Premeditated Misconduct

Ugh. I'm now working full-time, and my new regular shift is 6 am to 2 pm. I hate it less than doing a mid-shift, though, so I'm not bitching too hard. (Jinya is. She really dislikes my new schedule, because I have to go to bed so early that it's hard for us to do anything together.)

God, I love sleep. I think I love sleep more than sex. Of course, it's been so long since I've had sex I'm not sure if I even remember what I'm missing. *le sigh*


Speaking of, Jinya is once more dealing with receiving too many offers of dates/too much interest. Considering that no one's flirted with me, shown any interest in me at all, asked me out, or tried to set me up in something like five solid years, I'm having trouble empathizing.


Sweet Jesus, this last week was stupid-hot. Heat indexes over 100. Nasty muggy wet heat. Most of the summer was a gorgeous, breezy 70 to mild 80, and then suddenly this gross shit. Ugh.


Rescued stray orange tabby Taffy has adjusted well. She's put on a lot of weight; her coat's filled in and gotten glossy; her ears are clean and her breath smells a lot better. She no longer hisses at the other cats much, and even when she does, it's just rote habit; she's not actually bothered by them anymore. She finally became healthy/energetic enough to start playing, too, and she's still a total cuddle-bug.


Our two enormous oscars seem to be done trying to out-dominate each other for the moment. They've gotten into few fights-- epic, water-sloshing boxing matches-- which resulted in a few missing scales and a few rips in fins-- nothing major. Most of their confrontations have been the fish equivalent of, "COME AT ME, BRO!" Interestingly, Rudy now goes belly-up everytime the Admiral approaches. She looks like a submissive dog, and I wonder if that's how oscars indicate submission, too.


We tried getting feeder fish at PetSmart in Faribault the other day. The service was so bad I thought Jinya's head was going to turn 365 degrees and pop off in a shower of magma. We got in there just behind a woman and her litter of seven kids (?!). There were only two employees in the store: one was tied up with that woman, and the other couldn't leave the register. Now, I understand, "I'm sorry, but I have to stay by the registers"-- I do. But the registers are only twenty feet from the fish tanks, and there's a clear view that whole way. She could have easily helped us quickly while keeping an eye on things. NO ONE CAME IN ANYWAY.

So we told her that we'd do a few other errands and come back, and asked if it was possible to have twenty feeder fish bagged up by the time we got back.

When we came back, we found the one employee had freed herself from the woman and her kids, and was dipping our fish.

ONE.
BY.
ONE.

Like, not scooping out a bunch at a time, but dipping single fish. Why? She was trying to get a particular color. What the ever loving fuck. It took FOREVER.

And meanwhile, the children are everywhere, asking nonstop questions. Rather than watch the employee get distracted AND give out incorrect information, Jinya was fielding all of their inquiries while the employee carefully caught individual fish and bagged them up. (Twice. The first bag leaked.)

By the time we left, Jinya was apoplectic. Kept screaming, "THEY'RE GONNA GET TWO THOUSAND MORE IN TWO DAYS! I DON'T CARE IF THE KIDS LIKE 'THE PRETTY ONES'! THEY'RE FEEDER FISH!" It was pretty funny.



My boss's boss's boss was in the other day. What a douche. He wasn't directly douchey to me-- unless you count the number of time he asked me about finishing a planogram I started before he came (aka: when I was NOT the only person on the floor) while simultaneously depriving me of everyone else that could help me do customer service. Seriously. He took Adam, which left me and Toni...and then he took Toni, too. So I was the only person helping customers and ringing people up. And he has the balls to ask me why my plano wasn't getting done? *smh* F'r fuck's sake.

Mostly though, it was listening to him high-handedly explain everything that's wrong, everything that needs fixing, and everything we should be doing, and then watching him leave. Oh yes, he knows what's best alright. *eyeroll* Oh, and of course we're cutting hours, so he wants ten times the amount of work done with a smaller crew, while providing excellent customer service. Dude. Saved payroll, good customer service, all tasks around the store being completed several times a day: pick one and a half. You can't have all three. It doesn't work that way.


I haven't been keeping up well with folks online. My apologies. I've been working and sleeping and trying to lose myself in fictional worlds again. It's been so damn hot I'm unmotivated to do anything other than shower and sleep and stare blankly at the screen. I'm not depressed; just lazy.

I think I weirded out a coworker yesterday. He was talking about some films he has to watch for class. I asked, "What titles?" and he responded, "Ma Vie En Rose or something like that." I then proceeded to squee, "I love that movie!"

I'm pretty sure he thought I was joking, and I so wasn't.


So I've been at OfficeMax for over three months now. Things are going fairly well. I have some issues with management-- occasionally they get it into their heads to tell us to do three different things at the same time-- but it's short-term, minor annoyances. My coworkers are a lively bunch, overall, and I get along well with most of them.


