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?

Firefly

"I don't get it," she confessed, as she got out of the shower.

"Get what?"

"You said you hated your job. Why would you go further into the profession?" She had the cutest wrinkle in
her brow as she climbed into bed.

"I like the fat pay check."

"But every time I ask you about work you just scowl and bitch about how much you hate your customers!
And since when did you care about money so much?"

I chuckled to myself. "I haven't complained about work in months. Not since we were official- or not since the first month, at least." I shifted to my side to face her. "Remember when we ran away for Christmas?"

She slid a hand behind my head and grabbed a fistful of hair and gave me a kiss. "How could I not? Best. Three nights. Evuhrr... you could have gotten a motel instead though... "

"Yeah, but their beds wouldn't have been as nice, though," I said as I dived in for a kiss.

"Touché....but what about our little escapade?"

My iPod started playing this song:


"Oh... I love this song..." she started humming along.

"Yeah... it's a good song to dance to. Wanna have a go?"

"Honey.. its fucking three o'clock in the morning... and besides, I'm too worn out for that."

"Haha yeah.. come to think of it, I don't feel like getting out of bed for the next....while- I'm probably going to be really sore at work tomorrow..."

Her face brightened as she came up with an idea. "Well... we could at least cuddle and pretend like we're dancing, can't we?" She slid both her arms around my neck as I draped mine across her waist.

Side note: I remember being amazed at that time how a girl's waist could fit so perfectly around a guy's arm... it was like God made women's torso's for the sole intention of having a man's arm wrapped around it- or maybe God made arms to be wrapped around waists....ANYWAYS....

"You know... I wasted a good chunk of my savings account that weekend..."

"Yeah... I know," she said as she gave me a petty kiss on the cheek. "You maxed out your credit after paying for our room and buying me my jacket- which I still LOVE by the way..."

"So yeah... who cares if I don't like it? If it means I can spoil you whenever I want then so be it."

"What if I get too spoiled?"

"You have more sense than that. And besides, I still remember the look you had when I bought that jacket for you. I've never seen so much guilt and happiness plastered onto anyone's face at the same time like that."

Our faces had gotten so close together that I could feel the heat radiating from her as she blushed. "Dork!"

She punched my chest a few times. Silence. "I want to dance to this song at my wedding...."

"You'd be so beautiful my head would explode."

"Dork." Our foreheads touched and we moved in for another kiss. Kiss. Eskimo kiss. Kiss.

"You know... ever since we came home from Christmas...I've been thinking a lot...."

"Yeah?"

"Well.. it's not that bad, I guess. The money's good and I barely have to take any work home so I don't have to waste too much of my time stressing about it. I just have to put up with people's shit while I'm there."

"But you still have to put up with assholes."

"Yeah... but when I go home and I see your face, I can think to myself....'Worth it.'" Our eyes meet and we smile fondly at another.

"You're too good for me..." She says as she breaks the gaze and looks down.

"What are you talking about? You're the one that took me in." I squeeze her... I'm not sure if it was because I wanted to comfort her or to comfort myself. Maybe a little of both.

"You sure it wasn't the other way around?" she inquired.

"Well.. what's it matter? I think we've straightened out pretty well."

"You've straightened out. What am I supposed to do while you're gone? I can only take care of the house for so long y'know..."

"God I hope you're joking about the house work. I was thinking.. maybe like a part-time job?"

"Doing what? I refuse to be a bag girl or anything like that."

"You have a Bachelor's don't you?"

"Of course! But... I...just don't know..."

"Well... shoot. I'm sorry I made things so complicated for you. I just wanted to make things work out," I said as I brushed my thumb across her cheek.

"I know... I know..."she said as she clasped the hand that was on her face. "It's just... my parents..."

Uh oh.

"They pulled some strings.... and now I'm enrolled in some prestigious school in Korea..."

Silence.

"Well.. do you want to go?"

"Sort of... I'm not sure. But whenever you talk about going to pharmacy school... it makes me want kind of want to get my act together too y'know?"

"Hey... I am far from getting my act together... and besides, it's all thanks to you."

"Well... right back at'cha honey...."

We didn't say anything for a while. We didn't need to. Enjoying each other's warm was enough. But something kept nagging at me....

"So... when are you going to leave?"

She hesitated. "Soon...."

I squeezed her again, still not sure whom I was trying to comfort.

"Hey... you know it's hard for me to say this, but...." I choked.

"I know... 'saranghamnida'...." her tears burned my face, but I still accepted her lips. How could I not?

Memorial Day, 2010 "fucking three o'clock in the morning"

Amaretto Kisses

I never knew how difficult it was to to sit under the covers with someone. You would think that one would lay back and the other would just fall into place. That's usually the case- until blankets are involved. Then it becomes a sort of mish mash of tangled arms and legs. It took us a few minutes to untangle ourselves and to get comfortable, pushing and pulling each other while laughing at each other. She rested her temple on mine as we stared at the blank television screen, a pint of melting Haagen Dazs with two metal spoons sitting on the ottoman in front of us.

“Amaretto,” I said as I broke the silence whilst staring at the pint.

“Amaretto Almond Crunch. I didn't know you liked ice cream so much.” She laid her head back and smiled at me.

“Well... I like it because it reminds me of something.”

“Yeah? What's it remind you of?” she asked, staring at me with that kind of intense look that wouldn't go away unless I told her.

I smiled at her, trying to milk her curiosity as much as I could. I started to speak, stopped, and laughed. “You sure you wanna know?” She slapped my thigh and glared at me. I kissed her lightly on the lips and placed my forehead on hers. “You.”

“Oh?” the intensity in her eyes glowed brighter as she rubbed her nose against mine. “Tell me more...”

“The drunken you, when we first met,” I smile as I pulled away, trying to look nostalgic.

“Hehe, was I really that drunk? I don't recall. I just remember picking up some scrawny midget” She joked as she nudged my shoulder.

“Yeah? Well you know what I remember?” I say as I squeeze her.

“What?” she asked as she laid her chin on my shoulder.

“Amaretto. You wreaked of it." I look at her again and grinned. "You tasted of Amaretto.... with some Colgate Wisp...and a hint of tobacco. And your lips were super greasy. Because you wore too much lipstick. That's how I remember the first time we met.”

She chuckles as we squeeze each other. She gives me a quick peck on my cheek. “Well... I wasn't that drunk. Dork.”

What was your most memorable kiss like?

inspired by Mike Lee