Last year, the bookstore cut a bunch of hours after the holidays. It's because one of my managers hires a bunch of people in preparation for the holidays and then as soon as Dec 26th comes along she has no idea what to do with said people.
She could fire those hired for the holidays. But she doesn't. She could space out hours fairly. But she doesn't. Instead she slashes hours like a mad women, and because of this I am clocking in, count them, 3 days next week. What the fudge. I am okay on money, but this is way frustrating especially when people who have been working there shorter than I have are clocking in five days! Five. I feel like such a wage whore, but seriously this is crap.
I am a little stressed out about the month of January. The holidays are over, my hours are going to dwindle away but I still have rent to pay and loans that need tending. I guess this means I am some sort of an adult now, whatever that means, but I am frustrated and confused and I want to quit.
So bad.
Marie keeps on me about this whole 'real world' thing that we are now apart of post school. Like a good friend she reminds me to keep writing, along with searching for jobs so I can get out of the bookstore. And in all honesty I need her to be the person who beats me up in order to get me off of my ass. But at the same time, if we are in the 'real world' now what the hell constituted the last 23 years of my life. A pseudo real world, a kind of real world, a world that I was sort of apart of but not really.
I don't know. But I am getting tired of my current situation. I feel weighed down by it. When I was a kid, my brother and I use to play at park in New Rochelle called 5 islands. The name is a given; the park was located along the Hudson River and was surrounded by 5 distinct islands. We'd go there during the summer and pretend to have these grand old adventures in the woods. One afternoon, along with his best friend John Moore who looked liked a gerbil, we decided to cross visit one of the islands.
Of course the islands were separated by water, but on days when the tide were low, you could literally walk to the islands on these barriers of rocks. It was tricky, and sometimes you would risk falling into the river but we had good balance and the path of rocks were pretty wide. On that particularly day getting to one of the islands was pretty easy, it took us about 30 minutes but when we reached the other end we felt like we had conquered some huge feat.
Once we got back on land, I decided we should try to bridge another path. Around a bend there was this huge stretch of land that no one ever played on. It look like an empty dirt lot, except with no trees or visible signs of life. My brother thought it would be awesome, John (who had a tendency of being the scared one) said he would stay behind and watch, and I was already running towards the amazing new field I thought I had discovered.
What I was unaware of at the time, is that that huge dirt field was actually wet sand, and as soon as I got 2 feet into the space I began sinking. I mean, knee deep in the stuff. At first I was like 'cool, quick sand' but then I realized the more I tried to wiggle myself out, the deeper I sank. John started screaming from afar "the sand is eating her!", my brother froze in fear, and I began to panic. The harder I tried to free myself, the more I irritated the sand. I had gone from being knee deep to thigh deep in the sand and was afraid of suffocation. It was the immobilizing moment of my whole entire life. Of wanting to free yourself from a trap, only to realize that's part of the trap.
Like Hercules himself, in one of the more heroic moments of my brothers life, he stretched his body as far as he could (without stepping in the sand) and pulled me out. It took him a good ten minutes, John then started yelling "the sand is eating both of you now!" but before long I was on solid ground and dirty as hell. When we got home my mom asked why we were so dirty, we made up some lie and blamed out dirty clothes on John (for being a wuzzy) and agreed to stay away from that part of the park after that.
I can't help but feel like I did then, right before my brother pulled me out of the sand with strength I didn't know he possessed. The moment where I was knee deep in something that threatened to consume me. It didn't seem real, I didn't seem real, the sand sure as hell didn't resemble any aspect of reality I had come across, and yet there I was being swallowed into the earth,trying to fight my way out to no avail. And it feels like that now in some way, like the harder I try to get out of it, the harder I try to lift one foot above the other, the further I sank and stopped resisting.
2010 is around the corner and I have no immediate plans for welcoming in the new year (Curb marathon, pizza, sparkling apple cider). A friend from work wants to go drinking at a pub located downtown, another wants to watch Doctor Who all day at his place. I have not decided yet. Dr Who would be interesting, but the pub serves hamburgers for 5 dollars plus a free beer. Not that I have ever gotten the beer just to eat the hamburger. Never.
I hate to be one of those people saying goodbye to the craptastic year that was 2009, in favor for the awesome that may be 2010 but seriously I hope that things will look up next year. I need it.
