Part two.
2001-09-21 1:09 p.m.
(OK, this is kinda funky, but if we can all just remain calm, it isn't really as complicated as it seems.See, Tuesday night, I started doing an entry. Then, D. wanted to hang out, so I transferred what I had so far to WordPad. I'm just getting back to it now. Three days later. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't wanna hear about it. So anyway, I looked at what I had saved just now, and realized that although it's not everything I wanted to say, it just doesn't seem right, finishing it now. It goes against the whole integrity of instant thought publication. I can't just rewrite the entry from scratch either, though. I'm still feeling a lot of the same things, but maybe today I'd express them completely differently. To make a long story short(too late), that last entry is what I was thinking about Tuesday. What follows today is a continuation of those thoughts, but with all the wisdom and perspective and maturity I've gained in the last three days, or something.) *** Actually, I have no new thoughts. I was right, though. Marie is apparently still "training" too, and it does indeed suck. Gawd, I don't wanna go in tonight and tell her she's in the back section again. She was in the front once last week, and except for maybe a 10 minute span when she got slammed, she did just fine, but Lusy freaked out, and she's been confined to the back all this week. But that was Tuesday's rant. Moving onward. I'm feeling kinda odd about talking to D. about all this. About three weeks ago, I said to him, "Hey, guess what, I GET TOMORROW OFF!!" and he just flipped. He went off on a long rant about how I never do anything but complain about my job, if I hate it so much I should do something else. I was trying to be positive. All I'd said was "I get a day off!" Remember, at the time, I'd had maybe two days off in the entire preceeding month. I think a little burned out ranting is perfectly justifiable. And I thought I was expressing it humorously. That's what I meant to do, anyway. So, now I'm afraid to tell him when my job is stressing me out, even a little. I won't even mention the whole training thing to him. But that hurts. It feels like I'm not being honest with him, by not getting to whine a little. I know I don't really mean it. Why doesn't he? Aaand then we get into the whole issue about maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not happy. I can't see myself being happy with any job, though. I'm pretty sure that eventually, I would bitch about almost anything that wasn't staying in bed with George and reading all day. I'm lazy. I know this. But I also know it drives him crazy that I'm not doing something "worthwhile." I'm happy with my job. At least, I think I am. Most of the time. When I'm not working every goddamn day and training people who clearly don't need it, that is. I know I do it well. That's gotta count for something, right? I don't even know.
previous--next
| 
