Mortal Woes

I hate my “job”.
I put “job” in quotes because it’s really more a place I go a couple times a week, sit at a desk all day wasting time by surfing the internet. They don’t need me. Really. I think it’s some bureaucratic thing that says they need to have someone here in case the phone rings to say “I’m sorry, I can’t help you, but if you call back tomorrow there will be someone here who can.” It’s pretty pointless.
And I get that it’s super easy money and tons of people would kill for a requires-very-little-work-and-you-get-paid job, but I’m starting to feel like not having to wake up early in the morning to get here is worth more money than what I’m making.
Days like today when I’m running all over doing stupid things like paying the pizza guy and signing people in and printing addresses on envelopes are rare, but still, that I came in and felt put out because there was actually work for me to do… well that says something right?
Anyways, I’m coming to the conclusion that I’m not going to live forever (I know, I’m slow to the realization). I’ve basically just realized that I’m not immortal. You laugh but seriously, think about it. How much are you actually aware that your days are numbered? We’re like “yeah of course I’m not immortal, that’s stupid” but then you actually get it…. well that’s something different.
And I’m realizing that this is just a serious waste of my time for what basically works out to just enough money to put a roof over my head. If I only have X amount of days, why am I spending so many of them here doing stuff that ultimately isn’t important and won’t change the world in any way?
So… Who is going to give me permission to quit in the new year and use the time productively?

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