I hate it when my birthday shows up in the middle of a major depressive cycle.I don't really want to go anywhere, or do anything.
Nothing sounds "fun" ... and I certainly don't want to insist than my family have to hang out with me.
Heck, and given our financial situation ... I would sure rather have The Wife pay the AT&T bill so the phone and internet stay on than having them taking me out to dinner.
Which I probably will only vaguely enjoy.
This morning I "treated" myself to a McDonald's Big Breakfast ... which is a pretty pitiful self-indulgence, but in my budget quite the splurge.
I talked with a "career counselor" this morning who was encouraging me to double or triple my asking hourly/annual rate. I noted that I was "aware" that I should be "worth" the sort of numbers that he was suggesting, but I frequently had to fight (or simply not take assignments) because they would only give me a quarter of my usual rate (an 8th of what he was suggesting). Where are these jobs?
Needless to say, this all just reinforces my feeling of having ZERO value in this world.
Which, of course, makes the whole concept of stacking up birthdays seem pretty damn pointless.
Feeling damned, doomed, desperate ... and abysmally depressed.
The concept of a "happy" birthday at this point is about as plausible as Little Green Men riding unicorns out of a spaceship to deliver a billion dollar lottery check.
Sucks. To. Be. Me.
