Customer Service

Tomorrow is only 8 hours long instead of 9. That’s nice. I do small things to keep my sanity. I make it through only because I know it’s temporary. But really, it’s exhausting. But really, I came home yesterday and he had flowers for me, and wine, and chocolate, and the cloth band-aids I asked for. I know people work days like this all the time, and even longer. What do they get to come home to? What keeps them going? In this way, I am fortunate. 

Procrastinating. I can feel anxiety stabs wracking my body. I don’t want tomorrow to happen. I don’t want to work for that many hours and ugh I really don’t know how people do it. I just want another day to stay here with my S.O. Things have been interesting and I don’t really know what else. Not bad. But it’s going to be lonely and long and it hurts my soul. Two days like that, possibly more. I really hope not. 

I pace around the tiny area of my cash register. Feeling like a tiger in a too-small cage with electric shock walls… except significantly less awesome than that. But really it makes me feel claustrophobic and trapped. How are you all just standing still at your stations? waiting for the next customer? Aren’t you exploding inside with unspent desire and caged creativity? Can’t you feel a tiny bit of your soul being sold at this low price? I pace, two or three feet in each direction. Snap my fingers and try to dig my nails underneath each other to make them hurt.  (I cut them short short short to stop myself). Hoping no one will send a customer to me because I don’t want to have to smile again. I don’t want to have the exact same conversation I have had with a hundred other people already today. “I hate doing this kind of job.” I tell them. “You won’t have to forever. It’s not your real life.” My brother tells me. “I know you do. I wish you didn’t have to. You won’t have to for long.” My S.O tells me. I know it is true, and they are right. You support me most of the time, really. It’s the least I can do to do whatever I have to during the other times. It is temporary and transient but I cannot help feeling worn by it nonetheless. I honestly don’t understand how people can spend their whole lives in such a fashion without killing themselves. 

I feel depressed. Partially because of how tired I am, partially because of my gross hormones, partially because I probably have some type of low grade depression. I feel a thick wall of tears trying to tear their way through my composure. It’s probably also because I have to work tomorrow and for the next 5 days. Though it’s only 4 hours each day it still wears on me. The smiling and the standing and the speaking and the serving. don’t look forward to next week. I think about how many articles I would have to write to make the same amount of money and it sounds sort of appealing. All the little responsibilities I have to deal with are weighing on me more than they probably should. Renew my ID. I’m probably going to have to pay to get a new registration for my car because I lost mine like a fucking irresponsible child unworthy of having a car. I only have like 19 days to have it in my hand and I don’t know how long it will take but I hate thinking about it so I don’t. Please just take care of all my problems for me and don’t make me work a service job and in return I’ll be anything you want me to be. I’m super antsy and ugh why are so many people following me I really just whine all the time. 

Save me

And in this week when i am so weak i want it all. Him to take me into His strong arms. Her to smile that perfect wicked smile on me. Save me, from myself and this life and the thoughts that shouldn’t be. Lowercase i just want to be Yours, with no other responsibilities besides fulfilling Your every need and whim. And i think that is where happiness lies for me, sometimes. In these hot, painful, too short nights. Make me cry. Please, You said you wanted to and i, want to be under You as You thrust through my tears, and fears, and silly shy nervous pride.

For my birthday my dad bought me tickets to murder by death. He believed he was buying me tickets to a play by that name. They were actually concert tickets, and I happen to absolutely love that band. I didn’t even realize they were coming here. It ended up working out hilariously magically well. I’m listening to their new album right now (Bitter Drink, Bitter Moon) and it’s excellent and I suddenly wonder if I can insert a youtube video into this biz. Doesn’t really look like it. oh wait, I just figured it out.

this is my favorite song on their new album so far. I love a lot of the other ones too so it’s a tough call. I need to be working on articles but I so don’t want to. I feel physically bad now, and I just want to drink and hang out and enjoy my weekend before I go back to work on Monday but nooo I have two jobs right now and I have to do one of them in my spare time. 6 articles due by 1am Sunday night (technically Monday morning) Soooo yeah. I should get to work. ugh. blugh.

Birthday Shmirthday

Tomorrow is my birthday (actually like 3 hours from now) My birthday makes me vaguely uncomfortable. I don’t really like the attention. I have to work really early in the morning the next day so it’s not too funtacular. I would prefer to stay home all day and get drunk with my girlfriend but some friends want to take me out to lunch and my parents want to take me out to dinner, so it’s actually going to be a busy day. I’m going to feel awkward and hold still and silently pray to atheismo that no one makes the wait staff sing to me… because that might make me crawl under the table and die forever. RIP shy girl: too shy to live.

Soooo anyways, I just spent like an hour carving at drywall with a kitchen knife. There is a huge hole in the wall that I sorta maybe made while wrestling with my SO and I am fixing it with cardboard and hot glue and Spackle. I feel like I inhaled some drywall dust which doesn’t feel super awesome, but oooh well.