I'll state it this way: I have not become a cynic, but cynicism has begun to make sense to me. In my second week of working at the Magazinery I'm generally pleased with my job: most of the people are all right or better. The ones who aren't can't kill me. The work is all right. The office is not too far from home. I don't have any real complaints.

But the people who complain, oh do they ever complain.

They tell me that it'll take a month to get the whole job down and then it's the same thing every month. I can see myself a year from now thinking that this never ends, or that it's the same thing all the time and the only difference is what I bring for lunch that day. Not that I'm prophesizing. Everyone has up and down days, or weeks, or months. A down year is too much for me to think about.