"PC Load Letter"? What the fuck does that mean?

I'm feeling angry right now. I keep having visions of that scene from Office Space where they take the photocopier out into a field and destroy it with baseball bats. Except instead of the photocopier, it's my entire cubicle, all 3x2 feet of it. With the computer, the lamp (because the NAC Theatre where we are located has "mood" lighting that is not conducive to a work environment), and the phone, there is barely any room for the keyboard and its edges dangle precariously off the desk each time I type. I think my coworkers are chained to their desks. Seriously. They never take any breaks or go anywhere for lunch. I refuse to believe that any desk job is that engrossing that you would want to spend 8 strait hours sitting there, destroying your back and your vision. My shoulders are killing me from this poor excuse of a chair, my wrists ache, and my eyes go blurry after a while.

I feel like my soul, my artist is being crushed and I'm not even being financially compensated for it.

I'm frustrated by my monetary difficulties. I'm a fiercely independent person who has never deprived herself of anything. Now I feel trapped, caged in a cell made out of fake walls and artificial lighting. I can't do everything I want anymore because I don't have the money for it. I have to choose which meal will be worthwhile. If I have a great lunch, then supper will consist of hot dogs, cheap thai noodles in a cardboard container, plain pasta or a combination therein (and vice-versa if I plan on having a nice supper). I don't have the time or the money to go grocery shopping for something substantial and/or healthy. My clothes for work consist of three outfits I got over Christmas that I keep rotating because everything else I have either doesn't fit or was last in style when Chrétien was in power (and of course we must keep things in style - I'm much too proud to let appearances fall). My winter jacket, if you can even call it that, is falling apart on me now that the cold has come in. I'm really hoping it will make it through February. If I happen to make a wee bit of money to help me out throughout one week or another, the government takes it away.

Darcy has been so unbelivably supportive lately that I have started to think that there might be some sort of body snatching going on... I'm very lucky to have him but I feel, for lack of a better example, like my balls have been cut off (to be clear I did not have any balls to begin with, it's just a metaphor, ERIK). I feel like I lose a bit more of my independance every day that goes by where I can't support myself. I feel like on some level, I'm using him and I hate that. It makes me feel like I'm one of those vapid girls who flaunts their "sugar daddies". I'm frustrated because I feel powerless.

I know I am better off than a lot of people out there, but it's not where I want to be.

Some of you might say I should just get job. I've been trying. I have applied for over 30 different positions since December and I have only gotten one interview out of the lot. My resume is great, my qualifications are incredible, and yet no one wants to give me a shot. And what's worse is that any of those jobs would probably be just as mind-numbing... but at least I'd get paid. It's depressing.

I want to scream and break things but polite society does not afford me that luxury.

I want to be at rehearsal right now. I feel at peace once things get going there. Any fatigue or numbness evaporates with every line. I want to be at home writing my script or painting a picture. I want to be dancing. I want to be watching a play or a movie. I want to be anywhere but here.

sigh

Please don't worry about me (Mom, put the phone down. I'm probably not at home anyway :p), I will be fine. Things will get better. They always do. I'm just venting.

I feel better.