I feel like I’m having a hard time remembering things.
Not just stupid short term things, I feel like I’m having a really difficult time recalling memories that were once important to me. I guess this has become more evident now that I’m talking and hanging out with more friends, old and new. Cynthia went through my camera and found pictures of a girl I used to date and I completely forgot about how much fun I had with her and various little details like her scars and how hilarious she was. One detail I only remember of another girl I dated was how her back felt a little ‘rougher’ than any other girl’s I’ve ever felt before. The other night, I had to think really hard about how once of my exes looked like.
I think reloading all my old music is helping me remember a lot.
I want to get back into music again… it almost feels like therapy. I miss all the things I used to do, like write and draw… things that kept my mind at ease. I’m falling into old habits that I simply haven’t had time to indulge in. The other night, I sat on a bench and simply enjoyed the night sky and the calming chill of the cold. I guess it sounds boring, but it really cleared my head and brought me back to times I had forgotten when I used to sit on the hood of my car and write in my journal many nights by the beach. Just thinking about it really relaxes my mind.
I haven’t blogged in a long time.
It’s 5am and I can’t sleep, too many things keep passing through my head. I’ve been meaning to get back into blogging as well, just to figure out some way to dump out all the excess bullshit accumulating in my mind and I figure this is the best way to release all the things in my head lingering.
Part of me didn’t want to get back to writing about my life because I’m not at all confident in my writing skills, but whatever.
I recently reuploaded a bunch of a music I placed into storage. Right now, I’m listening to Laura Veirs - “Pink Light” — I guess it reminds me of how different things were a year and a half ago.
Things have hardly changed since I’ve last written. I’m still in the same job, working the same wage, continuous steady amounts of stress. I do believe I get more respect since the last time I wrote, but I still have to deal with the same bullshit I’m sure every restaurant has.
I am happier in general though. I have amazing friends and family, which I am thankful for more than anything. My adventures lately have been amongst the LGBT community, which makes me feel a little less left of center. For the longest time, I’ve been used to being the token ‘queer/gay’ girl of the group, but I’ve been meeting a lot of LGBTs through friends and other odds and ends. The Monterey Area is a small place and the gay community is just a tiny minority, but it is a very warm and embracing family.
There have been a few little mistakes here and there. I did hook up with a really good (male) friend who is oblivious to my sexuality and may hold feelings much stronger than mine. I know it was out of drunken desperation on my part, which is never an excuse for taking advantage of another person.
Maybe I’m going from topic to topic, I’m going to use the fact that it’s 5:30am as a scapegoat. I’m listening to old songs from right before my break up until the summer I started working. As strange as it sounds, I can’t get myself to delete the mixes I made for my ex. I’d like to think I just don’t want to get rid of the compilations of music I put together, song by song, strategically organized by sound, type, and meaning, but I’m sure it’s just another thing that’s hard for me to throw out without emotion.
It’s storming outside and I have to work in several hours.
Note to self: Never forget how amazing St. Vincent’s music is.
My coworkers are slowly leaving. One guy put in his two weeks, another is going to be gone when May comes around. I don’t know if I can brave another summer on the line.
I texted one of my closest friends from culinary school the other day and she’s taking steps to make a different career move. She’s over the everyday stress, serving 300 people during one dinner shift, the lack of social life, etc. Working the line is a fun job, but it gets robotic and almost soulless after a while, especially if you work in a kitchen like mine. Constant criticism, not only about food, but some people go out of their way to make sure you feel like shit. I don’t like angry people, I’m getting over this.
But I don’t really have anywhere to go if I quit my job. Everyone has one foot out the door, but only some of us are actually stepping outside.
I’ve been thinking about relationships lately. The past couple of months, I’ve been trying to put myself out there and date and I must admit, there are some things I could see happening. I think I like someone, but …
Being single isn’t the biggest concern in my life, but the thought seems to inhabit my head at strange times.
Ambien makes me look up pictures of myself on Facebook and try to remember how happy I was then.
