transparencey is bliss
I am starting my memoir now. So I can progress with it over the years, reflect, and read it at the age of ninety knowing I finally put something on paper. I have always had my damn nose stuck in a book. When I don't want to deal with life and it's numerous curve balls, I read. When I don't want to clean my apartment, or pay my bills, I curl up and read. And I find myself reading the most, coincidentally, when I don't want to deal with what I should do with my life. I am currently reading Bill Blass's memoir, and am completely taken aback at his intellect and our similar backgrounds. One major thing I noticed while reading this, is that Mr. Blass took his life situation, and looked for a way out, opposed to myself, when I just like to dwell and reflect until I drive myself absolutley mad.
I remember standing in front of the L.E.D. curtain of the W. 18th street fashoin show last week, sighing and thinking, "why have I neglected this for so long?! It's what I love?" I also remember having a complete breakdown last summer in my dingy apartment that is in the middle of the woods. I remember starting a pot of tea, opening the sliding glass door, smelling the leaves in the fall air, and I just started balling. I started crying, and crying I couldn't stop. I then presumed to throw myself down in the middle of the living room mumbling, "What should I do with my life God? Should I be a writer? I don't want to be poor! I have been miserable the last few years, what about if I die tomorrow? I don't want to die unhappy!"
*One of my managers sat me down the other day at work..." is everything okay?" she said in a nosey tone. I stared at her like she was clear inside. Gee...where do I start. Every single person I work with is not making any money, none of us can pay our bills, and our "managers" talk to us like five years olds. I spend every night of my life sweeping up crumbs, and picking gum off the bottom of tables. My job is to get overwieght people more ketchup, or cheap people "a stronger drink" while they run my ass off and barely tip me. I am 25 and have nothing to show for myself besides being a waitress, every day I am working here I want to shove a fork through my eye when some stuck up white bitch asks me for their salad dressing on the side, and then ask me "did you hear me?" As soon as I bring them their salad however, they presume to dump the entire contents of dressing on their salad, and then turn around and ask me for more. How degrading of a job could someone have? And more importanly, how could you not notice how miserable everyone is here, while your walking away with a salary check in your hand?
I looked at her dead in the eye and said, "no" as I prayed to God he would help me get to my dream job a little faster.
I remember standing in front of the L.E.D. curtain of the W. 18th street fashoin show last week, sighing and thinking, "why have I neglected this for so long?! It's what I love?" I also remember having a complete breakdown last summer in my dingy apartment that is in the middle of the woods. I remember starting a pot of tea, opening the sliding glass door, smelling the leaves in the fall air, and I just started balling. I started crying, and crying I couldn't stop. I then presumed to throw myself down in the middle of the living room mumbling, "What should I do with my life God? Should I be a writer? I don't want to be poor! I have been miserable the last few years, what about if I die tomorrow? I don't want to die unhappy!"
*One of my managers sat me down the other day at work..." is everything okay?" she said in a nosey tone. I stared at her like she was clear inside. Gee...where do I start. Every single person I work with is not making any money, none of us can pay our bills, and our "managers" talk to us like five years olds. I spend every night of my life sweeping up crumbs, and picking gum off the bottom of tables. My job is to get overwieght people more ketchup, or cheap people "a stronger drink" while they run my ass off and barely tip me. I am 25 and have nothing to show for myself besides being a waitress, every day I am working here I want to shove a fork through my eye when some stuck up white bitch asks me for their salad dressing on the side, and then ask me "did you hear me?" As soon as I bring them their salad however, they presume to dump the entire contents of dressing on their salad, and then turn around and ask me for more. How degrading of a job could someone have? And more importanly, how could you not notice how miserable everyone is here, while your walking away with a salary check in your hand?
I looked at her dead in the eye and said, "no" as I prayed to God he would help me get to my dream job a little faster.
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