Every now and then you just want to turn around and say, "fuck off you fucking fucks! Work out *your* problems before you badmouth me about my work!" Stupid work. At least it helped prove my theory that I start hating my work when I start doing stuff I'm not trained in. I wonder what they would do if I just had an emotional break-down in the lab. If things just got to much and I snapped, curling up into a ball of frustration and bawling my eyes out, refusing to make any sense to anyone aside from cursing them to suffer from the fleas of a million camels infesting their armpits or what have you. I bet they would send me home for the day.
But *still* won't let me have my holiday time.
Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck them and the fucking horses they rode in on. But then I remember that I have not the enthusiasm required to get real work, and quite frankly the scholarship pays better than a government fork-out while I search for my new vocation. Stupid money. The work would be a much better place if we went to a system of, "well I don't need this - you can have it instead" or, "I cooked this thing because I like cooking - you can have it for lunch". Gah.
Maybe I should just become a hippy in a commune or something.