I am working on this hanging out thing. When I am not breaking hearts (god I feel awful about that) I am embarking on this new thing called...friendships. Who would have thunk it.
There are several things I hate about working at a bookstore. Rude customers, rude children, closing, getting hit on by old men, teenagers trashing the store, and being anywhere near the cash register. I despise handling people's money and trying to sell a $25 dollar membership. Ain't doing it.
But there are some perks. Discounts on everything and there are a crapload of 20 year olds working at the bookstore all feeling the effect of the recession and limited job offers. This has brought my social life to life in a sense. There are some co-workers that I strictly hang out with at work and then there are those that i trust enough to hang out with outside of work (except for Porter. God I really really feel awful about that).
I don't seem to have a problem making friends which now puts a whole new spin on this anxiety thing. I can't even blame it on any external factors because in front of other people I am...okay. When I went home a couple of weeks ago, I traveled to my Alma mater to buy a sweatshirt (that I wear almost every day). I could not leave without stopping by my therapists office. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see him, but I left a note telling him that even though the real world is a lot different than i thought, I am okay. I am managing, i am dealing with the whole lot in stride. And as I continue to try to make something of myself here, I can only describe my current state as 'surviving and doing okay'.
There are a couple of girls at work that i consider more than buds. We are charting on 'friend' territory and I have made an effort to hang out with them outside of the confides of James Joyce and Stephenie Meyer. Since the new year I have hung out with Marisol (the graphic designer), Abagail (the PhD cello player) and Angie (the girl from Kansas). They are the three I have connected with the most based on our dissatisfaction with our careers and our similar interests. Unlike the rest of my co-workers I warmed up to these three pretty quickly (well it took a while with Abagail) and I knew I wanted to try the whole social thing with them.
On New Years Day Marisol and I saw Milk, went to the mall, had Italian food and discussed traveling the world. She is level headed, funny and in love with Emile Hirsch. She reminds me of my friends from childhood. There is nothing pretentious about. She's easy to be around and adventurous.
The Next day, even though i was tired, I had made plans to hang out Abagail. I was suppose to hang out with her on Christmas Eve (along with hanging out with Porter earlier in the day) but I had to cancel on her too because of my cousins birthday. She has depression and a lot going on, so I didn't want to cancel again and give her the wrong impression. I have become obsessed with the french culture again so i suggested a french movie and pizza at her place. She lives in this beautiful house on a street called Battle Hill. She has been inviting me to her place for a while to check out the place. I walked in and it was like a writers retreat. She has two roommates and they share a three story home. Really it's just a foyer(1st floor), followed by the main floor(2nd floor) which has two bedrooms, the kitchen, dinning room, living room and bathroom and then the third floor is really an attic converted into a bedroom. The house had so much character combined with the greatest natural light I have seen in a while. The floors were hardwood, and the decor was simple and chic. Her roommates are MA students while she is the only one working on her PhD. Because of this the house has music stands and music sheets all over the place. It was pretty fantastic.
We bought a lot of junk food for the two hour movie, but spent the better part talking. I think I like her because i relate to her sadness. I mean it is not the only reason I like her, but our sullenness connects us. She talked about her last relationships and the current issue she has with the boy she knows is the one. He is Argentinian but speaks six languages and has the bluest eyes I've ever seen. When she talked about him you can tell he meant the world too her despite his flighty ways.
We had a good time, I felt like an adult. We agreed we'd check out the Guggenheim soon because we are both obsessed with museums.
After 2 days of rest I spent all day yesterday with Angie. Though she has only been working there 5 weeks, I like the hell out of this girl. I trained her which is probably why we get along so well...but we made fast friends. We have hung out three times, and they have always ended with us at a restaurant gossiping about life, love and writing. Yesterday we got some great Mexican food and then got lost in the most industrial town we have ever encountered. She has a GPS in her car so we decided to find a cafe so we could grab coffee and possibly find a used bookstore. We ended up in this really cool section of town that was completely Irish. Irish pubs, restaurants, cafes, deli, and even a supermarket.