Sometimes I wonder why I give people the benefit of the doubt because it’s a constant slap in the face. I want to believe that I could have feeling for someone and then things will fall into place… I want to so badly. I bend over backwards hoping it will work out, but nine of of ten times, I end up being screwed over. It’s completely my fault too, I realize this. I’m naive when it comes to a lot of things.
I’m listening to a lot of Missy Higgins to deal. It just feels like almost a years worth of feelings down the drain and I should move on.
There’s so much I need to change about myself for the better… so much I know if I change, I’ll be happier.
I’m going to sleep it off.
I work in a pretty legit restaurant, conceptually, there really should be nothing to complain about. We’ve made it to the semi-final round of the James Beard Award for best new restaurant in the United States and we still might make the top 5. It’s actually the first job I’ve really been proud to tell people about.
It started out full-time, me working garde mange with another line cook, then slowly the pressure eliminated all the original line cooks except myself. I guess it gives me a little street cred to be the only one of the original crew left, I was there when the executive chef was throwing shit around the kitchen, yelling at people, making people cry, and I still haven’t cracked or walked out.
I do miss getting my hours though. My paychecks are probably half of what I used to make because of the cut hours.
The job takes its toll on me though… I guess the stress has been getting to me lately. Ever since the car accidently, I’ve been seriously on edge about a lot of things and it hasn’t help my work life at all. Now I’m starting to physically notice it in worsening of my insomnia and always feeling queasy.
Today, we got the confirmation that we made it to the semifinals for the James Beard Award, which is a REALLY big deal. It kind of makes all the bullshit and stress worth it… all the times I felt like quitting or finding something else to do almost seem to vanish.
Almost. Honestly, despite how seemingly amazing this job is, I’m still not entirely sure if this is the right path for me. There’s a lot of alcohol and drugs in the culinary industry and I don’t like that I’m almost jaded by it. I don’t know if I could work an hourly wage like this for the rest of my life…
I’m sure everyone has second thoughts about the whole dream job thing… I just wish I could make a living just writing or something simple like that… a steady wage and enough personal time to myself.
Winning the lottery would also be pretty sweet.
But alas, dreams usually stay dreams. The reality is that my situation isn’t horrible and every job will induce a decent amount of stress and doubt. Maybe I just need another day off.
I guess here’s the mandatory introduction blog.
Some may say this blog reinforces the stereotype of the post-grad twenty-something year old trying to figure out her life now that she has to set foot into the real world. So here I am, a grown up with a full-time job, paying bills, and having responsibilities. I have a family that supports me, friends that I’m so incredibly lucky to have, a roof over my head, a job that I actually went to school for… so why’s there a reason not to be happy more than just ‘sometimes’ as this blog entails?
I don’t know… I figure writing about it will help me out. I’ve never been a super open person about how I truly feel. I’m the type to pull a vanishing act when something goes terribly wrong in my life. Let’s use this example… last year, my then-girlfriend broke up with me and I decided disappearing off the face of the Earth was the best solution. I turned off my phone, disabled my Facebook, cried in my room for a month, then decided to run away to the east coast for a while. I’m not the type of person to call a friend, completely dismantled on the phone, I doubt I ever will be. I don’t like people seeing how completely demolished I can be.
There was a time when I remember being happier than I was before, but that time ended and now I’m in a pretty fair state of contentment. When I was happier, I was ignorant to whatever problems was about, I was too intoxicated by this so-called bliss, that my judgement was skewed… so when this stage of my life ended, I was completely blindsided. For lack of a better example, life now kind of feels like limbo; I’m basically stuck in purgatory.
It could be a lot worse, I am fully aware of that.
But I mean… I knew what it felt like when it was better.
Anyway, this will be a blog of random leaks of excessive bullshit that may fester in my mind… hence the name. My doctors said it would be healthy for me to write, antidepressants and anti-anxiety pills can’t do it all alone, yadda yadda yadda.
Good times and let’s enjoy the ride.