At Work

Working the night shift isn't so bad, even on the weekends. Well, provided you don't really want to have a social life. If you like being left alone, it's pretty good for that.

Take me at this moment. I am sitting around, waiting for the breakfast lady to make an appearance in about thirty minutes. I stay for another hour and a half after that. Outside of actual work, one of my main causes of frustration has been the fact SecondLife keeps crashing on me all night. That, and I have got to pee. I don't want to go pee, though, not until Janessa comes. I know it is completely ridiculous, but I have got this horrible paranoia when I am in that bathroom: I keep watching the light under the door for shoes, or shadows of legs.

Freaking myself out right now as I type it!

It is silly, and I know this. It is something straight out of a 50s horror movie or old comic books. Still, you know... just in case.

If Wishes Were Horses...

... I would have a horse and could gallop on over to Kansas City, MO, on my birthday to see Gogol Bordello. As I don't hear any neighing, I might have to pass on this. Though I really want to see them again, I can wait. I think they are playing down in Texas in the fall, and that's just an Amtrak ride away. (Plus I have friends in Texas.)

It is drippy, sticky hot here. So not used to this type of weather anymore! Sleep comes in small doses, and there's lots of water to be drunk. It's hard to believe I was freezing cold only a few months ago.

At any rate, I need to finish getting ready for work. Yahoo for the graveyard shift, right?

Surviving

I haven't mentioned it yet, but my last day of work was March 16. I have been looking, though. When people say "there's nothing out there", it's not quite true; there's a lot of work open, but most of it seems to be $12.00 an hour and lower. Can I survive on that? Yes... Unemployment is giving me a whopping $8.82 an hour when you break it down. But this is just surviving.

I have done plenty of surviving in my life. There was not much money while I was growing up. Mom and Dad did the best they could, giving things up to make sure my sister and I got a good education. I appreciate it more now that I can see it from a adult standpoint. I worked my ass off in bars, supporting the boyfriend at the time... and the money really didn't go too far. There was an apartment fire one December, and it wasn't until mid-April I had a place to live again. Working for just enough to pay the rent and juggle between bills for years. Knowing how to use an orange extension cord when the electricity is shut off. Knowing how long it will take to fill the bathtub when the water needs to be heated in the microwave because the gas has been turned off until payment is made. Sleeping in the back booth at Denny's under the 405 Freeway because no buses run that late at night so I can get home, and the money to fix the car just wasn't there. (That lasted over a year.)

I've done my share of surviving, I think. And I really don't want to go back to any of that. I just won't... I can't. Those years of just holding my breath, putting blinders on my eyes like a racehorse, and forcing myself to plow through all the bad stuff, all the garbage and waste and road blocks just to get to a little brighter area, a little higher ground. That type of struggle for such a long time just wears people out.

I found the higher ground, and was happy. I'm really still here, even though instead of being safely inside the house, I am out on the rocks now which shore up the ground to help prevent a landslide. I keep looking up at the sky, biting my lip in consternation, hoping only to see puffy clouds and no rain. There have been a few showers (such as having a job offer rescinded last Friday), but I am still here... as I squat down and make a few raps on the roots of a large tree, knocking on wood.

At least I do know where I've been, if not where I am going.