temporary death in a secretary's office

meaningless meaningless meaningless.

how much of our lives do we spend doing meaningless things?
This has ALWAYS grated on my soul - working as a secretary's assistant, cleaning my room, doing busy work, going shopping, walking from class to class to class that the students have no passion or hope for, being nice in order to maintain safe relationships...
I am, however, coming to terms with the mundane in life. I apologize to those hopeful, ambitious souls who believe there can be some meaning and fulfillment in each moment. I'm sorry; I find no way to fill out the countless moments I spend alone in a room with bare walls sorting through headshots and stapling rejection records on them for a file no one will look at... there is no opportunity to affect anyone, to enrich my heart mind or body or anyone else's. meaningless meaningless meaningless.
But I suppose part of this whole shitty maturing thing is realizing that if I didn't waste some of my precious minutes on earth, I couldn't spend any of it living it as fully as I want. When it comes down to it, I need money to fulfill my dreamer's fantasies, and this is my means - so sacrifice is a part of life. I had always hoped I could get through life without it.
Of course, I could always opt out of both the mundane and the fantasy and live my life in between, focusing on the moment and... I don't know, living in a big field of nothing. having no dreams, but letting each moment be enough. Unfortunately, I, like my father, have a restless soul, and that can never be enough. So I put my heart in a cage for a few hours a day so it can explode when I'm ready. oh adulthood.
But let our hearts explode - God, let me not keep my heart in any cage for too long hoping for some unattainable goal; more finances or the unspoken dream; let me cry my dream out for people to think foolish and let me prove them wrong or fall on my face so that I must get up again to prove that life is worth it...