Well, I'm certain I'm in the deep shit now.
I just didn't go in today. Yep. I just didn't bother going in. It was a tangle of will for me though. I got up, had my morning coffee, jumped behind my computer, and struggled with the plan to waste another day at the Vocational Center.
It seems as if all of my strength for going back there has finally been sapped. Maybe it's my social anxiety kicking in, maybe it's just laziness. I don't know what the fuck it is. I'm just not motivated to go in. I know what's the next remedial action from these bunch of fuckers will be. When I say 'fuckers' I mean the 'formers', the 'creators' of this entire madness, not just FEGS. These FUCKERS will MAKE the motivation.
How will they do that? Simple. They'll make it sound and feel like I've committed some grave crime not coming in with documentation. They'll have no other power to do anything than what HRA has told them, which is send my case to a higher power. This higher power will not be reachable by any means. This higher power will pass my case on to HRA who will contact me, by letter or in person when I do come in, somehow. This letter, lets say, will have the THREAT, the MOTIVATION. My benefits will be in jeopardy. I've been either cut, or will be cut, which will leave me no choice but to schedule a Fair Hearing to reverse the judgment, and you remember how much fun a fair hearing is. This is the punishment.
Voila! Instant motivation for me to come into the Roach Motel. I wonder just how far down this intestinal tract I'll have to go. Shit, with my luck I'll be extruded out of the anus...having my benefits completely cut for a period of time. Most likely a month. That's as long as my medicines will hold out. Fuck me. It can even become worse...six months.
Why am I placing myself to be subjected to all this shit? Because I JUST CAN'T GO INTO THAT FUCKING PLACE!!! I'd rather the excitement of running around for a fair hearing more than just sitting around and dying! At least I'm going to new places, seeing new people, working on paperwork from home, get a month off from these bitches. At least my dick gets hard from the excitement of it all, damn it don't get hard for anything else. But my point is that it beats that fucking black hole.
Plus, I love bucking the system. I'm hitting them with so many doctor notes and technician forms that it must seem like a blizzard to these mother- fuckers. They'll need snow shoes to work through all the shit shoveled at them. Screw them. I hope they lose sleep going through all of my notes and comparing them to days to see if I have proper documentation. Fuck them.
What do you want from me, brain surgery? I'm a hardheaded fuck. I can get downright adamant at times. It's just my makeup. So what am I going to do for the rest of the day? Work on the handbook and write to you that's what. I'll make my funky observations and cry that my life couldn't be any better. Or cheer that it is.
It's a flip of a coin isn't it? In the streets or out of the streets. Good health or bad health. Right things or wrong things. Fuck or impotent. It's just a flip of a coin. There really isn't anything you can do is there? Life is 70% luck. That's why if we worry and try to protect our meager 30% we'll get nowhere. That's why I'm not shitting on myself over these FUCKERS. They can kiss my ass. Whatever they do to me will be the flip of a coin. I'm thinking of what I can do to them next. What kind of pure DEVILMENT. I'm determined to be a problem.
I think of all the poor souls standing in front of that damned building. I see why they are there now. Since they have to be there their only act of defiance is to stand in front of the doorway. Yeah, that is their way of fighting a huge machine that turns gears packed with dirt, dust and jet black oil. But the gears turn slowly, and within this turning I play.
Fuck these losers. I spent the entire afternoon sending out my resume. I just blanketed the area. Even went for jobs that I was under qualified for. Fuck, I can learn as good as the next man. It is indeed a blessing that I have the Internet in my room. I can get online at anytime and churn these resumes out all day long, all night long, if there were the job opportunities. There just aren't enough of them. Which means that they are swamped with resumes, and if they are swamped, they can easily overlook mine. I'll be a lowly fleck of dust in a sandstorm.
I was talking to a close friend of mine and she brought out something that I never thought of while I've been bitching so much...that there are a lot of things to find joy in, and most of all, my fucking ass is alive. That's one thing that the Roach Motel, FEGS, HRA, Fair Hearing, Unemployment and the FUCKERS can't take away from me, the fucking joy of living. And if they can then all this shit won't mean a wood chip in a hurricane.
And that goes for all the little people that try to take my joy. You're still too little for me to give you much notice. I have real problems. I'm worrying about keeping my ass off the streets.
I am alive. And I can look at the beauty of the world and dream of my red-head in a bikini. And I swear, if I get my hands on her, I'm going to FUCK the shit out of her, I swear to GOD!
That's my word.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/07/through-intestinal-tract.html
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