My Sunny Feeling was Taken Away

     I broke a boy’s heart today. He handed it to me and I neatly snapped it in two and gave it back to him. It was not because of any real issue; if pressed, the only things truly wrong with him that I could think of were possibly that his hair was too nice, and his jeans a little tight. All his intentions were well meant, all his words thought out – and yet there was something that never quite fit between us, some cosmic reason that my gut kept answering his advances with a firm and resounding “NO,” and made me feel as queasy as the last time I had Chicken Nuggets at McDonald’s. I am not a stranger to the deactivation of a male’s heart. The disappointment is, in truth, all I know. It is not shocking that I once again had to have the, “It’s not you, it’s me” talk. What would be shocking is to one day actually reciprocate the feelings of a member of the opposite sex. I would love to meet someone where I finally feel like it makes sense - as if life is better with them there and like my world would never be the same again without them in it. At this point I cannot say in confidence that I believe that exists out there in the vast abyss for me; but a girl can dream, can’t she?

Ultimatums

                What is the final straw that will break your camel’s back? Do you know what your limits are? I know this sounds as if I am about to jump straight into a heated rant, but in reality this is just something that has been rolling around in my mind this week – ultimatums. What started this conversation (with myself – have I mentioned I talk to myself?) was trying to explain to my six year old brother why I could not just skip work to ride bikes with him, even if I wanted to. I told him that I would get fired, and then had to proceed to explain to him what that meant. The next day I woke up to the raised voices of my parents, and a few minutes later my brother was in my room;

      “What happened, buddy?”

      “Oh, well, I spilled chocolate milk on the computer. Mom  and Dad are mad at me,” there was a slight pause of consideration on his part, and then this revelation as his eyes widened,“I think I just got fired!”. 

       As I tried to control my laughter, I reassured him that you cannot get fired from family and that Mom and Dad had probably already forgiven him. However, his reaction to spilling chocolate milk was the thing that started this conversation in my mind. Everything and everyone has a different point of no return, and it is avoiding these tipping points that leads to a potentially more peaceful life. I try to be a person who has a high tolerance for many things, but I have been known to lose it a time or two. I actually had a mild case of reaching my point of no return  about a week ago at my waitressing job-  just an issue of a perpetually disgruntled co-worker being unnecessarily disrespectful to me. As the night progressed, I thought to myself,  “If he says one more thing to me, I am going to let him have it." Say something, he did, and give him what for, I did. Even though my co-worker did not even pretend to be apologetic that night for being a complete tool, ever since he has been much better behaved, and on top of that all the other grouch-inclined people there have decided I am someone worth being at least a little nice to. 

      So limits are generally good. Ultimatums have their purpose. It is nice to know that I will never be fired by Mom and Dad, but it can be appropriate to give those people who act as thorns in your side a little fire from time to time.  I could delve a little more deeply into this topic, but alas I have another night of work to get to, even though I would rather be riding bikes.

Free Thinker

            My life is a constant democracy of the people most important in my life, and their take on the daily dilemmas that I face. This only became apparent to me this week when something shocking (for me) happened between a boy interest and myself, and immediately after I was on Skype with two of my trusted friends unpacking the riveting details to their patient ears. Throughout the rest of this week I have gone from confidant to comrade to conspirator in order to determine what path I should indeed follow, and only now am realizing how ridiculous that whole process is for such a trivial event. What this extensive procedure reminds me is that at the root of it all, I am a people pleaser. I care greatly what will be thought of my decisions and if the general public will approve and vote me in for another term as “Valuable Human Being”. What I am trying to figure out now is when this democracy turns from being a healthy collection of insight and intellect, to me not taking control of my own life and instead living by autopilot as directed by the desire of the people.  Perhaps in this case there is an argument for dictatorship when it applies to being the sole ruler of your own life, and that is something I need to work on more. I try to be a person who follows their dreams and does what they believe is right no matter what the consequences. What bothers me in these situations is that I do not have much more to go on than what I am feeling in the root of who I am. But what if that deep “root” feeling is tragically misconstrued? Really, though, when it comes down to it that is all we have – that gut feeling of whether something is harmful or beneficial; meant to be, or not. Whatever decisions I make, I am the one who has to live with them and no one else. I guess now would be a good time to start taking command of it.

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.