Sufficiently Over-thought

work in an office. It is boring and grey. When I come home I am tired, but not annoyed, and have some time fore myself to relax and enjoy the night - watch a TV show, play a game - before going to bed and doing it all over again.
I wear clothes that are conservative and make me uncomfortable in my skin. My shoes have made my feet go all swollen.
My boss is a nice woman, when she's not being my boss. Otherwise she is demanding, towards everyone.
I file papers, re-write files, cover the reception desk.
My co-workers, mostly, are friendly people, who see us all as in the same boat.
But I am still not me while I'm there.
I cannot wear the outfits I like, or comfortable shoes. I frequently watch what I say.
I consider myself, strangely, ahead of the game.
I know that this is not going to become my life, the way people seem to let it become theirs. Sure the money is nice to have. The money makes it possible for me to cross off the epitaph "Dead beat" off my list of "Things Homer Would Identify Me As".  It lets me apply for school and maybe I will be able to move out on my own.
I rub my ring - a pewter piece I bought yesterday at a fair in front of the office. In a diamond shape seems to be a celtic knot-type of design, with a flower in the center and four corners. It's on my pinky, because I like to wear my rings on my pinky. The flowers have a yellow stone in their center. Like pollen. It's a small reminded, at work, our of the cornor of my eye, this piece of metal and glass, of who I am. I bought it because I liked it. It resonated with me.
Now I buy my clothes because they are right for an office.
When I walk home, I listen to music.
Music is my real anchor to who I am. All the songs on my iPod, shuffled continuously, reach out to a different part of my brain, my soul, what have you, that reminds me of who I am, what I've done, who my friends are, and where I want to go.
I am a geek, a child, an artist, and all these other conflicting parts that make up one person who seems to compliment only herself.
That's the way it feels sometimes.
I don't belong in an office. But that's where I am right now.
It's those constant reminders of who I really am... reading a book, singing a song, writing a story, being a hypochondriac... that remind me that life and where I am if only temporary. Where I'll be in 2 years will be temporary.
And, besides, I don't come home saying "I hate work so much"... that counts for something.