With my acquisition of a full-time, but temporary, job, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to be interesting. My fifteen minute NPR-filled commutes allow me to learn a lot about the current economic climate in Greece and how that reflects upon America's own debt problems and my Kindle allows me to read about the cultural implications of Christmas in America (the thrills never stop!), but the majority of my days are filled with mindless cube-work. That's right, I've taken up a cube.
I'm not exactly sure how millions of people all over the world manage to get up everyday and do this kind of work, but somehow...they're able to push billions of pieces of paper from one end of the room to the other, day after and day, and not throw themselves off a cliff. Douglas Adams wrote about human beings in, "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy," in a way that pinpoints so much of what I'm feeling (my previously-healed but newly inflamed hands are showing) at the moment,
This planet has - or rather had - a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.

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