Work Is RUINING My Life!!!!!

So I have decided that my job is ruining my life. (Other than the psychological and emotional distress I experience every day of my life.)

There's this guy that I danced for once or twice a week for about six months. Really nice guy, sometimes brought his wife in. Anyways I haven't seen him in about two months cause I hate working Tuesdays. He was a fix-it-guy for a college half an hour from my school. Well turns out he got a new job... He is now one of the campus fix-it-guys at MY college. All the fix-it-guys have lunch with the students! Yay... I see him everyday at lunch. Gee my life's awesome. Not to mention I see him twice a week at the library and because I work at the circ desk right in front of the door and part of my job is saying 'hello' to everyone I have to be nice and greet him. 

Last weekend I went to the midnight premiere of Taken 2 (which is awesome by the way... it's not possible for Liam Neeson to be in a bad movie). I went with two of my friends and we had a good time. Except for the fact that at the theater a guy I know from work was there, who has a crush on me and wanted to ask me to prom six months ago... yes, he just graduated from high school. Instead of doing the smile-nod thing you do to people you know but don't want to talk to he walks right up to me and my friends and starts in on a very awkward 15 minute conversation... I could not get away from him. I would try and he'd follow. 

Oh my God!!! Work is ruining my life. It follows me everywhere. No escaping it. I have worked there too long if I am constantly running into people I know and they feel that they know me well enough to come and talk to me... And my friends!!!! 

FUCK.

In Relation to Yesterday's Post

So yesterday I was complaining about my uterus causing me pain... Guess what!!! It hasn't stopped. No in fact it has gotten worse. I'm still thinking about ripping my uturus out, but now I have expanded that to include my ovaries as well. Two internal organs that are completely useless.

When I tell people this they always say something to the effect of "You won't regret it when you hold your babies in your arms for the first time." (Please include a very soft, feminine, nurturing voice. Something akin to... nothing like mine.) My response is always "I'm sure. If I wanted children."

When I've looked forward to my life it's never included children surrounding me in the picture. I love children sure, but do I want them. Not really. I love babysitting them, playing with them, and then handing them off to their parents. To me kids say a lot of work, time, effort, and selflessness. I sound like a terrible person when I say 'I am all about me.' But I am. I have never had the desire to live my life for someone else, and the moment you become a parent that is exactly what you (should) do. I have things that I want to do and accomplish and children get in the way and hinder me from doing that. People always say 'You'll change your mind when you get older.' People have always said that to me, and so far it hasn't happened. People tend to think that because I'm a woman I innately want children. Wrong. My friends think it's because I don't want to ruin my body by being pregnant. Wrong. I think that would be the cool part about being a mom, the rest not cool. My friends tell me 'don't worry you can adopt'... Except for the fact that it will still have the same ending. Me with children.

To make matters worse my whole life is filled with people that want nothing more than to be parents. All my good friends want children. I have a hard time understanding why. On an intellectual level I get. Emotionally, no way.

To make matters worse Jamie wants kids. That stereotype that girls are the ones that want kids and girls have to talk guys into wanting them.Total crap. Every guy I've ever dated wants to be a dad. I don't get it! But because I want to keep Jamie in my life forever I am going to have children. My theory is that I will love them once I have them. But up until that point they seem like a waste of time to me.

I think that borders on heartless, but true.

I still want to rip out all my girly parts.

Work.Period.Pain.Gross

Here's my latest problem. I haven't worked in over a month because I hate my job.

The longer you stay away from the club the harder it is to go back. I've been putting it off for a month. I need to go in because rent has to be paid today. Well the check won't be cashed until tomorrow or Saturday so I should be fine. I have resigned myself to going into work today for a double... Yay thirteen hours. My big problem is the fact that my period just kicked in, two days early, and it's a rager. I'm sitting at the library right now trying to concentrate on my book for tonights homework and all I can think about is ripping out my uterus and replacing it with something more convenient like an extra kidney or liver. My legs hurt. My back hurts. My stomache hurts. And this period seems to be one that is also giving me a migraine. I don't like it and I want it to stop.

