Oh hai. I should write..

So I realized I hadn't written in awhile.
I have an interview Monday at Blue Dog RV. I called back the hiring manager, expecting to just set an interview time, but wound up getting phone interviewed by him and the owner?manager? big boss, anyway. Felt blindsided, but I guess I did alright, since they set the in person interview. Position is service administrator, I think. Basically the liaison between customers and technicians. Similar to what I did at T&T and Trismart, but different product and in person instead of remote. I figured it would be a good way to learn more about RVs before I get one.
In other news, work shorted my check ($13 less than what I needed for bills-and about $100 less than I was expecting, and leaving no money for the week), but thankfully my brother was kind enough to help me get a rental car & gas money so I can go to Eugene this weekend for Jesse Creighton's memorial and to see my mom. Still waiting to hear from Annie if Daisy wants to tag along or not.
Work has been a bit better since Sir John and Heather and I had a sit down. John thought that I had said that he should treat me special because we are friends. I almost blew up. I did not say that, I WOULD NEVER say that, much less believe it. I have been a manager, and that is not something I would EVER say or believe. Whoever told him that was clearly trying to start shit. So yesterday's close with John was good, and we went to his place for wine after work. He had said in our meeting that we just shouldn't talk about work when we hang out. I didn't, until HE brought it up, lol. I thought that was funny. But then he clarified, no we just shouldn't talk about US at work outside of work, lol. I close with him again tonight, as closing bagger, which means in a check stand while we are busy and then cleaning registers and doing go backs closer to close. Jon Hitt wants me to come in as early as I can, but I woke up late this morning so I think I'll only go in an hour early.
Ok, that's my update, sorry for the lack of clever philosophical ramblings this time, maybe in my next entry. :)

I'm mediocre. And I hate it.

I spent so many years trying to be "well rounded" that I never really got *good* at anything. I was a mediocre DJ. I am a mediocre singer. I am a mediocre writer. Passable, but not great.

I'm a mediocre employee. I'm good at being a self checkout attendant, but I am only so so in a check stand (my production numbers suck) and I have an attitude problem when I feel something is unjust, or if I don't get my break in a reasonable amount of time.

I'm a mediocre friend. Sometimes I'm loyal ride or die, and other times I want to care but I just don't.

I was a mediocre student when I was in school. Not living up to my "potential" they said. Whatever.

When all you are is mediocre, it becomes so hard to care about anything anymore. Because you feel like you'll never be good enough anyway.

Well, it's official..

...I have been accepted for admittance at PCC. Of course, it will hinge on financial aid (NO LOANS! just grants and scholarships), but my plan is to go take some writing classes so I can get better at writing articles, with the goal of becoming a travel journalist. Journalism degree? Not sure yet. But I want to be a better writer.
In other news, I will be at $15 an hour at Freddy's most likely by sometime next week. Then I decide if the pay raise is enough to keep me there. I'll give it at least a month before I decide. And if the answer is no, then I start trying harder to find a different job. That pays *over* $15 an hour. If it exists.
So, day off tomorrow, take PCC placement tests either online or at the SE Campus, since it's been so long (27 years!!!) since I've been in school. Work on my FAFSA. Check out what writing classes are available. Possibly join Chloe on her adventure to the Portland Art Museum.
But now, time to get ready to leave for work.

My everything hurts...

My whole body hurts from 5 straight 9+ hour shifts at Freddy's. I need to do laundry but I'm dreading having to carry the super heavy laundry basket downstairs to the laundry room. I'm hoping it was just because of the long week, and not a thing that's going to make me wind up having to quit for my health. I hit up Byram last week but haven't heard back. I have one of his customers calling my personal cell phone needing help because he couldn't get a hold of  Byram, so that tells me he's probably not back on track with T&T yet, if he ever will be.

Ok, laundry is in, and yes it was painful. And I am sooooo unmotivated to do much of anything else right now. Depression? Exhaustion? Probably. I can't even think of anything to write. Ugh.