There is one woman that I just roll my eyes at. Kristie's four years older than me and she's... How to put this? Gone full-on adult-mode power wife. I highly doubt anyone would put us in the same age bracket: she's tanned (and with the beginnings of skin damage from tanning) and covered in make-up, with high-lights in her hair-- she looks like a woman trying too hard, in my opinion. Her main hobbies seem to be her family, her daughter's softball, and working.

She seems to really hate my casual intelligence. (That sounds like braggadocio, I know.) She gets snippy and mocking when I talk about learning languages, for example. Another coworker is an immigrant from Somalia (he's lived here for eight years), and he's been half-assedly teaching me Somali-- some casual phrases, that sort of stuff. Last night he was showing me Arabic writing, and Kristie was just, "That's not a word! That's just a bunch of lines and dots. It's a smiley face! That isn't a word!" until I finally wrote a few words in English, pointed at them, as said, "Do you think those lines and dots are words? It's no different."

And she calls herself "old" a lot. Which is primarily annoying because she's only four years older than me. If she's old, I'm old. And I am not old.
She has these strict lines on what she will or will not do based on some arbitrary age limit or something. Sports are okay, but climbing trees is something she's too old for. Things like that. She's just so...stick-in-the-mud. Of course, I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm off my rocker.


Everyone else is fun to work with, and by now I feel comfortable selling and all that. Store manager's already considering promoting me.

Let me predict for you my half of the dialogue for most of my day:

"Maybe, that depends."
"If your name is on this list."
"Well, did you reserve a copy of the book at this store?"
"Then no, sorry."
"I didn't do it. Blame corporate for not ordering enough."
"Sorry, man."
"Sure you can talk to a manager."

Since being at cashwrap for a few months, I have a new round of complaints about people's behavior...

( Don't be an asshole. )

11) The line is down there. Please go wait in line. Those other people were waiting first. GO WAIT IN THE DAMNED LINE.

Feeling a bit out of it now and then the last few days. Sleepy, tired, lethargic, bored and yet restless, angry, obstinate. I don't know what my problem is.

I'm getting stuff done, and sometimes I'm even doing a good job on it. I'm very happy with my Taoism midterm (in which I compared the tao of the Tao-Te Ching and the logos of The Gospel of John); I've stitched up the massive holes in three pairs of my jeans; I mailed off my FAFSA, organized my closet, located my sandals, did most of my reading for tomorrow's classes, wrote more on my original story for my writing class, and started a new piece of fanfic (Envy/Ed/Wrath, for those curious).

There's a free Stuart Davis concert in St. Paul this Sunday that I will, of course, be attending.

Speaking of this weekend... *raises a brow* May or may not be having company. *pokes wolfe_guardian* I don't know if that plan's still go, but you are always welcome here, darlin', and I do mean always. (What? Don't you know? You were adopted! ^_^) You're a delight, truly.
And in another week, ozen will be gracing me with her lovely, lively presence. Yippie! I'm so looking forward to it.

I actually have a job interview with--of all places!--the Sanrio store in the Mall of America on Monday. (Because I'm such a Hello Kitty-type person! *snortlaugh*)
Hell, I even got my hundred dollar room deposit back from Northland today, so I have a little more money.

(Things I Still Need to Get Done:
-Develop film
-Return library books!
-Deposit check
-Patch other two pairs of pants
-Write up evaluation)

But I'm just not feelin' the love for some reason.
I'm not feeling like I'm hitting my stride. Everything's a bit off. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not living up to my potential. I'm not doing good enough; I'm slacking.
But at the same time, I don't want to do anything but slack.

Damn it, I want to be a better person! I want to be someone worthwhile; I want to be someone competent and respectable and friendly and responsible and approachable.
I want to be me, but all the good and none of the bad. I want to be the Mary Sue version of me.
I get so tired of being a fuck-up. Of being a slacker. Or sitting on my ass and blowing time. Of being lazy. Of being irresponsible. Of wasting who I am and what I could be if I just applied myself.

I hate my own hypocrisy.
I hate my envy and useless rage.
I hate my helplessness in the face of my own failings.
I hate all my faults, and if I could take a razor to them and excise them-- like cutting out my right eye or my hand-- I would.
I hate my hatred, but I can't see to do anything about it.

(God, I feel now the way I usually feel when I've been off my Zoloft for a few weeks...and that's not a good sign, 'cause I'm taking the damned stuff. >.< Fuck you, expensive medication.)