If I just had to go to work it would be fine. I could deal with that. But my PERIOD too! NO I disagree. Life should not put both work and period on me at the same time. It's too much. I don't want to go to that place and I sure as fuck don't want my period to down the day even more!

Oh and I'm missing homecoming festivities because of my crap job.

Me...

I have this problem of walling myself up. Not letting people in. I really don't like people knowing who I am. I let people see what I want them to see. The get the revised version of myself. The nicely polished edition. The version people see is that nice, new American History textbook. The edition where we gloss over the Native American massacre, the racism and slavery, the religious persecution, the ethnic persecution, and all those other bad bits of our history. The edition that shows the Americans as being the saviors of all. In every day life I leave out the bad parts, the gruesome stories that know one wants to hear, the imperfections, the moments where I fuck everything up, the times where I'm the really bad guy.

This blog makes me nervous. I am trying with all my might to show the truth. To show me. The real me. The good me. The bad me. The in between me. The unsure me. The sad me. The scared me. The me that has no clue. The self-conscious me. The betrayed me. The hurt me. The vulnerable me. The mean me. The completely and totally imperfect version of me.

Every time I hit the publish button I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach. The one that says "You'll be judged. You'll be a pariah. You're problems are too much to handle. You're not worthy of anything. You don't deserve anything that you had, have, will have or want." I'm putting everything out into the world for anyone and everyone to see. I'm nervous. I still want to be perfect and polished. I am giving over a small amount of control every time I push that hugely intimidating publish button.

What I Want

It's taken me a long time to realize why a part of me likes my job.

It's the reason why I acted when I was little. It's the reason why I loved dancing as much as I did. It's why I love singing. It's why my tragedies are conveyed  through humor. I love entertaining. I love making people laugh. I love making people feel something.

In my every day life with my friends and my family, for the most part, I like to be in the corner. I like to be over-looked. I like playing second fiddle. I like to disappear. But the moment the lights dim and I'm on stage or the focus. I part of me comes alive. When I acted as a little girl, I made people laugh. As a dancer I put so much emotion into everything I did that it didn't matter if I was a beat behind or not as technically good. The audience felt my dancing. They knew what I was saying. It is one of the few moments that I open up and let everyone in and let everything out. When I sing, truly sing, I've moved a few people to tears. (I'm hoping it's because I don't completely suck. If that is the reason, then I should probably stop.) Before people get to know me, I mean truly know me, I come off as, my friend states it, "overly sweet and caring, a meek person, someone that can be walked all over, unassuming, mediocre, always quiet and just plain nice." When I'm acting, singing, dancing that person doesn't exist anymore. I surprise people. They see me. Not the person I want them to see.

There has always been a part of me that hungers to dance and sing. It's always been my dream. One that nags at me, eating away at me. I see people my age and younger who are so successful, for the soul reason that they are going after their dreams and doing what they have always wanted to do. I've never been able to go after those dreams. I don't know if it's because I'm too shy. Or if it's because I've never had the opportunity or support. Or if it's that I'm too scared. Or the fact that I can't stand being let down more than I have been. Or if I don't want to let people in. Maybe all of them combined. Because if I take a moment to truly admit it to myself. I really think that I may have enough talent to succeed.

The only reason I like stripping is because in those few moments on stage when I'm not naked and just entertaining. In those few moments all that I am doing is entertaining through actual dancing or making people laugh. I enjoy making people feel something. Sometimes I like being the center of attention. I wish I could entertain in the real world. I wish that something could compel me to stand on a stage and sing. I wish I could dance. I wish I could give a performance that makes someone feel they're not alone. I wish that I could give a performance that changes my life. I wish my dreams would someday be something more than what I know they will always be... Dreams.

And occasionally, I make myself feel something.

