"my eyes feel drunk. my stomach feels warm. but my body is fully functional."
"it's the tequila. you gotta be functional to take your clothes off."
I'll let you guess who said what. I'm currently drinking the non-alcoholic version of what made me say that earlier today- I came home from my newest employment endeavor (freepeople.com/wethefree) and went on a brief, albeit fantastic bike ride. Riding a bike just makes me feel so adventurous and happy. After said bike ride Yessi and I pounded some tequira drinks and I fell asleep. I woke up and ordered Papa John's. Five slices later I'm in a bed that doesn't smell of me, but of a boy I (barely) like and still call.
I'm dialing old numbers again. But not making old mistakes. I want to go on vacation. Burlington maybe? Camillus? Rochester? or save my moneys and worry about those student loans that are about to come-a-knocking.
Where the hell is my winter warmth? I was really trying to be preemptive about this and all I've got is this stupid coat and these boots.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Something I took from my LJ on Sunday. I miss everyone! <3
Sometimes I wonder where I thought I'd be by this time.
What I'd be doing.
Who I'd be with.
What I'd want to be doing.
Who I'd want to be with.
But here I am, on my couch in Brooklyn wrapped up in my technicolor comforter obviously from the mid-80s, watching Sunday movies on TNT, happy that I didn't get called into work-- yet slightly worrying about money.
Leaving my apartment an hour before I need to be at work every day, walking to the bus stop. Waiting. Getting on the usually over-crowded bus with its extremely audible passengers, trying to make sure my giant purse doesn't knock someone over every time the bus driver goes over a pothole. Stepping down the steps to the back of the bus, pushing the doors open to make sure they don't slam back in my face, and walking across the street to the DeKalb avenue station where I once again, wait.
Waiting for whichever train comes first. Will it be the B? I hope it's the B, because if it's the B not only is it express, but then I won't have to transfer, and I can get right off at Rockefeller center and walk the two blocks into work. The Q is also express, however does not stop at my work, and leaves me at 42nd street in Times Square- where I must either transfer again, and gamble waiting too long for another train, or walk 7 blocks of hell through the tourism capital of ... maybe the world, but definitely the country. For sure. Not the stress I want to put on myself before walking into one of the top ten most stressful jobs in the history of jobs. Serving.
For someone who gets nauseatingly bored ever so easily, I've found it to be the perfect side job. No day is ever the same, I'm constantly moving around and interacting around the clock, and I meet hundreds of people a day. I've also learned quite a bit about wine and sake, valuable and timeless knowledge.
As stressful as it can be sometimes, it sure beats boring. Fortunately, my place of work also happens to employ some of the wittiest and charming characters I have ever met, I feel lucky to have acquainted and acquired these fine people as friends.
My work is fun.
However, I can't wait to finish my Bachelor's from Brooklyn College in Radio and Television, and maybe someday really figure out what I want do to with my life.
Besides live every day like I already am-- happy and fulfilled.
What I'd be doing.
Who I'd be with.
What I'd want to be doing.
Who I'd want to be with.
But here I am, on my couch in Brooklyn wrapped up in my technicolor comforter obviously from the mid-80s, watching Sunday movies on TNT, happy that I didn't get called into work-- yet slightly worrying about money.
Leaving my apartment an hour before I need to be at work every day, walking to the bus stop. Waiting. Getting on the usually over-crowded bus with its extremely audible passengers, trying to make sure my giant purse doesn't knock someone over every time the bus driver goes over a pothole. Stepping down the steps to the back of the bus, pushing the doors open to make sure they don't slam back in my face, and walking across the street to the DeKalb avenue station where I once again, wait.
Waiting for whichever train comes first. Will it be the B? I hope it's the B, because if it's the B not only is it express, but then I won't have to transfer, and I can get right off at Rockefeller center and walk the two blocks into work. The Q is also express, however does not stop at my work, and leaves me at 42nd street in Times Square- where I must either transfer again, and gamble waiting too long for another train, or walk 7 blocks of hell through the tourism capital of ... maybe the world, but definitely the country. For sure. Not the stress I want to put on myself before walking into one of the top ten most stressful jobs in the history of jobs. Serving.
For someone who gets nauseatingly bored ever so easily, I've found it to be the perfect side job. No day is ever the same, I'm constantly moving around and interacting around the clock, and I meet hundreds of people a day. I've also learned quite a bit about wine and sake, valuable and timeless knowledge.
As stressful as it can be sometimes, it sure beats boring. Fortunately, my place of work also happens to employ some of the wittiest and charming characters I have ever met, I feel lucky to have acquainted and acquired these fine people as friends.
My work is fun.
However, I can't wait to finish my Bachelor's from Brooklyn College in Radio and Television, and maybe someday really figure out what I want do to with my life.
Besides live every day like I already am-- happy and fulfilled.
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