I’m Not Who You Think I Am
Like I said, I’m not who you think I am. What I’m about to say may shock the world: I am girl-WITH-a-job.
I know, it’s horrible. Just the sound of it makes me want to get hit by a bus. But it’s actually not that bad. It’s more like I’m girlwithaninternship3daysaweek. But still, I’m a part of the proletariat and there is nothing that can be done.
Yesterday was my first day as an intern and it was probably the least exciting thing that has happened to me in years. I don’t understand ‘jobs’. Am I supposed to ask for work to do or just wait for someone to give it to me? I didn’t achieve one solid piece of work yesterday. I just sat at my desk fucking around on the computer. That’s what jobs are, right?
I feel like a criminal for taking this company’s money. They are paying me $15/hour to sit at a desk and update my personal blog and social media accounts.
Well, I actually did accomplish one thing yesterday. In an attempt to pass the time, I was emailing back and forth with my therapist (mother). I spent a ton of time on Gmail yesterday because when someone walked by and saw I was on Gmail, they definitely thought it was work-related. When I felt my mother and I running out of things to discuss, I let my inner poet fly:
Tick tock, tick tock
3:36 reads the clock
Seems like the longest day of my life
I just want to become a wife
Working in this dead silent room
Where art thou, my future groom?
Dear Groom, come save me from this hell
Feels like school, waiting for the bell
I’ve been told I can leave when the clock strikes 6
Everyone in this room, but me, has dicks.
I ate lunch at half past one
Feeling suicidal, you got a gun?
Too bad Obama took them all
Individual rights! Government = small
I hope you’ve enjoy this poem of mine
Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine.
Now, some would say that Maya Angelou was the greatest poet of our time. It’s no coincidence that the morning after I discovered my true poetic genius, Maya Angelou passed away. I’m pretty sure her soul is inside me now.