She could fire those hired for the holidays. But she doesn't. She could space out hours fairly. But she doesn't. Instead she slashes hours like a mad women, and because of this I am clocking in, count them, 3 days next week. What the fudge. I am okay on money, but this is way frustrating especially when people who have been working there shorter than I have are clocking in five days! Five. I feel like such a wage whore, but seriously this is crap.
I am a little stressed out about the month of January. The holidays are over, my hours are going to dwindle away but I still have rent to pay and loans that need tending. I guess this means I am some sort of an adult now, whatever that means, but I am frustrated and confused and I want to quit.
So bad.
Marie keeps on me about this whole 'real world' thing that we are now apart of post school. Like a good friend she reminds me to keep writing, along with searching for jobs so I can get out of the bookstore. And in all honesty I need her to be the person who beats me up in order to get me off of my ass. But at the same time, if we are in the 'real world' now what the hell constituted the last 23 years of my life. A pseudo real world, a kind of real world, a world that I was sort of apart of but not really.
I don't know. But I am getting tired of my current situation. I feel weighed down by it. When I was a kid, my brother and I use to play at park in New Rochelle called 5 islands. The name is a given; the park was located along the Hudson River and was surrounded by 5 distinct islands. We'd go there during the summer and pretend to have these grand old adventures in the woods. One afternoon, along with his best friend John Moore who looked liked a gerbil, we decided to cross visit one of the islands.
Of course the islands were separated by water, but on days when the tide were low, you could literally walk to the islands on these barriers of rocks. It was tricky, and sometimes you would risk falling into the river but we had good balance and the path of rocks were pretty wide. On that particularly day getting to one of the islands was pretty easy, it took us about 30 minutes but when we reached the other end we felt like we had conquered some huge feat.
Once we got back on land, I decided we should try to bridge another path. Around a bend there was this huge stretch of land that no one ever played on. It look like an empty dirt lot, except with no trees or visible signs of life. My brother thought it would be awesome, John (who had a tendency of being the scared one) said he would stay behind and watch, and I was already running towards the amazing new field I thought I had discovered.
What I was unaware of at the time, is that that huge dirt field was actually wet sand, and as soon as I got 2 feet into the space I began sinking. I mean, knee deep in the stuff. At first I was like 'cool, quick sand' but then I realized the more I tried to wiggle myself out, the deeper I sank. John started screaming from afar "the sand is eating her!", my brother froze in fear, and I began to panic. The harder I tried to free myself, the more I irritated the sand. I had gone from being knee deep to thigh deep in the sand and was afraid of suffocation. It was the immobilizing moment of my whole entire life. Of wanting to free yourself from a trap, only to realize that's part of the trap.
Like Hercules himself, in one of the more heroic moments of my brothers life, he stretched his body as far as he could (without stepping in the sand) and pulled me out. It took him a good ten minutes, John then started yelling "the sand is eating both of you now!" but before long I was on solid ground and dirty as hell. When we got home my mom asked why we were so dirty, we made up some lie and blamed out dirty clothes on John (for being a wuzzy) and agreed to stay away from that part of the park after that.
I can't help but feel like I did then, right before my brother pulled me out of the sand with strength I didn't know he possessed. The moment where I was knee deep in something that threatened to consume me. It didn't seem real, I didn't seem real, the sand sure as hell didn't resemble any aspect of reality I had come across, and yet there I was being swallowed into the earth,trying to fight my way out to no avail. And it feels like that now in some way, like the harder I try to get out of it, the harder I try to lift one foot above the other, the further I sank and stopped resisting.
2010 is around the corner and I have no immediate plans for welcoming in the new year (Curb marathon, pizza, sparkling apple cider). A friend from work wants to go drinking at a pub located downtown, another wants to watch Doctor Who all day at his place. I have not decided yet. Dr Who would be interesting, but the pub serves hamburgers for 5 dollars plus a free beer. Not that I have ever gotten the beer just to eat the hamburger. Never.
I hate to be one of those people saying goodbye to the craptastic year that was 2009, in favor for the awesome that may be 2010 but seriously I hope that things will look up next year. I need it.
2 comments:
2010 is going to rule! Just you wait and see. I recommend the NYE option that involves booze, btw. Don't sit around watching some crap ass tv show on a night when people are celebrating!
but I've already rented Sleepaway Camp 1 & 2, and bought the sparkly cider.
The day has just started though. I have a cell phone full of potential drinking buddies, I need to get on this celebration thing!
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