Woke up at 7.00 a.m. Feel like I am about to die. Drag myself out of my slumbers while my fogged brain struggles with articulating my curses about my cuntry and my wretched existence.
Finish slop at around 7.30 a.m.
Take a crap. I won't be taking another for the next 9 hours or so because the shithole in my shithole of a gulag has no crap paper and I won't deign to bring any to that Hell.
Leave my house and on the way to my gulag, I check the SBF for news. I may decide to contribute to the discussion.
Reach my gulag at a bit over 8.30 a.m. From then until maybe 5.40 p.m, the shit begins. People yelling and rushing one another like overeager souls on the road to reincarnation. Check the SBF during slop. The rest of the day follows the same pattern. I get rubbish from people. My *superior* is bo chup, my PE is a blur and emo old fart who should seriously think of retirement, my admin can't type out a job sheet without making any grammatical mistakes or typos, an old fritter talks to me to educate me so better to demonstrate how experienced her, my gulag mates in the workshop ask me questions etc. I get all kinds of shit and when shit happens people come to me. I am like fucking Jebus.
Check the SBF on the way home and reach my residential area around 6.20. If I have driving lessons, I'll have slop before my attempt not to kill anyone on the road. If not. I'll get a drink or some cold snack and walk back.
Reach home and have slop. Check the SBF. Some hot topic may inspire me to add my wisdom to the discussion.
Listen to the BBC or music on the radio. May walk around the neighbourhood and say hello with the cats down my block.
In short, my existence is meaningless and the sheer monotony of it drives me crazy and reminds me of the dreary and routine regime of an existence behind bars.
I am degenerating. If I don't suffer a mental collapse, my physical frame will disintegrate and my bones will be dust before long.
I am becoming very slovenly in appearance. My hair has gotten long and I don't even comb it.
I am losing my English. Articulating myself in English is an issue now. My Mandarin, however, has improved as I use it to talk to my Chinese gulag mates nearly every day. My language has become more colourful, thanks to the Sammyboy forum and the influence of the people I toil with.
I give less of a damn these days. Since my education has not succeeded in getting me anywhere, I might as well act like some boor with a primary four certificate.
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