Beware…

I cut myself in the shower this morning shaving my legs. It’s a huge gash on the back of my ankle that I finally gave up and tracked down a band aid for because it would not stop bleeding. I was running late this morning, unwilling to move from my cozy covers to the cold 60 degree house surrounding me. Why was I even shaving? Habit I guess, I just tend to do it and I was too sleepy or too rushed to pay attention and not scar myself. I mean, my goodness, I seriously haven’t cut myself this badly since Scary Spice was skinny the first time.

I have guilt, I sucks, but I have it. Guilt over loads of stuff, but specifically over a job interview I had last night. I’ve been on a mission, ok more of a roaming search for a 2nd job. Something part time that I could make a little money, have a little fun, and maybe make a small dent in my pile of debt. So, I had this interview with the local movie theatre. The interview lasted all of 10 minutes. I talked to a lady on the phone the day before, she sounding very encouraging. I had to work at least 3 nights, two of the weekend nights, and I could make arrangements to have the same day off on the weekends. Great, perfect, works for me, the only draw back is getting of work at 1am and going to work early in the morning. I need my sleep. I know people say they need sleep, but I really do. Just ask Ms. H. You should see the email exchanges when I don’t get enough sleep or have a night full of nightmares and don’t feel like I have slept. Example email exchange:

Me: I need coffee, I’m dying.
Ms. H: Yeah, coffee rocks. I’m having fun selling condoms today.
Me: Argh, these lights are killing my eyes.
Ms. H: Sorry, maybe you should take an Advil.
Me: Argh, I’m going to fall asleep on my keyboard—help.
Ms. H: You should do a workout, you would feel better, have energy.
Me: Your are right, but I’m lazy and just want to be a complainy pants.
Ms. H: I know but love ya anyway.

Ah, that Ms. H, she tries to be a good influence on me, but I just resist all good influences and run toward the bad ones. Anyway, back to the interview. I go to this interview. I’m even nervous; I always get nervous before events I know are coming up. I feel like I’m going to puke, I get very warm, and start to think of all possibilities of things going wrong. Now give me an emergency and I’m on it. I don’t have time to think. I react, get whatever needs done done and then hours after the emergency I have a breakdown. I guess that’s beside the point for this little rant.

I’m answering her silly little questions about would you steal, how would you handle this, blah, blah, blah. I ask about having a set schedule. She says, nope, you get your schedule on Wednesday’s for Thursday-Wednesday each week and we work you when we need you. Ok, well what are the typical hours? She says, you must start at 6pm. I can do that, no problem. She says, some nights you will be here till 12am, sometimes, 1am, Fridays, Saturdays, and most Thursdays you will be here until 3pm. WHAT! I need sleep, didn’t I just discuss how that was really important.

So, I leave the interview and stress. Ok, so they didn’t offer me a job, they may not, but what if they do. Can I do it, can I work those hours, not knowing from week to week what my hours are going to be? I don’t think so, I mean, yes, I would like some extra money, my credit card people don’t want me to, but I do. However, I don’t want to start hating my first job and if I don’t have a set schedule, how can I ever plan to have dinner with the marrieds, coffee with Ms. H, or Alison time. Alison time is needed, I may need more than many need their alone time. I get burnt out if I’m surrounded by people all the time. I need to for me, to stress about all the stuff I’m not doing or not accomplishing, that I haven’t started my PHD, but do I want a PHD, do I want to do all that work. If I don’t does that make me a bad person? What is my next career move going to be? If I don’t know, then how am I going to advance, how am I ever going to get to the point where I don’t need to think about getting a 2nd job. Do I need the PHD to get a career move? What am I going to have for dinner? Good grief my brain never shuts off—if I didn’t have that Alison time, then my head might actually explode. So I decided, guilt laced, that I was not going to take the job if offered it. I’ll turn my heat down to 55 and eat plain rice for weeks if I have to, I can’t give up certain things in my life right now. Sleep and Alison Time are two very high priorities for me.

I did decide if people come visit me, I’ll turn the heat up for them, so now I need guests, a real reason for heat. Kidding. I do love guests, but I’m not going to freeze myself. I’m making it just fine. I’m just not paying down my debt, but everyone has debt right? I will still work on the plan to find a job, but not stress about it. I know what I’m looking for is rare, but I do believe there is a job that I can work a couple of nights a week and have a set schedule of when I’m going to work. In the mean time, I’ll keep on working the plan of marrying rich. If I have debt, it will not matter, he can pay it off. Right?

Also, if I have this debt, why in the world am I thinking about buying a computer? People have told me it’s a fairly good buy and I could use it to jump start my photography business plan. If you know any seniors graduating this year, send them my way. But again, is this a smart idea? I want a laptop, I want to be mobile. I can go to a coffee shop and use their internet for free and not add a $40 bill to my life every month. Oh well, more stuff for my brain to stress about.

Today, I feel like my favorite poem. Sick, from “Where the Sidewalk Ends”.

Sick

by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,
"Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"


Borrowed from this link…http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16480

I love google, you can find anything. So today, I feel like the poem, only it’s not Saturday—why not? It’s only Thursday, but it’s a long weekend, so I’m trying to think positive and trying to keep this in mind, all the while trying to keep my mind somewhat quiet, full of less guilt and less stress.

Wow! That’s a lot, sorry; I guess you can’t control how long rants are, can you. But, hey, I warned you in the title. Ok, gotta go back to work, crap!