Dean tells me that he and I are on L’Owen’s list of 6 strongest writers in the class. Kick arse! I honestly never would have expected that, but it’s cool.
So I finally found this book that I’d been looking for for years: The Experiment, by John Darnton. My dad got it on tape for us to listen to on a trip to South Florida my 9th grade year, but, not being a very great listener, I decided to stop listening (despite being way into it) and check it out later instead.
Well, not knowing the author’s name, it took me a lot longer than expected to find it, and when I finally did, then it was a matter of the book being there when I was and me remembering to look for it. I finally did, and I really enjoyed it.
Work is driving me insane. I think I mean that literally. I have this habit of, when one aspect of something is annoying me, finding all these other things about it that always irritate me. That’s what’s happening at work—they won’t give me a second day off, and so every little thing is driving me up the wall. Like the fact that we have taco night three times a week, and every single person coming through my line pisses me off just for being there. I want to scream obscenities at them all, and am quietly doing it, too, under my breath. A couple of times I’ve come very close to actually swearing at a customer. I feel like having to stand there for another two hours really takes something from me, and must keep repressing the urge to get up and just walk out.
Scot (one of the bosses) came through the line tonight, asked for jalapenos, and I gave him quite a few, and he said, “Are you trying to kill me?” I said, “Yes.”
I won’t smile at people anymore. They piss me off too much.
I really feel like the weight of the hopelessness is driving me down—like, physically, even—I’ll stand there and feel like I’m totally going to pass out because I cannot handle it.
I swear, everything would be fine again if they’d just give me the damned day off!
Maybe things will get better. Maybe the dishwasher will actually like me back. That’d be something, a light through all the hopelessness. A secret tryst that nobody else would really care about, but which would make me feel like I was somehow rebelling against the establishment.
Dishwasher! I need a life! Help!
Duuuude! Just as I was about to post this, my first date ever texted me out of the blue!
And after the conversation we had, I’m thinking, “Hey…I still kinda like this guy,” and he still likes me, too…so…right. I like Patrick, too. And now I don’t know what the hell to do. Obviously, I guess, get to know both of them a bit better, and find out what happens. At any rate, two Saturdays from now I am going on my first second date ever with…my first first ever.
I’ve got to go to bed.