Tired, promised, & ‘lovin’ it’.

My title has nothing to do with my post. I just had to make one up, and that’s the first shuffling thought that came up.

So,¬†hi. Everyone doing well? No one angsty or emotional this November night? ūüôā

I started my first “real”¬†job yesterday. I’d started training last weekend, but yesterday was my first long, albeit five¬†hour, shift, and today was my second. Because of school and the restaurant’s closing time, I have only been able to work on the weekends thus far, but my school has a few week-long breaks coming up, and I’ve volunteered every inch of my free time to making hours. Next weekend I start, Saturday, at 5AM. 5!¬†I’m not complaining, yet, because I will do everything in my power to get as many hours as I can on my paycheck. And that’s not me being selfish or money hungry — that is me paying off the gargantuant debt I have to my mother. She will have to pay my first two car payments, monthly insurance, on top of all the other bill’s she’s had to keep up with all my life. I’ve been able to give her a little¬†money in the past, but this will be the first bigger sum I’ve been able to deliver ever.

And I really do like my job. :] All the people there are very welcoming; all but three of my co-workers (at least the ones I’ve met) are female, the three males being the two older black cooks, and one very short white boy whom I’ve only seen once in my 4-days being there. His name’s Robert. One of the cooks is Paul: total flirt and a cheese-ball, but¬†relatively harmless.¬†I am yet to learn the other cook’s name, since he doesn’t talk much.

The first thing I learned in this place, is that respect and a sense of humor can go a long¬†way. Naturally, I have an aversion to getting into any sort of trouble, so I’m cautious with authority, always using the “yes sir,” “yes ma’am right away” mentality to get me out of anything. This has proved useful — for obvious reasons — and my managers seem to think I’ve done an okay job. I fear that one of my co-workers, a much older lady (32+, maybe) named Angela, has a problem with me. A “friend” of mine who works in dishes says that she just has this thing¬†about respect; Maryanne (the friend) said I’d have to do a lot and deserve that respect before Angela would even try and treat me like an equal. For now, she treats me like a burden. & who I am to go against her “respect” idea: respect is to be earned. I just wish she would be a little warmer to me in the process.

My managers are kick ass, point-blank. The warm-hearted Miss (Mrs.?) Suzi has been careful to explain and remind me of all the things I need to keep up with around the register, the dining room, and the stock supply. She’s gradually introducing me to other, small (though important to the process) things around the kitchen. i.e. cooking hash browns or fries, stocking ice, stocking said potato products, making shakes (customers who want shakes at 8 in the morning…who knew), etc. Angela¬†actually helped me learn how to make chili dogs (once again….this is EARLY in the morning, people!), though she did it quickly, rushing me along when I didn’t pick it up in the first few seconds. I honestly hadn’t been sure if she wanted me to learn, but I tried to listen as sufficiently as possible, and get the job done.

It’s funny how long you can stand on your feet, w/o bending your knees except maybe once or twice an hour, before you feel the effects of being tired. Call me lazy the other five days of the week, but while I’m working I do not sit down unless I’m on my 30-min lunch break. And it really doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would; so much has to be done, and if there aren’t a lot of people on staff that day (like last Sunday), you¬†have¬†a lot to do. And that’s just the normal stuff — God forbid a customer get the wrong order, or have something fixed “for here” when it was “to go” [it is one REALLY EASY button to miss on the cash register. Woops], because then everybody’s thrown into a frenzy because it puts a wrench in the machine.

Miss Suzi had me on front cash register this morning, working with the walk-in public, taking orders, fixing drinks, making coffee, and making sure the dining room was well stocked and wiped down. That really does seem to be the easiest job in the place — except Robert’s [he just has dining room], but I think that may be his assignment because he’s so new (I’m not that lucky) — I kinda like it.

Who knew I,¬†damed “Lazy Princess” of my household, second only to my stepsister, would enjoy working. When everything’s finished, stocked, ordered, delivered, cleaned, updated, and swept…I smile. It is a straightforward process with only the occasional mishap, and a fun-loving crew. I hate tucking in my shirt, but it’s not like it’s a big deal. Angela still watches me analytically, but¬†her minor hostility proves easy to ignore when I just do my work.

And I will go on record, and I don’t know if this will change, that Kayla and Laura (the newest girl) are my favorite two people to work with on front cash. They are polite (enough), around my age, and I can still crack jokes with them without feeling intimidated. Laura actually seems to be intimidated by me, which is hilarious. Today she said “Wow, so you must be really good at this thing” when I was working alone (well…w/her on drinks) at the register, and I laughed and said “Nope, this is my second day” and she just looked at me like “wtf!” x)¬† She’s a little nervous, just like I am, so I feel a little kinship to her. As Alex Meraz says: “I hope I never get old enough to stop seeing myself in other people.”

I had a sidenote about my schoolwork suffering, but it’s not because of work, and I don’t feel like ruining my good mood.

Even though I took a nap today (a¬†3hr one when I got off work), I’m still tired, and despite me having an assload of homework to do, I will probably just play a little piano and hit the bed.

To you, goodnight.
To the world, goodnight.


Call me Miss Productive, baby.

Wow. Okay, so it’s been a while. A few months since I’ve really been active around here: again, sorry about that. I don’t really have any of my normal excuses. I’m trying out this whole “honest” thing for a while (which I’ve ironically cheated on a few times, but who’s perfect?), so that would just be redundant. I do have a job now :] Fast food. Gotta love it. And shovel it.

The things I love and hate most about my life right now: boys, writing, and piano. In that order.

Why boys, you say? Girls know. So you must be a guy yourself, to ask such an obvious question.

See, you boys like to be the bane of our existance. You do. As much as you tell yourself¬† ‘Hey, I’m a sensitive, nice guy, and I’d be a total catch if someone gave me the time of day.’ In reality, you’re probably hungry for social acceptance on the inside, craving for your next piece of ass (let’s be crude, & truthful) or for a chance to “relax from the oppressive women in your life.” Blah blah. Don’t we all want that, in the long run.

I will not bitch more about boys on this blog. For so long — TOO long — this whole f’ckin site was dedicated to boys. A boy. Whatever. And now that I’ve fought my way up and over that hurdle, I don’t want to start down another diseased path of longing and loathing, longing and loathing, irritated and obsessed. No thanks, I’ll take a buiscuit and a Tom Cruise clad in a white-button down, high socks, with dark glasses and a smile. Good god.

I have such a jumble of slight crushes and devilish temptations whirring about in my head that I can’t think straight. I want to become this badass poet and go run with the wolves, ‘n shit, but I also don’t want to do my work in my Creative Writing class. I want a glorious husband, but the boys I interact with are so mundane that my mind gets bored with them after a few weeks. None of them seem to interested in the old bitch-bat I’ve become either. So at least we’re on equal terms of distaste.

My life is speeding toward its “brand new beginning” and shit –SEN10R year, graduation, lifelong misery, 9-5, 8-CLOSING; dropped scholarships. A’s. My mother’s house for another two years.
So how’s your lifetime going? Going good?

And I can’t complain, because I’ve got a job, a car, (soon a paycheck to pay for said car, if I can succeed at said job), and this boyfriend-ish thing up in PA state. Any other girl might think herself lucky.


ūüôā I want to stay in highschool, never leave¬†my home, and having already graduated college all at once. But that’s just paradoxial. Is that the word?