The past two weeks have been really nuts for me. Every morning I get up and half way dressed as my pager goes off and buzzes clear off the table.

Fuck, I think, what now. It's some emergency, always. Someone didn't do this, forgot this, you didn't do that, why isn't that done, where is this, do you know how to do this?

It drives me nuts. As sometimes when I head out for the day, I get the same thing. I'm always on call, always at work, I live and eat and work at my work.

Damn it.

I'm sending out two resumes come Port day, which I cannot wait, as they are two promising positions in Chicago.

One, however is part time, yet for a prestigious company.

The other is for another prestigious company, think newspaper, but in in the marketing section - yet still with design. (I know it's werid)

So anyway.

Today was another crazy morning as the GS guy forgot to order more signs from my, causing the Hotel Director to hollar at him for putting post it notes on the standing signs, which in the trickle down theory, meant I was involved somehow.

So I printed out the signs, and then took an hour long journey of finding 7 signs "hidden" on the ship. I walked from stern to stem and back again, deck 1, 2, 3, 4, 6 ... back and forth on a mission. Guest looking at me like I'm fucking nuts.

My morning exercise.

I get back and a french server calls, then a french concerige girl calls and then my South African Cruise Director calls. I am running again and think that perhaps my paranoia that my weight loss has stopped and that I've gained quickly is discarded out of my mind.

On the way back to my office, I realize for a moment that all this running is for the guests. That my crazy mornings, being yelled at, treated like shit, hurried all the time, is for them.

For their enjoyment and yet they do not realize it. They don't know I work more than 10 hours a day, normally 12 hour days, they don't know I get yelled at for small mistakes in their newsletters or the hours I spend designing signs, posters, etc. for them.

To them, it's an instant to think and look on. That sign that took me 2 days to create, takes them 2 seconds to glance upon.

Art, I guess that is what I do, but not really, not something that someone stops to think on and wonder why I did this where and when and why.

That's just what I thought walking to my office this morning.

I always have these mini thoughts all day and wish I could write them down somehow. Just to remember them, because I'm to tired to write at night, and my computer at work is to free to everyone, that might take a gander at my thoughts.

So I'll keep it quietly inside and hope to remember once I come here to this shit hole internet cafe.

Anyway, I have a month and 28 days now, can you believe it? A month ... and those days ... granted mom says that is 2 months, but not to me. Just let me say "a" month.

Oh well, let's hope these jobs I am applying for goes through, just so I can have a normal life again. Yeah I'll bitch and moan about my new job, but I think that's a given, everyone bitches about their job.

Regardless, I can't wait for my parents to cruise and for the day I leave here. I try not to think on it often because I get excited, but then realize I have a month and ... some odd days here serving my sentence.

I'll try to write again soon, anymore I've been slacking - I mean not entirely, but before I'd have stuff done 2 days in advance, now I hum-drum on it and just poo poo it till the last minute. Not to mention leaving work pretty early nowadays.

�

pet ramps