Morning Coffee

        Another boring day at work.  Another day of endless solitaire.  Another cup of hot chocolate from Turkey Hill.  Another angry stomach that is growling due to yet another breakfast that was never eaten.  Another half hour gone by with still no customer to wait on.  And all for what; a paycheck that is barely worth my time?

        Back to school it is, then.  I’m stuck with the one and only option left of conforming.  Conforming to what society says is the only way to be successful nowadays.  Because, apparently, having a degree automatically means something.  Just because you have a degree in a particular field, doesn’t mean you learned anything.  There are people out there who do just the bare minimum to pass a class with a 70 and learn diddly squat just to say they have a degree.  On the flip side, there are people who would be ten times better in that same field with absolutely no schooling whatsoever.  My opinion?  It’s decidedly inconvenient and unfair that those who might happen to be more qualified wouldn’t even have a chance at having their resume being considered once the employer sees there is no sign of a degree anywhere on the page.  Whereas, a person with a degree becomes hired on little or no experience. 

        So, you may or may not be wondering my field of choice.  I’ve decided on Radiography (X-ray Technician).  I’m not going to go into an entire epic story of how I know this is the field for me and how I know it will be something that I will love doing for the rest of my life.  Because, quite frankly, the kind of person that I am doesn’t allow me to be happy with any one thing for an extended period of time.  I get bored with everything eventually, and yes, it’s very annoying.  I really do wish somedays that I could be like a lot of  people and just “know” what I want to do for the rest of my life.  I’ve been out of school for two years now, and I’m still not happy.  I’m not saying that going back to school is going to make me happy.  In fact, it’ll probably make me even less happy due to my complete inability to enjoy any activity of that which has even a minute resemblance to the education system.  But, nonetheless, this sacrifice I am willing to make so that, one day, I will be able to properly care for and financially support my family.

        So, once again: Penn College, here I come.  Scared out of my mind, but here I come.

        I’m just going to put it bluntly.  There’s no beating around the bush with this.  Last night was just…disgusting.  

        It started out all fine and dandy.  I fell asleep around 11pm.  Around 1:45, though, I woke up and just felt incredibly sick to my stomach.  I’m not a “thrower-upper,” at least, I don’t do it often.  So, I tried to find every way possible not to throw up.  It eventually got to a point when I WANTED to, just for the mere fact that I could possibly feel better and go back to sleep, which is required to be lucid at work the next morning.  My job is boring enough; I didn’t need to be practically falling asleep on my desk, which is tempting even with a full night’s sleep.  

        My stomach eventually started to cramp up and feel sore.  It  didn’t really help that I had, had no supper last night.  So, I eventually drew myself a bath, and “tried” to relax.  Well, it must have helped relax something, because I wasn’t in there any longer than five to ten minutes, and my body was hunched over a white plastic bin that I had with me, bringing up whatever it was that my poor stomach had left in it.  That’s when I wish that I had eaten something earlier that evening.  It hurts so much more to bring up, well, nothing.  I felt better, so I went to my bedroom, got some blankets and then headed to the couch so I would be able to sleep upright.  I probably dozed off for maybe ten to twenty minutes, and then every person in my position’s worst fear happened: I wasn’t done being sick.  The nausea came back, and my stomach, at least point, was just so sore.  It was almost annoying, because no matter what I did, I could not find a position that was comfortable.  I sat different ways, I walked around, nothing helped.  So, I did what I knew worked last time:  I drew another bath.  

        Sure enough, it worked just as well as it had the first time.  This time, I was bringing up the Pepto-Bismol I had taken, which was the last of the bottle and I was desperately praying that I wouldn’t need more.  

        Finally, after four hours of complete agony, I made the call to my boss at 6am and let him know that I wouldn’t be into work today.  

        What a crappy day off… =(