Well, fuck.

So sometime between October and April, Lyft changed "5 years since DUI" to "7 years since DUI" so now I have to wait another damn year. WTF.
I'm going to lose my damn mind. Time to really sit down and focus on blogging and affiliate marketing as a money making gig.
On the plus side, I only have 119 hours left to work before I'm at $15 an hour at my current job. If I can survive that long. Don't get me wrong, I love customer service and I am good at it. No, when I will leave it will be because of one person.
John Hitt told me yesterday that I am essential to the front end, I am good at what I do and they need me. I'm glad at least someone higher up than me feels that way. It helps keep me motivated to not flip my shit on this one other person.
Seriously I'm just tired of the stupid drama. Hence the upcoming Freddy's-as-a-high-school screenplay. Some people are not going to be happy about how I characterize them. Some people won't realize that it's intended to be exaggerated and satirical. So it won't be released until I no longer work there. Which, considering how slow I am at writing, shouldn't be an issue, lol.

Mean Clerks (working title)

So I think I've figured out how to deal with my work stress. I'm going to write a screenplay. Turn Freddy's into a high school. People who work there will be characters in the story. Dave is the leader of the rock band (of course-no brainer). Clark is the guy who always gets the lead in the school play. Joshua is his understudy. Simone is the really nice girl that everybody likes. Sir John, of course, is the GBF diva. Parker is that sarcastic bitch that everybody likes even if they won't admit it. Nick is the nice-guy-with-a dark side. I'll add more as I think of it. The story starts out with me as the new girl in school. Nice girl but kind of an attitude. It ends with me telling the next new girl my story. EEE!! I'm excited about this idea.

Holding out for a hero

I keep feeling, dear God, send someone to rescue me from this hell I've created for myself. Then I realize I have to be my own hero. But where do I start? Different job. But I work so much it's hard to find one. All the rejection letters certainly don't help my motivation. I'm reapplying for Lyft on Monday, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up.. else rejection will be devastating. I'm just so sick of my current workplace. I like what I do, I'm just sick of the stupid drama. And feeling trapped. I've worked so many jobs that *I* decide when I take a break that being forced into a set breaktime is frustrating. I need to go back to working from home. Except then I'll get less exercise unless I make myself join a gym or something.
But. I need to be my own hero and get this shit figured out.

I suck at this...

I hate writing when I feel like all I'm doing is complaining. Yeah, I'm broke. So is most of the country. Because we are a corrupt oligarchy, not a democracy. Bernie Bernie Bernie. I spoke with a co worker today who, while progressive, will not vote for Bernie because, "Enough old white men". Um, no, Bernie is different. She didn't see my point of view. It made me sad.
I just want to be happy. But as long as I am stressed about money (among other things), happiness is an unattainable dream. Money. My health. Getting kicked off Medicaid and Food stamps because while I do not make enough to pay my damn bills, let alone buy groceries, I make too much for Medicaid or food stamps. This is fucking bullshit.
And I haven't been writing lately, mostly because I am finding it difficult to put things into words. Despite the fact that I had my annual review today at work and my boss (one of them- Jon Hitt) abruptly stopped midway and said, as if just figuring it out, "You are incredibly intelligent, aren't you?" I could only respond, almost robotically, "I am of above average intelligence, yes." he responded, "no you're a genius." He also used those dreaded words I remember from my teen years, "You have so much potential". I said "Story of my whole goddamn life, dude." But in my early twenties I contemplated that perhaps it wasn't that I had so much potential, but that people thought that I had way more potential than I actually did. High school teachers lamenting that I wasn't living up to my potential was the bane of my existence. Like, maybe you are expecting more out of me than I am able to give. And now I have to stress about being a failure when I'm really just ok.
I spent so much time in my life trying to live up to this idea that I was extraordinary when hey, maybe I'm just, ya know, not. But even writing that feels wrong. I am pretty amazing, just maybe not as amazing as people in my life feel I "should" be. Because, you know, potential.
WTF am I doing wrong?