There was this cool placed called the Irish Cafe where we grabbed some strong coffee and dessert. She likes to write which is really good, and of course we bonded over my weird date with Porter (seriously I think I hurt his feelings). We have the most in common or at least the most to talk about. She is bat shit crazy and has the loudest laugh I have ever heard but she doesn't mind getting lost, or trying new things. We stayed out till six and promised to hang out again when our schedules give us time to do so. She has an interview for a 'real' job on Monday and I am both happy and jealous for her.
After two coffees, Mexican food, apple pie and a raspberry crepe my body started to rebel on me. With the combination of a strong Irish brew and a mix of other things...I stayed up til 3 am. My mind was going insane and I cried for no reason at all. Ok, I cried for several reasons. Though I am excited about this new aspect of my life, I wonder if this is the person I wanted to be or even the person i want to become. i wonder if I am sacrificing one part of myself for another. I wonder if there is not some fine balance that i can find between my external facade and my internal anxieties.
If I can function in the 'real world' with people and responsibilities then why do i still feel all screwed up and weird and antsy and withdrawn. Why do I still want to retreat in a world of isolation. I am afraid of expectations. I am afraid of possessing potential and not being able to access it. I am afraid of letting people down, of being exposed as some fraud. That the girl who looks like she has it all together is really just...that girl in her house of anxiety.
I have been saying this often (to myself mostly), that i feel like myself yet distinctly different. Differences I don't know if I like, differences i often wonder about. If they are healthy, goal oriented, life altering, purposeful differences. If they are differences that I can live with and be responsible for. I feel exactly the same yet different, and I hope that these differences are beneficial though I wish to contain the things that make me feel like me.This could be the Irish coffee talking. I'm rambling and my stomach hurts. Never again will i drink two coffees in one night. I can do without.
There are several things I hate about working at a bookstore. Rude customers, rude children, closing, getting hit on by old men, teenagers trashing the store, and being anywhere near the cash register. I despise handling people's money and trying to sell a $25 dollar membership. Ain't doing it.
But there are some perks. Discounts on everything and there are a crapload of 20 year olds working at the bookstore all feeling the effect of the recession and limited job offers. This has brought my social life to life in a sense. There are some co-workers that I strictly hang out with at work and then there are those that i trust enough to hang out with outside of work (except for Porter. God I really really feel awful about that).
I don't seem to have a problem making friends which now puts a whole new spin on this anxiety thing. I can't even blame it on any external factors because in front of other people I am...okay. When I went home a couple of weeks ago, I traveled to my Alma mater to buy a sweatshirt (that I wear almost every day). I could not leave without stopping by my therapists office. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see him, but I left a note telling him that even though the real world is a lot different than i thought, I am okay. I am managing, i am dealing with the whole lot in stride. And as I continue to try to make something of myself here, I can only describe my current state as 'surviving and doing okay'.
There are a couple of girls at work that i consider more than buds. We are charting on 'friend' territory and I have made an effort to hang out with them outside of the confides of James Joyce and Stephenie Meyer. Since the new year I have hung out with Marisol (the graphic designer), Abagail (the PhD cello player) and Angie (the girl from Kansas). They are the three I have connected with the most based on our dissatisfaction with our careers and our similar interests. Unlike the rest of my co-workers I warmed up to these three pretty quickly (well it took a while with Abagail) and I knew I wanted to try the whole social thing with them.
On New Years Day Marisol and I saw Milk, went to the mall, had Italian food and discussed traveling the world. She is level headed, funny and in love with Emile Hirsch. She reminds me of my friends from childhood. There is nothing pretentious about. She's easy to be around and adventurous.
