Category Archives: whining

To Stress or Not to Stress?

Life really does get in the way of blogging, at least when you are as deliciously lazy as I am. When blogworthy things are happening, I am far too busy to actually blog them. That would make entirely too much sense. 

I find myself currently in the midst of an existential crisis, most notably existential because I am not sure if it is even occurring, or if I am just being an insufferable ninny. Probably the latter. 

Everything is going swimmingly. I’m beyond happy at work, succeeding for the first time in a little while. My confidence is definitely back. I’m reminded that doing well in (reasonably) less than favorable circumstances is my specialty and that I can have full control of a kitchen without being unpleasant about it. 

It is an amazing confidence boost to find that people actually like working with me. Not all of them, mind you. I’m not that nice. 

I couldn’t be happier relationship wise. Current connections are strengthening and new ones are being built, and I continued to be surprised at almost every turn. I might turn out to be a fully formed person someday!

Maybe this existential crisis just needed to be written out of my system. I miss the rhythmic pounding of keys and of iambic meter, carefully measured and artfully disrupted. The sentences that aren’t really. The turns of phrase that are trite, but still leave a warm feeling in that center of my brain that is all too pleased with itself. 

Maybe it’s time to pause from the reading, put down the books, and start working on my own.


Too lazy.



As everyone else in my life, besides me, expected, I caved. 

I didn’t end up quitting my job.

Partially because I am a pushover; it’s part of my genetic makeup. People convince me of things all the time. On a minutely basis, even.

And partially because I have nothing to lose by waiting a few months. I have the opportunity to keep my secure job and start over in another location. I really ought to at least try. 

* * * *

Spent some time on the phone with my brother-in-law, who I am closer to than any of my brothers, and he could sense the abject sadness that I just can’t shake. I told him all about work and home and the moving, and he could tell that those were issues, but that it wasn’t what was really bothering me. Older brothers are awesome like that.

So, we talked about what was really bothering me, and while it didn’t help in the fixing it sense, it helped in the everything is going to be okay sense. 

I try not to have a lot of bitterness about the past and the circumstances of my childhood, but the one thing that just pisses me off is the stunted emotional growth that has resulted. I’ve been able to get past everything else by sheer will. This is a little harder to overcome. 

I shouldn’t be feeling this right now. I’m 26 years old. Time to be a big girl about life. 

And I try, and sometimes, I even put on a good show, but everybody is right. I am such a mess.

Taking Control

Justin has posited that it is actually my mood that is causing all of this rain. It hasn’t been sunny for days. I kind of like the rain, though. Curling up in a chair with a book, while the rain rhythmically falls, Nickel Creek in the background, and a cup of cocoa nearby sounds like quite the soul soother.

My soul is in need of a little soothing.

Work has been just crushing my soul. Wareham is just a spirit killer. It’s not surprising that it has gotten to me; it’s just surprising that it has been this quick.

Here’s the thing about me and work. I have all this fantastic operational knowledge–not perfect, mind you, but good. I know exactly how a shift is supposed to run, and all the little technical details that are supposed to improve efficiency and productivity, and ultimately lead to a well-run shift.

Most of the problems in the restaurant are of the top-down variety. If the head guy sucks at his job and allows things to go all willy-nilly, there really is precious little we subordiates can do, especially with the people whose bad behaviors are reinforced by said head guy. 

I don’t get bad results because I am a bad manager. Sometimes I make poor decisions which lead to poor results, and that is undoubtedly my responsibility. I get bad results because I work in a bad store and I am not good enough or strong enough to fix it. 

And it’s not my job to fix it, at least not on my own. I am a very capable member of the team. I have a lot to contribute. I can be part of a go get ’em, let’s fix things team, but only if that is the prevailing attitude of the whole team. 

To steal a turn of phrase, I’ve been whispering a prayer in the fury of the storm. And the prayer can have a positive effect, when I have enough faith that it can, but lately my lamp is completely devoid of oil, and I feel more like I am throwing desperate pleas to a compassionless master. 

It’s time to turn off the poisonous tapes. I don’t suck at life, or my job. I do have a job that sucks the life out of me, though, and it is time to change that. 

I deserve better.

That’s It

The decision is final. I’m just not very good at my job. I can’t continue to have days like this and be okay with it.

I just can’t. So much for development.

I am sooooo angry, I can’t even write about how I had to physically get in the middle of a fight, in the middle of my busy f’n lunch time, and how the police came and how I had so few people to run the floor with that I actually had to lock the dining room.


And screw my homework, too. I don’t care about the stupid degree, that even if I get, I’ll never use.




Stream of Conscience

The pity party is officially over. It has been just a little ridiculous. I got into this headspace where I convinced myself that my life sucks and I’ll never be loved and I’ll never be anything.

The real fact of the matter is that my life does not suck, I’ll be somebody someday, and maybe someday, some stupid, foolish boy might fall for my irresistable charms.

And I won’t blame him. Average looking witty girls need lovers, too.

First day of class was yesterday, and the verdict is that math classes should not be that long. I tried my best to pay attention the whole time, but I am almost phyiscally incapable of staying on one topic that long, especially without a break of any sort.

Though I feel completely above College Algebra, I have decided that since I am spending $700 on this course, and I have no choice in taking it, I might as well embrace it as a learning experience. Surely, I don’t know everything about Algebra.

I still don’t feel like a student, though. I am 100% entrenched in a work mindset.

Work is looking up these days. The atmosphere has changed in a positive direction, helped in no small part by the 40% drop in business that comes after Labor Day.

The social life is… busy, but not in the satisfying way I’d like. I am getting and taking offers that I frankly do not want. And I don’t say no, because, well, I only say no when I am feeling cheeky and looking to get something in return for my brattiness.

I mean, it is not all bad socially. I have a small group of friends, including some new additions, that are worth spending my time with, because they are worth my time. I’m forgiving Justin for not forgiving my oversleeping today, but for the most part, I am not dealing with people who are too needy, or rude, or just annoy me.

The quarter-life crisis, and stirring in my soul, is quite over.

I prefer the big girl scene to the little girl one any day. Time to put on those big girl panties.

And maybe some knee socks.


It’s a funny thing, trying to keep onesself blogging out of sheer will.

I mostly fail, but I am going with the idea that if it becomes a habit, I will continue without fail.

I tend to psych myself out, because I know that this blog used to be enjoyable for some of you to read; that I have at times beeen insightful, funny, or moving. And in my mind, that all falls squarely in the past. I am convinced that it was some fluke brought on accidentally, and now that I am trying to live up to those expectations, I will fail.


Because that’s what I do. I fail. I start with a mountain of potential and end in epic fail. The only thing I don’t fail at is failing.

Oh, the self-pity is rather piteous, isn’t it?

Boo hoo hoo.