There’s no better way to realize how rough your life was at a certain point than to read the overwhelmingly depressing poetry you crafted at that time. A lot of makes me want to go back in time and smack younger me. I was so pathetic when it came to boys. I fell head-over-heels so damn quickly, and I thought each and every one was the one, my one true love. Not that I’m awfully different now, but at least I have more of a stable head on my shoulders. At least I’m not as depressed now as I was then.
I do want to make it known that without my friends and family, I wouldn’t have made it through that time in my life. My friends were my rocks, and my parents were the safety net that I could always fall into if I lost my balance. I knew that then, and I know that now. So, just a low-key shout-out to everyone in my life then and now. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for them, and I hope they know that.
After finishing season one of Riverdale, which was absolutely amazing, I’ve found inspiration to write again. Watching the show sparked an idea that I’ve played with for the past several years, and I’m revisiting it, but actually writing it down this time. It feels amazing to write again, and to write something I feel passionate about. The feelings actually feel genuine, and I’ve thought the story through so often that it’s flushed out enough to the point where it’s easy to write. God, this really is such a perfect feeling.
Thank you, Riverdale. And thank you, Cole Sprouse. His character, him as an actor, is what sparked this inspiration. Well, him and his brother Dylan. Okay. Particularly Dylan. He’s the namesake of one of my characters, actually. Even though I’ve used that name before. I changed the last name! Haha. I just love the name Dylan.
Regardless, expect to see a new story soon. Hopefully I finish it in the not too distant future!
I’m pretty sure I suffer from some form of depression and/or anxiety. I’ve previously been diagnosed with dysthymia, which is a chronic form of depression. The way it was explained to me is if depression is a wildfire that can be seen from the helicopters from high above, raging and so obviously destructive and hard to control, then dysthymia is a brush fire, something not so easily seen but still damaging when left unattended. And I definitely have some anxiety. I get so overwhelmed by everything I have to do on a daily basis, such as basic household chores and checking the mail or voicemail, that I freeze. I avoid it. Even bigger things, like checking my bank account or renewing my insurance, I freak out over. It’s not that I can’t handle it. Sometimes it’s as easy as just clicking a button. But the more I think about how I have to get it done, the harder it is to do it. And it’s not like I can get help, because that requires doing something, and even when I go to make that phone call, I freeze.
But the one thing I can do is get up and go to work every day. I don’t know why that isn’t a hard enough function, but it isn’t. You would think that if anything, that would be one of the hardest things. But no. It’s harder to check my voicemail, something I can do from my bed, than actually get out and go do work. Maybe it’s because I don’t hate my job. It can feel stressful in the moment, but as soon as I clock out, I’m fine. Everything rolls off my shoulder. I don’t wake up every morning with anxiety about the day like I did with my previous job. Sometimes, I actually love what I do. I hate the store, I hate management, but I love my job. So maybe that’s why I’m able to get up and go to work when even washing a dish seems like an impossible task.
So maybe I don’t understand this because I like my job and I’m not severely depressed, but I can’t understand how people let their depression hold them from working. Someone close to me has been out of work for the past month because he needed to take a mental break from everything. So now he’s living off his mommy’s money while he just sits on his couch, playing Xbox and Runescape all day. And he doesn’t even live at home. And this isn’t the first time he’s done this. And he’s not the first person in history to do this. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t understand how someone could do this, because it means I’m not at that point where I can’t even provide for myself. And even though I have a hard time doing anything, it eventually gets done when the anxiety of the repercussions of it not getting done trumps the anxiety of actually doing it. I always eventually get to that point. So maybe I’m just lucky that I can work things out on my own, and that my depression isn’t as bad as it could be. And it’s not that I’m judging everyone else. I know everyone’s got different shit in their lives and their minds aren’t the same as mine. I think maybe my problem is that while I understand that fact, I’m not entirely able to fully see things from their perspective.
I have a coworker, who works at the customer service desk, who insists she is better than everyone else. “I’m too smart to work here,” she continuously says. If she is, then why does she work there at Mall-Mart? She also goes on and on about how stupid all the managers and other associates are. Well, if she thinks she’s too smart for the job, then she must think they’re the appropriate level of intelligence for the job; so why is she complaining? Clearly she’s not too intelligent or she’d be somewhere else. She also complains that the place is making her sick, and her medical bills cost her more than she earns by working there. More reason to quit. And the thing that irritates me most about her incessant ranting is that she believes she’s smarter than me. Sure, there are dumb people there at Mall-Mart, but I am not stupid. I just don’t know what I’m doing with my life yet (and I also have a relatively useless arts degree) so I am there, earning money at a job I actually don’t hate until I figure shit out. Does that make me stupid?
