You'd think that after setting fire to your fathers' corpse and running around telling everybody the same story because there really is nothing else to say, stressing around work, home, kids, moms, funeral directors and bosses, that life would somehow balance shit out for a man and give a brother some R&R.
NO DICE.
My luxury position as the returned prodigal son at work was going down the drain faster than an eel on a vaseline trip (don't ask). I wasted the first six months of my contract and now I'm facing the tough challenge to produce some serious results before the end of this year, or I'll be looking for a new job.
Getting a new job is not an option. I chose to go back to where I am because I want to be there, not for the money or the happy faces or the comfort of having to cycle
40 fucking kilometers every goddamn day. I want to do this because I did it before and I can do better this time around.
So, uneasy times ahead. Good.
