It seems I tend to leave terse, cryptic entries when I'm extremely pissed off and agitated, and promptly fail to either address any comments of concern or explain myself. It's a perk that goes along with being a bit of a reclusive enigma, I suppose. But, eh, I suppose it can all be summed up in six words: I sell shoes for a living. The occasional fits of bitterness and searing failure make a little more sense now, yes?
If there is one semi-promising development out of the relocation thus far (aside from the fact that I like the apartment and it's generally nice to be living anywhere other than Salem), it's that I actually have a slight (if only ever-so) social life. Which primarily revolves around heading to a certain pub/arcade after work and playing video games in between spells of drinking Newcastle and watching hockey. Oh, and plotting to somehow sabotage the parent company along with my co-workers/comrades.
This evening, I have my last driving lesson. Yes, that means I will soon acquire my driver's license. It's like...and end of an era. The book of J - Eternal Passenger/Pedestrian is coming to a close. Which is why I fully intend to spend the rest of the day listening to Iron Maiden and playing Championship Manager 01/02. What can I say? I like to celebrate in style.
I'm out. Later (probably much later, given my history).