The Fly on the Wrong Wall

I never would have thought that I’d be blogging from work. But hey, it aint a blocked site. I’ve done my task and this is my free time.

From my two weeks of being a trainee in this company, I have come to the conclusion that I am, as they say a fly on the wall; you know it’s there but you just don’t give much attention to it. I have no problem being just the fly on the wall, at least I get to observe everyone from where I am. However, it turns out I am in the wrong wall after all. I don’t belong.

After all, those doubts and frustrations I had, long before I started being a trainee in this company were right. This isn’t what I want to do in the long run. The people around me are aiming for excellence and perfection, and here I am literally seated ┬ánearest to a wall just satisfied with mediocre results. And from an outsider’s point of view, my case is pretty much an alarming situation. No? HECK, I EVEN GOT THIS TIME TO BLOG! WAZZAP!

So what am I doing this for, really? I’ve read somewhere from ThoughtCatalog that midlife crisis is quite the common trend– that is to get a job, find his own place, be successful in the shortest possible time, satisfy parents with a success they can be proud of, and all of those other stuff. Right on the bullseye, midlife crisis it is. But really, I don’t have an idea what I would do if I quit what I have now, so again I’ll have to put up with it while I can.

Or maybe it’s the thought of getting paid for whatever non-existent “special skill” that I have that’s forcing me to wake up early in the morning just to be punctual. Boy, I have never been late (so far), and that’s something the old me would never have achieved in the million years if he were just out there. And speaking of being just out there, I sure do miss the joys of being funemployed– just lazy days and oversleeping and lots of oversleeping.

Oh geez, I have gotten myself into this haywire and there are legal papers to prove that (eyerolls), so I’ll just have to make it happen.


I’m just the curbside prophet and I can’t put my hands in my pocket because that is a violation. (Yes, that’s a violation in this office)


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