Just transferred all the posts over to my new blog which has yet to be designed. For now it's just an inverse thing of this site. But with theatre reviews. The ones that were up here. Remember?
I am always amazed by the joys of working here. One would think that working for artists would be different. I suppose it is, different than, oh say working for something evil. And yet, the pettiness and bitterness that flows within me is almost a constant. I have to fight to not become something that I hate. So that's why I must come up with little games to amuse me all day. Then, of course, I realize that that is the very thing that everyone else does to get through their day.
I wouldn't mind at all if there was something more along the lines of work at work, but the majority of my day I am reading the same websites over and over - convienently located at the right side of the page - and hiding them as quickly as possible when someone walks by. Lately though, there's less hiding, and more people noticing my (not so) secret obsessions with things that are marketed towards me, famous author's blogs, and other very random things.
On top of that, I do think that my neck is starting to get a horrible pain. I think it's answering telephones all day.
And through the magic of the paragraph break I am now 20 minutes later after someone came by my desk asking for where the Beaver File is. So I, trying not to titter reply:
"What?"
"The Beaver File."
"I really don't know what you're talking about."
"I meant FileMaker file. I have no idea why I said Beaver."
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