A Song in my Head

My Friend John

                I had an epiphany today. It occurred to me as I was once again working in a new school where I did not know a soul (subbing again), and I was headed into their lunchroom of co-workers, old pals, and hidden flames unsure of where to sit and what to say. The epiphany occurred the second I left that overwhelming room of people I didn’t know, and slipped into a nearby washroom. I instantly felt relieved (no pun intended). I wished I could stay there all lunch hour in my own quiet solitude, but the few short minutes I could stay would have to suffice.

                When that feeling of safety came back while in the washroom today, I thought about what would have been the first time that this place of function versus comfort became a sort of haven for me. I think it must have been in my first year of High School, and subsequently the time of my first real feelings of insecurity. I had been homeschooled for my entire elementary school career, and for one reason or another in Grade 9 my family decided to put all of us kids back into the public school system. Thus I was thrust into the great wilderness that is High School completely unawares, and more importantly, completely alone. The story ended happily. I made some incredible friends, and found my own scholarly niche amongst the masses. However, during that first year, many of my lunch hours were spent in the furthest stall in the most remote bathroom of the school. It was the perfect set up, because every other person who came to the washroom also left within five minutes, so none of those people knew that I had been sitting in there – fully clothed, I may add – for the past twenty minutes eating (yes, eating) my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and avoiding the intimidating groups of chummy people who knew where and who their place was with.

                Spending my lunch hours in that bathroom stall was definitely a low in my social career. After a few weeks, I discovered the library - the only other place in the school where you can be alone and no one second guesses why. This second discovery was probably a huge part of the reason that I did win the highest overall average of the year for my grade every year in High School.  It was enough for me in grade nine to be seen as “that really smart girl”, as long as I wasn’t “that really smart girl who has no friends”. 

                Perhaps what I am trying to say is that those insecurities from our past travel with us to our present. They make us who we are in a sense, but it is how we overcome these insecurities that defines our character. I do not think it is wrong to keep a security blanket around for the odd bout of insecurity (even if this security blanket happens to be a tiny four walled chamber of necessity), but sometimes, like today, we need to act the grown up that we now are and create a new name for ourselves; and maybe this time I will be classified under a stereotype that is more diverse than “that really smart girl”.

Common Courtesy

                Sometimes it just plain sucks to be the only optimist in the crowd; someone is always bringing you down. Tonight was the worst of the worst for me while working at my waitressing job. The amazing part was that it was not even my customers; it was the people who I work with who had the deplorable people skills – despite their current occupation in the service industry.

 I just ranted this same rant to a good friend of mine, her thoughts being, “Well, wouldn’t you be in a perpetually bad mood too if you knew that this job was your entire future??”.  I suppose I would be, but I still think that it is hardly an excuse.  Whatever happened to common courtesy? When did manners fly by the wayside? Is empathy dead? Oh, I would like to think not.  I could not count how many times I heard as a child, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” to me it has always been just a part of my social code of conduct.

Perhaps this universal grumpiness does have more to it than just the surface lack of manners. Maybe my friend was right when she pin-pointed what she foresaw as their bleak future as the source of their unhappiness. I may take it for granted that I have the luxury of considering these jobs as a gateway to THE dream job. I work all these odd and unusual occupations so that one day, I never have to work them again – sort of ironic, isn’t it? If you are reading this, what are your thoughts? Have you found that ONE dream job? Or is it a never ending search for happiness which must be fulfilled elsewhere?

  And – is common courtesy really dead??

Workaholic

     This is not going to be a very well constructed post, but I have good intentions of making up for it later this week. Since I moved back home from the Big City a couple weeks ago, I have been working steady with the two jobs I speedily acquired that first week. During the day I have been subbing as an Educational Assistant at local schools belonging to the Public School Division, and in the evening I have been serving as a waitress at a local restaurant. It has been a relatively intense schedule working from 9:00 am to 3:30pm, and then 4:30 pm to at least 9:00pm; but it is what I signed up for and ultimately wanted, so nothing to complain about. What is great is that I actually mostly enjoy both my jobs, so that is an added bonus, I just do not enjoy not being able to sleep in or my limited amount of recreational time.
     With these jobs, and as much as I enjoy that invigorating feeling of independence I get from making it on my own, I still wish I was lucky enough to have a rich uncle, or something of the sort. How glorious it would be to not have to worry about money. Somehow I doubt that I will ever really know what that feels like, though. Hm.
     I will leave you with some words to live by from one of my favorite songs, "Oh My" by Sweatshop Union, "I make money; money don't make me," - my current mantra.

The Snow White Syndrome

              For at least the past couple years, I have been suffering from what I would like to be known as the “Snow White Syndrome.”   Allow me to elaborate -  although not yet studied in full, the “Snow White Syndrome” is most common in tall females, and  has the overwhelming symptom of the female in question developing a deep fondness for men of a smaller stature. However, the dilemma festers in the nature of this fondness. Although at first it can be confusing to separate the feelings of potential amour from those of natural camaraderie, no matter how hard I try with these littlest of men, the camaraderie feeling in my heart undoubtedly wins. At first I thought that this must mean that I was simply fickle; but then I had an epiphany - Snow White was never judged for keeping seven petite men around just for kicks, so why should my fickle actions be viewed any differently? To me the concept of having seven small men following me around, commenting on my daily life, and adding words of wisdom, suggestions in music and movies, as well as perhaps throwing in a humorous joke or two is nothing short of a lovely idea. Not only would these seven miniature fellows be excellent daily companions, but according to the classic story they would also aid in ultimately uniting me with my Prince Charming! How wonderful!

                What strikes me the most from this fairytale is the Dwarfs’ attitude. Somehow they instinctively knew that they were just to be friends with the fair Snow White, and nothing more. Unfortunately, in real life real emotions are not nearly so convenient. I have injured many a small man’s heart, mostly out of my own naivety, but that’s hardly an excuse.  If only I knew the secret to Snow White not breaking all seven of the large hearts of those tiny men while still running off with her Prince Charming - but I guess that is the power of make believe after all.

Hey - it's OK!

                I have decided that there are at least three days out of the month that I cannot trust myself.  I have never thought that I was a typically hormonal female, but there is something that triggers in my body…right about now… that is yelling, nay, hysterically screaming at everything within me to take some serious action in regards to my happily ever after. I am currently restraining myself from texting every past crush, romantic idea, or flirtatious pastime in my repertoire (I am going to make the list sound longer , and more elaborate, than it is for my own self esteem) and am also studiously avoiding my owned copy of Sleepless in Seattle as my evening companion; since I do not need to be dreaming of Tom Hanks at a time like this. 

 I have not totally succeeded in avoiding all the hormonally fueled ideas that have popped into my head as of late. Five minutes ago I arranged a coffee meet up (not a date, I swear) with a “past crush” for later this week. I just hope it seems like just as good of an idea then as it does now (doubtful, I know). 

I don’t know what it is between me and the boys that have crossed my path so far and why we don’t click. I have recently come upon the more radical idea that I have come to terms with the potential fact that I may never meet that someone, and may very well end up living the majority of my life alone. The radical part about this idea is that I am really OK with this, and most days it is not depressing in the least. Most days except for days like today when I can’t trust myself. So screw it, I’ll go to coffee. I might even take Tom Hanks for another spin if my fickle heart has its way.  I’ll worry about being OK next week.