I purchased a netbook today for a ridiculously great price at my place of employment. Like, the kind of price where you’d think about it for the rest of your life if you didn’t capitalize on it. I might not have needed the dumb little thing, but I couldn’t pass up the offer. If it turns out I don’t like the dumb thing, I can sell it on Facebook for much higher than I bought it. Like, I could turn a profit on this thing! But I think I’ll just keep it. I kinda like it. I love playing with new electronics. As an Electronics Associate, I am definitely in the right place. If I were in any other department, I’d probably hate my job. And if I had shitty co-workers. But I have great co-workers and I love technology, so I love my job.
This new Pokémon Go app feels like a glorified sticker-collecting game. Like, it’s not a real Pokémon game. You don’t pick a starter, go out in the wild and battle other Pokémon to train your own, you don’t have to weaken wild Pokémon in order to catch it, you (at the moment) can’t battle against or trade with other trainers. So, I was really against it when it came out. Also, from what I can tell, there are no stones for use in evolving Pokémon like Nidorino or Eevee. (Which begs the question: how does one get a Vaporeon, for example?) To evolve a Pokémon, you need to catch multiple duplicates and transfer them back to the Professor in order to receive Pokémon-specific candies. What happened to training and gaining experience points?? The gym set-up is so weird. That’s not how gyms really are. And finally, there are no PokéMarts or PokéCenters. Only PokéStops, which are stupid. The concept of the game is great, but I feel like it just isn’t genuine enough. Also, it requires constant data and GPS connections, which is not cool for people like myself who don’t have unlimited data, and it (along with the app needing to be constantly open) drains the battery. So, why has it caught on so well? Why are there accidents being caused by this stupid thing? And, why do I find myself wanting to just wander around Oneonta in attempts to catch them all? I get that it’s Pokémon, and it’s the closest I’ll ever get to being an actual Pokémon trainer. Regardless, the entire system just really irks me. It feels like a cheap knock-off and I feel like a sell-out by playing it.
Pet peeve: when people talk about their favorite teams, why do they include themselves? For example, my friend was talking about the Cincinnati Bengals and was like, “This was the game that we had won and the refs ruined it for us by ignoring a Pittsburgh penalty.” (I wasn’t in the loop last season so I have no idea what she is talking about. My grandma and my own health were more important last winter.) But like, is she on the team now? No, she’s not. So why the fuck is she including herself by saying we?? That shit bothers the fuck out of me.
I want to know why people shopping in a store are allowed to be so downright rude and obnoxious to employees. If I had stood up for myself today, I would have gotten in trouble, because the customer is always right. Well, not when the customer is trying to do things that isn’t allowed by the rules and regulations and procedures of cellular network companies.
But the customer is allowed to be a rude person while I get to go home, internalize this, and drink away the anger and tears. Like, lady, it’s not my fault that you and your husband are going through a separation. Based on how you treated me today, I’m not surprised. Good for him.
I have to say. Today was probably my worst day at the job. The first day where I almost snapped at a customer and willingly accepted termination. I don’t know if I should be proud or sad that it took three months to get to this point.
This has been bothering me for some time now–not as much now as a few months ago, but it still applies: I’m ashamed to tell people that I work at specific department store chain–I’ll call it Mall-Mart on here.
It’s stupid. I love my job and am good at it. Most of the people I help are super nice and tell me that I’m super polite and really helpful. I work in the electronics department and I actually know what I’m talking about (most of the time), or I make it sound good. For the most part, I like and get along with my coworkers. (Aside from one who gets under my skin in ways few people can.) I can put in my hours and go home and enjoy my time without any kind of homework or stress about if I did this right or if I need to do that tomorrow or if my boss will come in too hungover and not like the way I smile at him and decide to fire me or, worse, scream at me in front of everyone. I don’t have to worry about my boss saying some uncomfortable comment (about blondes and convertibles, for example). The worst I have to worry about is an asshole customer, which don’t even bother me that much anymore. I don’t have to make sure I’m in a creative mood or ready to organize an office. I can just go in and stock shelves and help people and zone departments–perfect for someone like me who is in a weird point in their life where basic functions are about all that can be expected of them.
But there’s this stigma about working at Mall-Mart, and I hate it. When I told one of my aunts that I applied, she was like, “Oh, great, another Mall-Mart employee to stand around and talk about their weekend while pointing in a vague direction to direct me to something I can’t find. Get out while you can. You’re too smart for that place. You’re wasting your brain.” A lot of people were also like, “I’m sorry,” or, “Oh, that sucks!” Why? How does having a job that I’m good at suck? How does getting a paycheck suck? How does supporting myself so I don’t have to live in my parents’ basement suck? How does going to the movies and buying nice things suck?
So if I’m so happy where I am, why do I feel ashamed to tell people where I work? If I think it’s stupid that people look down at Mall-Mart as an employer, why do I mutter the answer to the question, “Where do you work?” or avoid the question entirely? Why do I feel compelled to add, “Surprisingly enough, I actually love it,” after telling someone I work there?
I hate it.