It has been maybe four or five cups of tea today. There is something about the workplace that makes it OK to be there, since I can rest assured the flow of coffee and tea will never cease to pour over me as if I were to stand directly below Niagara. The time card says I have worked thirty eight point ninety seven hours this week. Pesky first day robbed me of that extra hour and a half to make it a full work week, so I am not sure where I stand where I say I have worked my first week of the first job out of college.

Battled through three rounds of interviews, dragged along five weeks of emails, begging them to give me an answer so I could tell a landlord I had a steady cash flow so I could move in to my first apartment, all to be given an internship instead. So, if this is my first “job” out of college, I will let you decide. Either way, waking up, making my breakfast, driving to work, working out after, making my dinner and making sure I am not surprised by staggering bills due to electricity, water and what have you consumption feels pretty real world to me.

Grocery shopping, paying for gas, paying insurance, working out, trying to live off of cash, make sure I don’t use my credit cards too much, make sure I can pay the next bill, budgeting what drink I should get at the bar or if I should save it for a meal. Too tired to hang out, too tired to go to work. Waking up at five in the morning without an alarm, not being able to fall asleep for hours until its past ten at night. I understand why my folks where so damn tired all of the time. I guess my youth is the only thing that keeps me going, instead of just resting and working, working and resting. There is still some drive in me to have fun, some curiosity. Of course money just slaps me in the face saying “Get real dude! You aint got money to burn on fun shit!”

My mind is cluttered with all these obligations, that it suddenly is four days since I talked to someone that isn’t living in my apartment. It is weird when you realize how the only people from your age group that you see are at the gym, and even then, being a 23 year old graduate makes me feel like an old ass in a room where people get to say they live in a dorm, and worry about what classes to take or what schedule to follow. I’m just sweating on the stair climber thinking of what else I can afford to cook that wont end in me eating the same thing I did last night, and hoping I can come up with something more exciting than a sandwich or rice bowl for work the next day.

I get home and get to enjoy the couple hours I have before needing to get rest if I am to sit at my desk for eight hours the next day, coding, and trying to figure out how I fit in the company. Not having Wi-Fi yet in the apartment really makes it feel like I am back in the nineties. Compound that with not playing video games or having lights on to ensure the cheapest possible light bill before I get a couple of paychecks to be able to afford those kind of things, and you quickly realize how the routine where all that matters is being fit to work the next day is scary as fuck.

I am being melodramatic, and it is not as bad as I make it seem. Like I said, it has only been the first week at the job, and two and a half weeks at the apartment. All I know now is, thank God it’s Friday, and I gotta go take a leak again from all of this tea and coffee I am drinking. I hope they don’t think I keep using the bathroom as an excuse to not be at my desk working. I’m also not saying that it also kind of is. Oh well, I will be here next week anyways, so its not like I am leaving for good. ~ad astra ultraque