I think I need to take some time to back off and assess myself.
*sigh*

Today is not my last day of work...
...but it is the last day I am going, because tomorrow I am calling in and then going up to Ashland, where my (nor Tom's) cell phone gets reception, and I am taking a week-long vacation.
I don't feel bad about this much.
(I mean, I do, because I feel really irresponsible, and I feel bad for the people I am abandoning on their shifts, and I feel nervous that Tom will find out and get really mad, and lots of other things...but it's not enough to make me stay here for three more days of work when I've quit and miss my only chance to go to Ashland until Christmas.)
I asked for those days off, I said I wasn't going to be in town, and it's my last days of work.
Tom can't find out though, or he'll get pissed.


I am going to Ashland, and dammit, I'm going to have a good time.
I wanna be strung out on coffee and anime and androgynous J-rockers, DeepWater Long Islands, good times with friends, and be completely irreverant. I'm attending Queeb; I'm going to the Shingle Shack Halloween party (if they are having one again). I'm getting a buzz off of anything the area has to offer, including the cold air off the Lake. I'm visiting with people, hanging out on the Mall, and generally being lazy as all hell.

(And do my homework for next week, of course, but there really isn't a lot of it, so I'm not that worried. About twenty pages of Tillich and 100 pages of Martin Luther to read, and I have to write a two-page paper on Augustine's "love-box"-- don't ask.)

I can't wait to be there. I wanna be there now. I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the next eight hours of work.

AND...I have the cutest Halloween costume! Yay for little black kitties!

I don't really have anything else to say... I guess I'll see most of y'all reading this pretty soon!

So most of you know by now that I got my financial aid check.
It's really big. It's lots of money. It's enough money for my to live off of for half of a year, and it only has to last me until February...and then I get another one!

Now.

I really want to quit my job.
I can. I can afford to do that now.
I can quit my job and look for another one-- one that is actually satisfying, one that makes use of my expensive, expansive education, one that I won't be ashamed to put on a resume.

However...should I?
Probably not.
I should probably just go down to part-time, and then look for a job.

However, I want most of next week off anyway, and not having a job for a while would give me the flexible schedualing I need to do appointments with my therapist, day-long events, stuff up at school, and I could even go home (or at least somewhere) for Christmas. Plus the fact that J(anuary)-term is a month long session of class everyday, and I don't know how I would do that with the kind of work schedualing I have at my current job; I'm also seriously considering doing a full class load or four classes in spring, which Tom thinks will kill me, and then doing another J-term (June).

Another thing about this is that I want to quit, and I don't want to say, "Here's my two-week's notice." I want to basically do a "No-call, No-show" until they give up on me ever coming it, or else just call them up and say, "I quit!" and never go back. I want to be rid of it immediately, not horsing around until the first week in November.

Also, my advisor, Paul-sensei (I hope the two of you are happy; look what you have me doing!), suggested seriously that I talk to the Dean about being a writing tutor, and Tom says that that's a paid position. That would be handy...

*sigh*

I'm going to anyway though.

Wow, it turned autumn in like, three days! I love it! (Although, I'd have liked a little more transition between 60 degree nights and 20 degree nights; that's a little bit too much, too fast.)

I'm feeling exhasperated with my life again. This grocery store crap is not my slice of the pie. I really wish I could find something more fulfilling.

On a completely unrelated note-- heh, heh...heheheh... --I felt crafty last night and started my first project (despite the fact that I have never used a pattern or a sewing machine before). My Anderson plushie has arms, gloves (yep, with the writing), and eyes. He is definately being made with more enthusiasm and love than skill, but that's OK.
Tom thinks I've taken a short dive off a long platform.
Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions on how in the hell to do plushie stubble, please feel free to share, 'cause I'm stumped.

Damn, I want to write more, but I need to catch my freakin' bus.

Oh, and I got my first paper back. The writing on it is just as completely illegible as Michele Small's. Grr... I can only make out two-thirds of each comment.

Man, I think my boss is either peeved about having to rearrange things last week so that I could go to Ashland or something. I don't get a single day off until next Thursday-- that's a week straight with no days off at all. And all my shifts are seven and a half to eight hours long. :(

Fuckin' sucky, ne?

My matriculation interview (to become a full time student) is Monday evening, right after work, so at least that'll be out of the way.

Geez...I don't want to want to go to work. My job isn't hard, it's just soul-suckingly boring, repeatative, and I have to be on my feet the whole time.
And I come home to Tom.
(And, at this point, Paul Tillich)

Blah.

( More bizarre and interesting fanart from Solid and Etc. )

So, I lost my job with Citizen Action because I didn't make quota.

However, Rainbow called me back. I have a job (provided that I don't have any lingering THC in my piss) making doughnuts full time. Yay for me.

Tom's way happier about it than I am, which is kind of sad, but understandable. I was Ok with having to do more searching at this point. I'd given up on a quick-fix, but here one is anyway.

Faboo.
Wish me luck, y'all.