On excercises in 'normal'

Someway it feels the General hopes my disdain of the Real world will waver with time, but I ask him to recognize how complicated it is for me to immerse myself in the goings-about of Normal people. It doesn’t get any easier, it actually only gets harder – without enthusiasm, certain commitments fall porous. I look back and marvel at all the stuff I’ve done. That was some bizarre logic right there. Today I took a job as plain an uncomplicated as can be – albeit in customer service, so there’s people – and every passing moment I am reminded how rich, famous and comfortable my life would be if I sucked just the right * and licked all the right *, selling my stuff for contracts untold. Instead, I rather pose as the lowliest of low employees, sweeping floors, setting shelves, being nice to strangers. I was so thrilled today, my first day, to be able to shelf notebooks neatly, I forgot the time and had to be told to go home. Truth is, my wish list is ridiculously short. Like, a couple of months of this role short – I’ll need new shoes at some point, nowadays shoes simply aren’t made for walking – my fucking top shelf hiking sneakers are all but sole-less by now, after one freaking season; I need the new camera bag, the damn thing is still costly as F, at least the one I have my intuitive eye set on …. Then I want a copy of my beloved smutty I Roved Out; some random shit from art shops and about a hundred bucks’ worth of … well… more shit from an art shop. Brush, medium, pigments, paper, the usual. You know me. Our deal is, I get to keep 10% of my measly paycheck every month for random checks off the list. And some little bit saved for the summer vacation. That’s still only a couple of months’ worth of pretending to be Normal. And it doesn’t matter what the body does, the brain will always be grateful for the change of scenery and already the little gears that have all but stopped after November shenanigans, after just a day, a simple day, begin to creak.