And the Clouds Came Tumbling Down...

My cousin leaves for school tomorrow, which means  I cannot sneak into the living and use his computer anymore when he leaves to hang out with friends. Damn.

This week has been horrible and it is only Wednesday.

 I hate my job. I mean I really hate my job. Working at a bookstore and working at a college library are two different things. I can no longer take 3 hour breaks, talk with interesting co-workers and shelve books while listening to my iPod. At the bookstore I am accosted my patrons (who I call bookies) creeped out by some of my co-workers and needless to say drained from the question "can you recommend a book for me".

Instead of answering with a "hell no I can't recommend a book because there is no telling if what I like is what you'll like", I smile, pull up a list of the New York Times bestseller and tell them to take a chance with one of those titles. It's the NYT right? I think I hate my job the most because it isn't where I imagine myself in October. I was hoping to have a job in my desired field, hanging out with other weird and introspective writers and artist. I did not see myself behind a cash register telling customers that they can save 10% on all items in the store by becoming a member (25 dollar annual fee of course).

At this point I have all but abandoned any hope that I will get that internship. It has been 2 weeks since I emailed her my reader response and all I have received in my inbox is spam and more spam. 

I want to escape this place, but I know I don't have anywhere to go. I can't return home which no longer has my two cats waiting for me. There is nothing for me there and even pretending like there is hasn't worked out for me. But I can't imagine staying here, where I am leading a life that isn't entirely mine. I don't even feel like some big failure, I just feel like my place isn't here and I would rather be broke and happy, than making minimum wage and depressed. Because that's what i feel like, I feel completely and utterly outside of my body and things like happiness and optimism are masks I wear for other people so they don't worry about me. 

I tried to explain this all to my mom on Monday, but she was having none of it. She was growing angry and agitated with me on the phone as if  asking for my wants to be a reality isn't the way the world works. In so many words she was telling me to suck it up, that I have to be patient and that I won't get stuck working at a bookstore my whole life. But I don't even want to get to the point where I have to contemplate this job becoming some sort of career. Where all I do is come 'home' and talk about my day selling books. It's disheartening to say the least, and feel like quiting everyday. 

I didn't answer any of her phone calls yesterday, more out of anger towards myself than to her. Stagnation is a vice that I have never been able to accept or overcome, and this overcast of depression and anxiety has a lot to do with my future. Like I will be some sort of wasted potential scanning books and trying not to tell a customer to piss off.

I have been toying around with the idea of grad school. Yes, I may be using it as cushion right now but I know I am good at academics. Sometimes in my 'new' life as a 9-5 girl I don't have a sense of my potential. I am use to people telling me how much of it I have that even during shit days that knowledge comforted me. It made me somebody, it gave me a sense that I was going somewhere, that I was special. 

Now I don't feel special by anything or anyone. I can see myself seeking that affirmation from people I don't even know. There is a guy at my job who is an elementary school teacher, and even before i knew this i was drawn to him. He helped me out the first day of work, and called me 'kid' which for some reason I liked. He was good at explaining things, sarcastic in that new york kind of way, and did I mention sort of cute. He's in his early 30's, which right there I was like "whoa" but I like him  solely because I felt like he (as a teacher) could see the potential in me. He could see that outside of my flower shoes and crooked smile there was something special about me. Whether it be my depth or potential. There was something.

In the weeks since I first met him he hasn't said anything to me. I mean nothing. He sort of looks at me as if I am a weird new creature who he wants nothing to do with. We work in the same small circular information desk and he ignores me. This would not bother me so much if he wasn't so familiar with everyone else, including the girl I got trained with. He is funny, extroverted and charming. He wears cool glasses and has a deep rich laugh that comes straight from his stomach. 

I feel like he already knows what I'm about. The he can see past my facade and read me like some damn book. When I see him, I get a knot in my stomach that has nothing to do with my attraction to him. I feel like if i look him in the eyes he'll know everything about me and be turned off but who'll find underneath.

 He gives me a look sometimes (while ignoring me of course) that I can't fully read. I think it says that i am young, naive, and complicated. I can sense that he can read my need to feel special, and for that reason alone he deprives me of it. The other day I was walking with my eyes cast down, still aware of everyone walking in front of me. I could see him vaguely walking in my direction and when i tried to divert a collision he walked in my way and then veered off, causing me to run into a shelf. I feel like he's fucking with me, and bringing to light what I already know about myself. 

Without some purpose, without some affirmation I feel lost. I stumble around hoping to crash into something that will make me feel like a person again. Writing makes me feel whole, and without someone or something there to affirm it I am...walking around with an overcast of uncertainty that makes me feel less than human.  

I of course am not completely beaten down. I just realize that something has to change in order for me to have a sense of my own worth again (retail has a way of removing that from you). I could look for another job, I could tough it out until I snag an internship, but grad school is my top priority now. I hate that I have to ask for references again, and only hope that i can get some. Surprisingly I am not to worried about the writing sample. I have written pieces of a story that I am proud of, and that I know has the potential to be something. Along with regional schools, I am looking at some international programs. I am looking for places in London simply because I could develop as a writer outside of this crazy city. The idyllic countryside might stir my best work yet. Plus I have been looking for any reason to get out of the states.

I should have my charger plug on Monday. I can hardly wait. I have not played the Sims in weeks and it is driving me crazy. Plus after writing this post I feel a little better (if not embarrassed for admitting my attraction to this guy whose name is...wait for it...wait for it...MIKE, go figure). 

Until Then

~Beckett.