He's got a bucket of crotch flavoured popcorn.

I always have trouble coming up with a title for my posts before they're done. Even then, I'll usually just pull a fitting quote from an awesome movie, in a bid to impress people with my knowledge of film.

I woke up this morning, and was immediately bombarded with five distinct thoughts, one after the other:
1. Why did I let my boss talk me into working consecutive shifts with only six hours between them.
2. I'm going to quit my job.
3. I wish I had money for a proper breakfast, instead of toaster waffles and watered-down Tang.
4. I'm serious. I'm going to quit my job.
5. No, really, I'm going to call my boss, I'm going to call him a dickhead , and I'm going to quit my damn job.

Once that was out of the way, I packed up, and left for work. Needless to say, it was all bluster. I have these thoughts every time the boss gives me a shitty shift, which means I'm thinking the same thing damn near every day of the week. As you've probably surmised by this point, I really hate my job.

For those of you who don't know, I'm a security guard. But not the rent-a-cop kind. The pay is a bit better, and the work is a lot worse. Security guard is really kind of a misnomer. On any givern day, I'll perform the duties of a janitor, concierge, tour guide, data entry clerk, or vehicle inspector (not the detective kind, unfortunately). Sure, there's some real security work sprinkled in there, whether it's locking up after hours, patrolling the yard when it's not busy, or dealing with the guard dog, but really, I'm just a glorified yard bitch. And, since I'm the most recent hire, I get stuck with all the shifts no one else wants.
It's not all shit sandwiches and punches to the gut, though. Some of my coworkers are seriously cool people. We've got all your favourite stereotypes: British "football" fan, Eastern European almost-but-not-quite-communist guy, kindly old lady who could swear the pants off of a one-eyed carpenter. They all make the day go by just a little bit quicker. Unfortunately, we're short-handed, so I do get stuck with a lot of rent-a-cops. Which is unfortunate, because most of them are recent immigrants who can't speak any english. Now, I have nothing against immigrants. Who doesn't want to live in this country? But I do wholeheartedly believe that if you are going to live here, you should be able to speak the language in a passable manner. Enough to do your shopping, and enough to do your job.
Point is, this job wasn't supposed to last long. It was just supposed to pay the bills while I got settled into the city, and found something better. Yet here I am, nine months later, with nothing to show. No forward motion in my life. It's like I've just picked up where I left off the first six months after my graduation. It's not a good feeling.
So, I'm committing to change. I've had a plan formulating in my head for a while, but I figure if I write it down, get it out there, I'm just that much more likely to follow through with it. So here it is. My plan:
1. Find a job in Burnaby selling computers. I know what I'm talking about, I'm good at it, and some places even pay a decent commission on hardware sold. Hell, I don't even care if I get paid less than I do now.
2. Upgrade and update my high school Math 12, which I barely showed up for, and as a direct result, barely passed. Then, maybe add a Calculus course, or advanced Physics.
3. Spend more time teaching myself C++ in my spare time. I need to get started on a basic portfolio if I'm ever going to get a job in the industry.
4. Apply to the Art Institute of Vancouver, for their fall Game Design and Programming course. Not strictly necessary for getting a job in the industry, but it will make it so much easier than just doing it on my own.

There it is. My plan. It isn't much, but it's a start. Beginning in September, I'm going to kick the crap out of life, and make it my bitch. No longer settling for what I've got, I'm going to get out there, and get what I want.

Now, if you'll excuse me, this garbage isn't going to take itself out.