Procrastination

Right now I'm sitting at Starbucks... Writing my multicultural psych paper... I have my name down and the date it's due. My first paragraph has a nice little paragraph going on. It reads: THIS IS WHERE MY PAPER IS STARTING... WHEN I HAVE AN IDEA... SO YEAH... YAY CULTURE! That's kind of it. I'm being so productive. I've only been sitting here since 5:30 a.m. GOD it's so fucking early.

I got two hours of sleep last night. I'm sick, by the way. I was in bed watching TV while Jamie was asleep next to me. Vera texted me telling me Alexis' boyfriend cheated on her, in front of her. I then texted Alexis and asked if she wanted me there. She said no, which meant yes but I know you're sick. I waited about 45 minutes. I was gonna get out of bed to go be with her after my TV show finished (I'm a lazy friend sometimes). Anyways she called me and asked me to go to the bars so that I could be the over 21 sitting at the table with the beer. I shot out of bed, grabbed a dress out of the closet, tossed my hair up, put on random shoes, and ran down the street to the bar. I walked in and gave her a big hug. I sat down and had the realization that even in a major rush I manage to match. How the fuck does that happen??? I'm even sick and I manage to grab one of my cute outfits. At the table there is a pitcher of beer and four glasses. Alexis ends up drinking most of it. But before she does one of my friends, Fay, hands me a glass full of beer. I look at it and look at her with a, probably, confused look on my face. The thought through my mind was "What do I do with this?" Fay responds with the clearly obvious implication of the drink being handed to me "Drink!" Alexis looks at her "Dude she doesn't drink, and not definitely not beer. Plus she's uber sick." I continue along my thought process of "How is it that I'm so naive to not think of drinking beer when it's handed to me. I am so incredibly dull it's not even funny."

Anyways, by the time I got back home from being the designated drunk person, without the drunk part, it's about 1:00 am. I couldn't fall asleep cause I was still so mad at Alexis' now ex-boyfriend I was up for another hour. Then to be at Starbucks by five we were up and out of the house by 4:50. And I'm still procrastinating my paper writing...  

Where Oh Where Can It Be?

I am on my period. And my big predicament of the week has been the loss of a tampon.

I had to work and when you're on your period and stripping you have to cut off the string and shove it WAY up in there. If it's not far enough in there then it will fall out. If it's too far in there then you risk losing it. Anyways I was hanging out in my dorm room with my three good friends. I was going to work in a little while and had just put a tampon in... We were having fun and all of a sudden I felt something. I went and looked. No tampon. My vagina swallowed it. My friends were freaking out a little bit. I was kind of "whatever" about the whole thing. Anyways. I said I'd wait for it to come out... You know, give it three days.

I walked into class and one of Jamie's fraternity brothers, and a good friend of mine, asked what was wrong. I responded with "I lost my tampon." "Can't you go get another?" "Not that kind of lost." "Wait you mean..." he made an upwards motion with his hands. "Yep. My vagina ate it." "You need to get that fixed. Have Jamie go get it out for you."

I went to work and put a second one in because I still had to work and couldn't bleed everywhere. That would be a bit off putting.

When I got home, Jamie was already asleep. He couldn't help me hunt for it, so I took a long hot shower and searched for it myself. Suffice to say I had to scrub all the blood from under my nails and the bath tub looked like it had just played a lead role in a horror film. Oh yeah, and no tampon.

I went to bed. Spent yesterday hanging out with my friends. My two friends decided to tell the entire table at lunch about my predicament, and for as "tough" as they are the whole lost tampon thing kind of weirded them out. They all told my I ABSOLUTELY HAD to go to the doctor. I didn't.

Later that evening I went to put another in and lo-and-behold it was finally found. Anyways that tampon spent two days bonding with my vagina and I was happy to have it located. My friends were all relieved to hear that I wasn't going to die of toxic shock syndrome.

It's not the first time I've "lost" a tampon and I highly doubt it will be the last.