Thursday, July 6, 2000

There's nothing much concrete to report right now...  I have been grumpy and moody lately.  My best friend Norah was here over the weekend and we rented lots of movie and ate ambrosia salad.  However, now my four-day weekend is over and I'm back at my stupid job that isn't paying the bills.  I followed up on that one job lead a few days ago and I'm still waiting for an email... the other thing, I need to call them, hopefully tomorrow.  I should be working on my resume instead of writing to you all in my journal.

I was cursing myself on the way home today for being such a pussy.  I mean, I'm always bitching and moaning about not having a boyfriend, being socially awkward, not having enough money... blah blah blah.  I'm trying so hard to kick myself in the ass and be confident and go out there and get the things I want.  Still, I have trouble.  And I'm very hard on myself-- did I mention that already?  That's typical of me: to yell at myself for feeling sorry for myself, and end up as someone who feels sorry about the fact that he feels sorry for himself.  Whee!

Then when I got off the bus, I found this weird "INFESTATION WARNING" handbill with a picture of a cockroach on the ground.  On the reverse side, it says "¡ADVERTENCIA DE CONTAGIO!"  I picked up about five of them on my way home-- some of them were stuck under people's windshield wipers.  I kind of wonder if the building next door is about to explode, spraying giant cockroaches all over everybody.

I stumbled into work today with a massive hangover, on only four hours' sleep.  Sarah came over last night and we got drunk on my porch before heading over to the bar.  Sarah's an old drinking buddy of mine.  I started moaning to her about my money situation and she kept asking me why I don't wait tables or something.  She said, "listen, it's summer, and I just want to have fun.  And all I know is if you wait tables, you can walk out of there every night with like $200."

Woah, fun.  I don't think fun's ever really been on my list of priorities.  For some reason I kind of grew up with this weird guilt thing centered around enjoying myself too much.  What a freak I am!  See, this is what I mean about being a pussy.  I should just relax.  Really.

Then today I spent the morning reorganizing K 29 through K 27 on level 2.  Yeah, for real-- this is what I do at work.  When I'm not putting books away, I move them around.  For some reason I found this really calming.  I wish I could pull myself together as easily.