It’s pretty humbling how much situations can change in such a short period of time. Although it’s only been a month or so since I last posted, things have changed drastically. I have a new job which is like a breath of fresh air after being unemployed for a few months. I don’t hate it. It’s a step up from the soul-sucking data entry job I worked at for 2 weeks. I just need to make it through school. I graduate in less than 2 years and I have already begun dabbling in the employer connection website resources that help students find work. I am thinking of doing an internship (paid or unpaid, doesn’t matter at this point) just to get a portfolio going. This is my future and I want it to be bright.

More coming soon. I’ve also started a sister blog to this one that is darker and…scarier. It’s a blog that will be filled with horror movie reviews and scary stories written by yours truly.


Blank Document

My mind is blank, but it also feels like I have 100 different thoughts going through it at once.

I wrote a short story and all the people I asked to read it said it was great and they enjoyed it.

It scared my mom because it was an intense story about an abused woman, and she was worried that it was based on real life experiences. I told her it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. I have been treated like absolutely garbage by men but never abused physically.

I don’t think I am going to have people close to me read my stories or books I will write in the future. It really is like letting them into the darkest recesses of your mind. They can’t help but judge.

I haven’t been in the mood to write anything of substance lately, so I am just free-writing.

I am still not working at the moment and school starts in about a week. I have enough money to pay bills for the next 2 months, so I have to find a job at least in 2 months.

I wish I could find a good work from home job. I don’t want to answer phones, I’d like to do one of those chat customer service things.

I am going to watch Blue Planet and go to sleep.

Should I post my short story on here?

I’m having a hard time in this world.

I quit my job today.

I quit most of my jobs.

It’s become a reckless and impulsive habit I have developed. When I was younger it used to just be “whatever”. Now that I’m older it’s just becoming a hassle. I quit the job before last because my manager was a belittling jerk, constantly talking down to me, snapping at me and completely unappreciative of the hard work I put in. I never called in sick, never came in late, had great communication and customer service, and yet it was never good enough. She was toxic, the office was toxic (literally, the other girl I worked with had terrible breath) and so I left. I put my 2 weeks in and I left. I made it 1 year exactly. I’ve never felt better about leaving a job.

This most recent job I quit today was delivering packages for Amazon. I worked for a 3rd party delivery service provider. The company itself was good, my boss was good, the dispatchers were clueless but friendly. I enjoyed working with the other drivers. I work hard with any job I have, with this hard work came shitty routes. I was constantly put on extremely difficult routes, downtown, by the capitol building. The most difficult part about it was that we weren’t trained on a dedicated route like UPS or Fedex. We were just sent somewhere we’d never been and expected to maneuver a giant van around. It was frustrating and I told them this. The next day, SAME ROUTE. I held it together. Today, for the 3rd time, I was put on another shitty route.

Just to clear it up, if you work hard and are a good driver they give you extremely difficult and shitty routes because they have faith you can do them, but if you’re lazy and slow they put you on the easier routes. Makes sense….

So I called mid-route and told them I quit. They tried to convince me to stay, told me I could take my time, but I had had enough.

Once again, I am almost 30 years old without a job. It’s scary but also satisfying. I don’t have to worry about going back to work, dreading the stress and wondering which route I will be on the next day.

Now what?

I just can’t work the 9-5 Monday through Friday. I feel myself dying inside a little more each day. I don’t enjoy interacting with customers and dealing with people, I obviously don’t want to be a package delivery driver. I’d love to be my own boss, start my own company. Everyone else does too.

I guess I am stuck. Applying for pizza delivery jobs, driving for Doordash. It’s an uncomfortable feeling knowing there isn’t a steady stream of money going into your bank account each week. This job I had was perfect on paper. Three day work week, 4 days off. $15 an hour. But at a certain point, which I reached today, that just isn’t enough compensation for the stress.

I think I am going to try to write a book. A short one. About something I know a lot about. Then publish it on Amazon books or kindle or somewhere electronically. Let’s see how that goes.

What am I doing here?

And by “here” I mean in this world. In this time. Perhaps I was born in the wrong era. Although I am sure there were assholes even back in the 50’s. I don’t have a thick skin. For a long time I tried to convince myself that I did but the simple truth is that I don’t. I feel too damn much. I am overly empathetic. I let the world eat away at me. I climb into my bed at the end of the day feeling exhausted by human interaction. I bond with people who ultimately let me down. I attract narcissists of all shapes and sizes. I get along best with type A personalities even though in the end they leave me reeling with the frustrating realization that I will never be able to understand them. Or understand why it is people do the things they do at all. I can say that people act the way they do because of past trauma. That they’ve not come to terms with their life, they’ve not overcome the hardships life has thrown at them. I can say it’s because they haven’t accepted themselves for who they are, aren’t comfortable with themselves. Perhaps they lack the ability to self reflect. But that just makes me sad. All of these excuses I make for people who treat others like garbage don’t make me feel better. They just make me feel hollow.

What am I doing in this world?

The keyboard, the paper and pen, those are the things that keep me tethered to myself. Getting my thoughts out onto paper, or typing them out on a screen makes me feel like feeling these things is okay. The mind is a tricky place. It’s full of jumbled emotions and confusion. Everything spins around and around making the perfect storm of self doubt and questioning. I belong in a cabin somewhere. Somewhere beautiful and serene. Somewhere decently far from people, but close enough that I can get my monthly need for human interaction fulfilled at my desire. All I want is this cabin. I just need internet, a Netflix subscription and a laptop. Perhaps a type writer if I really want to get into it. I’d write, and write some more. I’d connect with myself. I feel connected to myself every day at the moment. But the world and it’s assholes seem to always be in the way for that self connection to stick. I need quiet. I need peace.

Or maybe I just need some damn whiskey.