Losing It

27 05 2013

My head hurts and I’ve obviously been watch too much Adventure Time or something. I pressed my finger against my head and I swear I felt my temple caving in as if my finger was a black hole generator.

I saw a mint condition Peter Koppes tape, yes tape, on eBay today. $1 is all they wanted for it. $1! Mint condition! Fuck! He’s not the best singer in the world, I’ll be the first to admit that, but $1! Mint condition!

The ultimate irony is using a uni computer to withdraw from all your courses. Of course, you can only do this if you choose to dropout before the cut off date, as I found out today.

Everyone keeps trying to talk me out of it, and I’ve even joked about it at times, but what is wrong with dealing with customers? Especially if you are doing what you enjoy? My sister gets frustrated, but she works at HomeArt (no, I don’t know how to spell it) and one of my friends works at Oporto, and I have no aspirations of working in anything even remotely similar to either of those.

But to work with something to do with music (which naturally means movies this day and age) would be awesome. I know someone who runs a music market and I help them out from time to time. Even though I don’t know all the titles or even have an interest in some of them (ABBA, for example), just knowing that people are buying them because they enjoy them, or for someone else who enjoys them (what if they’re buying them to destroy? – ed.) I doubt that. (You never know. We live in a wacky world – ed.) Whatever. Anyway, knowing that people are buying them because they have a passion for it is enough for me. As I said, even though I might not know/enjoy it, if someone wants to start talking about an artist, I’ll listen. I’ll even ask some questions. Why? Because passion is infectious.

So is it weird that I want to work in a music shop? I mean come on. It’s a job doing something that I know I will enjoy. And it’d cause me a damn sight less stress than what I’m currently doing. Just sayin’.

If you want proof of this, you should’ve been with me in JB yesterday. The ‘popular’ music isle was a bit of a mess (I’m guessing someone who had little respect came through) and I tidied it up, no questions asked. I did it because not only do I like music, I find sorting things out calming. It’s weird. One of my best memories of work (at Big W) is on NYE the other year and cleaning up the fixtures room. Initially it was annoying, but that’s only because the numbers of fixture that are similar is unbelievable. But once I got into it, man was it fun. And the cherry on top was when the boss came in and was stunned by my progress. That was the best feeling, because I got it done despite there being a fire evacuation (which turned out to be nothing) happen.

I saw a picture on the Facebook account that I totally don’t have today. It was a picture as such, but what else are you supposed to call it? Anyhow, it read “I have sexdaily. I mean, I have dyslexia. Fcuk.” I lolled a bit.

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