booty about business, marketing or anything to do with any of that. I never did. But I thought it was the smart choice at the time, monetarily speaking. I hadn’t even figured out who I was yet (still haven’t really), so what made me think I could choose my life’s career at that age? I do wish I had that brash confidence back. I would put it to better use now.
To a great extent, you are the product of the choices you make. This popped into my head on the way to work this morning. Quite fitting.
We share a brain.
That is all.
I think your frustration about your career is really qualified enough. I don’t get where people tell you you have to qualify your anger. Frustration about situations are valid enough to be angry. Sheesh!
I need your tweet username. I will add you.