The Next day, even though i was tired, I had made plans to hang out Abagail. I was suppose to hang out with her on Christmas Eve (along with hanging out with Porter earlier in the day) but I had to cancel on her too because of my cousins birthday. She has depression and a lot going on, so I didn't want to cancel again and give her the wrong impression. I have become obsessed with the french culture again so i suggested a french movie and pizza at her place. She lives in this beautiful house on a street called Battle Hill. She has been inviting me to her place for a while to check out the place. I walked in and it was like a writers retreat. She has two roommates and they share a three story home. Really it's just a foyer(1st floor), followed by the main floor(2nd floor) which has two bedrooms, the kitchen, dinning room, living room and bathroom and then the third floor is really an attic converted into a bedroom. The house had so much character combined with the greatest natural light I have seen in a while. The floors were hardwood, and the decor was simple and chic. Her roommates are MA students while she is the only one working on her PhD. Because of this the house has music stands and music sheets all over the place. It was pretty fantastic.
We bought a lot of junk food for the two hour movie, but spent the better part talking. I think I like her because i relate to her sadness. I mean it is not the only reason I like her, but our sullenness connects us. She talked about her last relationships and the current issue she has with the boy she knows is the one. He is Argentinian but speaks six languages and has the bluest eyes I've ever seen. When she talked about him you can tell he meant the world too her despite his flighty ways.
We had a good time, I felt like an adult. We agreed we'd check out the Guggenheim soon because we are both obsessed with museums.
After 2 days of rest I spent all day yesterday with Angie. Though she has only been working there 5 weeks, I like the hell out of this girl. I trained her which is probably why we get along so well...but we made fast friends. We have hung out three times, and they have always ended with us at a restaurant gossiping about life, love and writing. Yesterday we got some great Mexican food and then got lost in the most industrial town we have ever encountered. She has a GPS in her car so we decided to find a cafe so we could grab coffee and possibly find a used bookstore. We ended up in this really cool section of town that was completely Irish. Irish pubs, restaurants, cafes, deli, and even a supermarket.
There was this cool placed called the Irish Cafe where we grabbed some strong coffee and dessert. She likes to write which is really good, and of course we bonded over my weird date with Porter (seriously I think I hurt his feelings). We have the most in common or at least the most to talk about. She is bat shit crazy and has the loudest laugh I have ever heard but she doesn't mind getting lost, or trying new things. We stayed out till six and promised to hang out again when our schedules give us time to do so. She has an interview for a 'real' job on Monday and I am both happy and jealous for her.
After two coffees, Mexican food, apple pie and a raspberry crepe my body started to rebel on me. With the combination of a strong Irish brew and a mix of other things...I stayed up til 3 am. My mind was going insane and I cried for no reason at all. Ok, I cried for several reasons. Though I am excited about this new aspect of my life, I wonder if this is the person I wanted to be or even the person i want to become. i wonder if I am sacrificing one part of myself for another. I wonder if there is not some fine balance that i can find between my external facade and my internal anxieties.
If I can function in the 'real world' with people and responsibilities then why do i still feel all screwed up and weird and antsy and withdrawn. Why do I still want to retreat in a world of isolation. I am afraid of expectations. I am afraid of possessing potential and not being able to access it. I am afraid of letting people down, of being exposed as some fraud. That the girl who looks like she has it all together is really just...that girl in her house of anxiety.
I have been saying this often (to myself mostly), that i feel like myself yet distinctly different. Differences I don't know if I like, differences i often wonder about. If they are healthy, goal oriented, life altering, purposeful differences. If they are differences that I can live with and be responsible for. I feel exactly the same yet different, and I hope that these differences are beneficial though I wish to contain the things that make me feel like me.This could be the Irish coffee talking. I'm rambling and my stomach hurts. Never again will i drink two coffees in one night. I can do without.
1 comment:
Okay, this is a bit off topic, but on the subject of "don't feel bad about the nape toucher": http://jezebel.com/5046087/when-the-nice-guy-down-the-street-makes-you-uncomfortable
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