The Swing Room

First of all, the "swing room" is not a room where couples go to practice their intimate desires. That out of the way, I'm sitting here listening to Nina Simone, trying to forget the shitty life I'm leading right now. At this very moment there are a couple of coworkers trying to shake out a candy from the vending machine. To be fair, these machines take more money than they give snacks. I'm trying to not focus, but it's so loud I can't concentrate on anything else.

So, getting back to my life. Well, there's really nothing to say because there's nothing to say. Only thing I have going for me is the fact that I can write a posting from my phone. I made the mistake of watching a tv series that reminded me that my life would never be extraordinary. That from now on, I'd have to live the remainder of my life trying to survive, than amounting to something special. I guess I was never going to be anything special. I have to remind myself that in previous lives, not all of us were kings and queens. Some of us were peasants. Now, my only asperation is to be a good peasant. Sorry. Can't lie. I wish I didn't still hope for bigger and better things and just focus on survival. An extraordinary life is hard to give up.

Back to the salt mine.