Head fog..

Suffering from monumental head fog today, among other things. Chloe thinks I just need to drink more water, but so far it's not helping. Just making me feel waterlogged. Hopefully my body will absorb the water and I'll be better. Freaking out about not having any money this week...again. So.damn.tired. of being fucking broke that I want to cry. I work so hard to barely be surviving and it is making me so frustrated. Can't take out a loan because my credit is destroyed. I just don't know how much more I can take. I just want to give up. Crawl under a rock and die.
It's Mercury retrograde. It's this horrendous monthly. It's Effexor withdrawl. Wtf ever, I just want to feel better again. I WANT TO HAVE MONEY TO PAY BILLS AND ALSO BE ABLE TO DO STUFF IF I WANT TO. And buy groceries.
If this is the Effexor withdrawl, why the fuck am I taking something that has such horrible side effects when I stop? Happy to get off it. Sad that I turned to it in the first place. I should be able to fix myself without drugs. Mental stuff anyway, depression, whatever. Of course, I only stopped because I lost health insurance and I can't afford it on my own. Yet another problem tied back to being fucking broke. No idea how I am going to afford my Tamoxifen or Atorvastatin. I ran out of the Atorvastatin already and I take my last Tamoxifen on Tuesday, two days before payday. SO SO SO SICK OF BEING FUCKING BROKE.

I'm not special.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not being down on myself. Just realistic. EVERYone has a story. When I was younger, I thought my life story would make an interesting read. Maybe I would inspire someone. You read all the time about how normal people are. But I thought I was different. I'm white, but I grew up as a minority on an island of mostly brown people. I lived on Alcatraz Island as a toddler. John Lennon sang to me in a bookstore in California. I had a radio show as a teen. But the older I get, the more I realize that EVERYone has an interesting story. Some you have to dig deeper than others to find. Take my sister for example. She is...extraordinary. She has overcome so many obstacles, only to be dealt more all the time. Yet she managed to raise two amazing girls. If she ever wrote an autobiography, I would read it in a heartbeat. Reading this, you might think we've had an amazing relationship. But we didn't. I spent a lot of time being so frustrated by her. I wish I'd spent that time helping her. We've been a lot closer the last few years, true. But we still have work to do to be better sisters. Mostly me.
But my point, if I can find it again, is that I'm not as interesting as I thought I was. I'm ordinary. But only because we are all extraordinary. And in a world of extraordinary people, extraordinary is ordinary. Now I feel like I'm in a George Orwell novel. For more reasons than one.

Seventeen...

I know it sounds, well, ridiculous, but tonight's episode of Riverdale turned me into a big bawling baby. It was a musical episode (of course, lol). There was this song called 17.. basically about being a normal 17 year old, which on Riverdale, none of them are. For one, none of the actors are even teenagers, but also, none of their characters are remotely "normal" 17 year olds. And I started thinking about myself at 17. And how much I related to NOT being a "normal" 17 year old. I was living with my "fiance", in my family's apartment in Hawaii. He was cheating on me with my best friend. I basically had a nervous breakdown. Dropped out of high school. That wasn't supposed to be me, I was smart, I was going places. But I got sidelined by fucking teen angst. Not that I am blaming him, or her. I mean shit, they're still together to this day. They were obviously meant to be. I blame myself. I wish I could have just let it all go and focused on myself, concentrated on MY future. But I was a fucking dumbass. Why couldn't I have just been "normal"?
Which leads me back to me. I went into radio. Because I really, really wanted it. But the pay sucked, and I lacked motivation. Still. Now I'm 49. I want to do voice over work. I pin pins on Pinterest about it. I relish the chance to do an overhead at Freddy's because I KNOW my voice sounds professional. But my dentures make me self conscious. I feel like I lisp. Even though people still always comment about my professional sounding voice. I think I just need to get the fuck over myself and GET IT DONE.