Here I am again, not knowing where to turn. I can’t even begin to describe the thoughts and feelings running through my head at the moment. I’m not sure what all of them are. I want to call Flan and cry my eyes out…about everything. About how much I hate work, about dreading school, moving out on my own, how I’m terrified of Bob and Mr. Cook, how I don’t know how to deal with Lindsay and this wedding, I don’t even know how to apply to Rutgers because I’m even such a wuss that I’m scared to call the advisement department of CCC! What did God even waste his time creating such a pathetic creature, its beyond me!
My stupid Roz mural won’t stay up, well three pieces of it anyway. My laptop is falling apart, my cellphone just died, my car needs work. I need work. Lots and lots of it. Crankshaw doesn’t trust me to teach a class and the other day she reprimanded for something I said.
Flan always has to leave and see her dad. Lindsay is busy with her wedding. Rebekah gets on my nerves. Ilana, Sarah and Amanda won’t answer me. Kelly just left with a promise to actually call me this semester (she won’t). Sara left without saying goodbye.
I have nothing bad to say about Annie and Lori though lol. I just don’t feel much like hanging out with them at the moment, and they are leaving for FL anyway.
And I have always hated DSW, but I’m starting to hate SLPD. Is that possible? Part of me says no, you can’t. The others says, yes, its good for you, you need to move on. Well why didn’t I just stay away! when I was still happy with it…. Why am I never happy?
I’m happy for the half-hour I have Flan to myself but as soon as its over I’m bummed again. A half-hour of happiness a week. Sweet.
And while I’m complaining….why do I always get put on both jobs on Fri? They leave me dry almost all week and then they both want me to work Fri so I end up with a 13 or so hour day….
And then 8 hrs on Sat…I HATE IT! Especially once classes start…but what can I do? I need the money….I need the money. I need all this so I can stay here and have my half an hour of happiness….I work 50 hours a week for that….that one half hour. There is something wrong with this picture. Something terribly wrong
