Friday was a last day in a very comfortable place in my life. It was my last day working at the USU Bookstore. I was fine most of the day. Most of the day passed as a normal day, and then at about 4:30, when I started going through all of the steps for the last time, as I hurried around doing last minute errands, my throat got real tight. Then I started thinking about Hannah and Ash, who have been two people huge to my life, and the tight throat problem started to make my eyes watery. Stuart got me my very own bag of chocolate animal crackers, and that just about started a water works on its own.
I am not going to miss that [bad word] job, but I am going to sorely miss the people.
And...I already miss the time in my life that job represents to me. Prism, ratex. Book-it, FedEx, telephone headsets, announcements, dumb customers, [specific dumb customer], Drake, sicky break room, headless mannequins...these things represent the free, single, college life that I so thoroughly enjoyed. All of the aspects of that life started to slowly change one by one, but that bookstore was ever painfully the same.
Now that is gone, and I realize that my life has completely shifted positions, kind of like plate tectonics, minus the earthquakes, without me taking notice.
My name may as well be Oxyano, or malymoron, or neither of those. Those are bad names.
I love to write, but have a hard time finding words. They hide from me. In meanly difficult places to find. The pages stay blank.
I wish to never grow up and be responsible, yet I keep willingly increasing my speed toward grown up things like a career, and paying loans, and having babies (not an announcement), and buying that perfect house that will accommodate all of my interior design plans that I've found on pinterest.
I currently work at a job where I sit, and sit and sitsitsitsit. There is very little physical or mental exertion required of me, yet when I get home at the end of the day I am just too tired to cook or exercise, or journal, or blog, or do that list of things that has been undone for a month. Doing nothing all day is H-A-R-D.
When my hair is long I want it short, when my hair is short I want it long. At least I am a normal woman in that regard.
I secretly long to be recognized for my vocal skills, but refuse almost every offer or opportunity to showcase myself. They might not think I am as good as I think I am. Maybe that agent looking for the next best artist will desperately need to use the bathroom while driving through Corinne, Ut, happen upon my parents house because they always go off the main road looking for bathrooms in residential areas, come at 6:30 in the morning when I have my daily concert for the shower head and hundreds of empty shampoo bottles (who doesn't have to pee in the morning right?), place their ear to the door and find me. I'm crossing my fingers.
I will enlighten you of the other traits my dear mum, maly and dad, moron have given me as I trip over them as I walk over that completely flat surface.