Is there something as too much excitement?


I got what I wanted, I guess. Right now, I’ve got “lights, camera, action!”

On Thursday, I did something I’m not very proud of: I bunked work. Ai tog. I fucking finally made it past my probation period (18 January 2008) and I do something stupid like that.

So, of course, I got a warning. It’s only a First Written Warning Letter, but it’s there nonetheless. Stalin looked downright uncomfortable, probably expecting me to put up a fight over receiving the warning. I didn’t. Shame, poor oke. I felt worse than he did. I don’t know why I thought he was a meanie. Anyway.

It’s the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

This is from Crash. I guess what happened here, was the feeling of not being communicated to. So I bunked, and someone spoke to me. Finally. My logic is fucked up sometimes, so help me out.

Do I feel bad for bunking on Thursday? Yes, of course I do. It was Warren’s last day yesterday, so I will never see him again. Had I at least showed up for work on Thursday, I would have seen 8 hours more of him.

Oh well, we’ll always have facebook.


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