Not so much the people, because I like my co workers fairly enough. They’re all pretty nice and easy to talk to.
It’s just the work. And the customers.
Today, I was confined to a small space in the store so fondly referred to as the “21Mens” section. I spent a nice 5 hours or so walking in circles in the poorly ventilated room tracing patters on the grey wallpapers and counting how many tiles it would take for me to get from one end of the room to the other.
And I serviced a few customers. It’s not like I’m a terrible employee. I just literally realized that I basically walk around in circles for 9.75 an hour. And I don’t know if I’d rather have something more engaging or be thankful that I actually have a job.
Thank God one of the tourists left their little guidebook to give me something to read. It made me excited for a taste of Hawaii at the Royal Hawaiian sushi bar.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
I was an hour late for work, pregnant, and my car got stolen. On top of that, one of my friend’s was trying to commit suicide, and the roads I was trying to take to get to work kept changing dramatically on me.
After my car was stolen, I somehow was able to realize that I was realizing all my fears. I then proceeded to close my eyes and count backwards to wake myself up. It worked.
I could have kissed you under cherry blossoms, pale petals drifting down like the trees wanted to pretend they could be snowclouds.
I could have kissed you in the rain, drenched to our bones and not even caring that the skies opened up above us and tried to wash us out.
I could have kissed you in a clearing in the most secluded woods, with just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and a few voyeuristic finches peeping at us.
Instead, I kissed you in the parking lot of a Waffle House, just shy of 2 a.m. in the middle of a hectic week, with our waitress grinning at us from the other side of the window, because, honestly, how could I not?
I currently have two options as to what I want to do with myself within the next three years.
Option A: Move to California, get uncomfortable. Transfer to Cal Arts, Otis, or any college close to my desired career. Learn how to swim without water wings and make it or break it out there on my own. Try for an internship, land a job.
Option B: Brush up on my Japanese and study French profusely. Become proficient in both languages. Teach English in Japan during the summer, absorb the culture, maybe land an animation job there doing cheap anime and eventually weasling my way into bigger projects. Maybe work with Studio Ghibli if Miyazaki doesn’t shut it down.
And I also have side goals to complete within the next year:
Goal 1: Take a trip to Maui or Seattle, if I’m really lucky.
Goal 2: Encourage Kris to save up enough so that we can go together.