Why do I do it?

I have this friend/coworker. For anonymity sake, let's call her big doe eyes. I'm very fond of those eyes. They remind me of my cat. (Just kidding.) Anyways- eyes, right. My favorite game to play when we're working together is to see how many times I can get her eyes to get all big from shock. My record is four, by the way, but I digress.

On one of our busy and stressful days (which seems to be almost every day now...) She looks at me with her big, beautiful brown eyes and she asks me "Are you sure you want to go all the way? How do I keep going? Why?" I don't know.... she just looked so fed up and so distressed- I mean.. I wish I could just.... squeeze her and hug everything away, y'know? But unfortunately.... life doesn't work that way. Or at least.... not enough.

I wish I could give her a straight answer something like "I do it for the money! Who gives a shit about these people? As long as I got my money, I'm happy!" And to a certain degree, that is true. I do do it for the money. I've realized early on that I do want to start a family- not any time soon, but someday. Someday. And times are tough now. So this kind of job helps. Maybe it's not the best, but it's reliable. Supposedly.

You know... as callous as this makes me sound, I have learned not to give a shit about a lot of peoples problems, but it's just part of the job description. People give me all sorts of sob stories. I put up with racists, drug addicts, rich people, ghetto people, retards, psycho's, hell, I even have a regular customer that buys syringes that brings in her crack-addicted baby every once in a while. And when I see that baby and I want to help that baby so bad, but the realization that I can't  makes me feel so powerless that I just want to cry. All of this while the management tells me to put on a fucking smile and say "Have a nice day! Oh yeah, and if you could just call this number and tell me how well I'm doing..." Fuck you retail. Just... fuck you.

If you just look at it simply then yes. It is about the money (and maybe a little of the status, but I'll talk about that later). I think... the misconception that people have (or at least young people) is that your job... defines who you are. But it doesn't! Not unless you let it. Yeah, there's a lot of shit that happens, but unless I fuck up royal, shit at work stays at work (unless you're like a manager or something... which I refuse to be). Once I leave those doors I am a free man. And I want to take advantage of that. Hey- I had chronic depression for a large chunk of my life. I'll be the first to admit that I can be a first-class narcissist, okay? When you have depression for that long you are a self-absorbed asshole, but if there's one thing that I've learned about being depressed for that long, it's that I should do everything within my power to stay happy.

As cheesy as this sounds, I'm finally at the stage in my life where I'm coming out of my shell, discovering who I am, what I like, what I don't. I'm rediscovering art, music, writing (even though I don't do it often) and someday, I want to get back to martial arts and fitness. The world is full of possibilities- and I want to keep this perspective! Of course I want to become a full-fledged adult, but I don't want to be one of those bitter people whom forget how to dream. Ever. There might be other jobs out there that give me the same benefits, but I feel that this would be the easiest for me since I already have my foot in. Is it worth the eight years of college, and me working my ass off everyday to get towards it? This is my tenth month averaging about four hours of sleep a day. In two weeks I'll finally have a month and half break and then I'll start the cycle all over again. I'll make it work. I don't have any reason not to.

But you know, probably the most important reason why I can deal with it is because I don't think it's going to be the end for me. I still have ideas on other things to do. Sure, the job I choose to do now is going to take up a large chunk of my life, but it's not too time consuming that I'm going to be married to my job, as well as fund my hobbies. Who knows, maybe I can make money off my art? If not that, maybe I can learn to invest in stuff so I don't have to work as much and enjoy. The main point, is that I don't feel boxed in and that I'm using it as a tool to open up other paths while being financially stable. I know this may not work for you, but it's my truth.

My second mom (another story for later) always tells me this: "The two most important things in life are a good wife (or partner) and a good job. A good wife to keep you company and to share your burdens and a good job to keep your wife off your back about paying the bills. (LOL)

 I want to be able to take care of the people who take care of me. Hell- I just want (to be able to) take care of the people I care about. And you know what? All I want is for you to just laugh and smile as much as you can. If it means cutting your hours, so be it. Be happy! This made me think about you when I read it and  I was gonna give it to you, too. But then I lost it. 'Cause I'm an idiot like that. I love you and your big doe eyes. Take care of yourself, okay?

Letting go

Just ignore the picture....

So a few weeks ago some asshole stole my laptop. I had all of my posts and ideas that I had stored so I could finally get this blog moving along but.. shit happens I guess. Anyways.

A little before my computer got stolen, I had finally made the conscious decision to finally let a precious friend/coworker go. I'm not sure when it started, but I had severe chronic depression. On top of that I went through various high school drama that separated me from my 'cliques', which only deepened my depression. I wish I could say that she was one of the people that led me out, but she wasn't. What she was, however, was someone that was there to help gain me gain confidence in myself that I wasn't as "off" as I thought I was. 

Fast forward to today . I still don't know what it was that caused the rift between us, but it's there. When I realized that we were never going to be as close as we used to be ever again,  the silence was.....deafening- not to mention painful. I try not to bother with her the few times we still see each other anymore. I had already gone through the five stages of grief. Maybe not in the same exact order, but I went through it. Hell, I'm pretty sure Anger and Denial cycled around a few times before I got to Acceptance. But I got there- eventually. When I finally did, the silence didn't hurt anymore.

I bought her a dozen cupcakes. She asked me why I bought them for her. I wanted to tell her it was a goodbye present. She would respond by saying "But I'm not leaving!" And then I would tell her "I meant as friends." But instead, I told her I just wanted her to know that I could never hate her. And it was true. I never can. But that doesn't mean I care about her anymore either. 

It's sad that these things happen. In a perfect world, everyone would get along and we'd all be friends. My father always tells me that you'd be lucky if you can have as many "real" friends as you can count on your hands. I'm starting to learn how true that statement is. 

But all in all, it's just another life lesson. The less time I spend worrying about her, the more energy I have putting into my other relationships- as well as budding new ones. I think that as long as I keep that in mind, I'll be able to find count one of those "real" friends with my fingers. I have to believe in that.