?

Log in

Disappear Orlean's Journal [entries|friends|calendar]
Disappear Orlean

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

another whinge session to feast your eyes upon. [13 Dec 2003|04:09am]
[ mood | tired ]

it’s 4am. that only gives me five or less hours to hit the sack and prepare myself for a long eight-hour shift tomorrow. the sleeping pills never kick in for some reason, so i’m forced to either continue typing lazily with one hand or laying motionless on the couch while the insomnia persists to ruin my last few hours of slumber. i’m going to be falling in a siesta in the middle of work and that’s not good considering the fact i’ll be coming in right at rush-hour to indulge in the grating high-pitched moans of jennifer as i juggle push-out and drinks. and i’ll probably get my hours cut while at it.

yesterday i kept telling myself to take things in slow stride, to incorporate talking and asking questions as much as i can, and greeting customers with the utmost respect. but every night as i sit outside sipping away at my diet coke waiting on a ride home, i realize every day’s going to end up with the same promises and expectations, and i’m going to prolong the selective mutism until i blow my brains. i feel rather childish getting so uptight over something so trivial, but i seriously can’t take it anymore. i can’t take coming off pretentious, taking every little comment offensively and bursting into tears, appearing so weak because of it, and having customers rip away at my self-esteem not really knowing how detrimental every comment is to me. the only thing they know is that i let them get away with it.

what’s worse of all is having everyone expect a miraculous 90 degree turn right now, this second, because they, the gods of the universe, said i had to. then, if it’s not negative feedback, it’s nitpicking for the sake of nitpicking that’s done as if they’re the first people in history to say, “shhh, be quiet, you’re too loud.” or “why don’t you talk? cat got your tongue?”

if i’m going to be reminded of my weakness at least use some originality.

after i get everyone’s presents out of the way i might just hack off six inches of my hair, that, or buy a few political books to divert my mind on something less negative. who knows, it might just make me feel better.

(1) is standing on my chest | stand on my chest

[11 Dec 2003|03:06am]
[ mood | amused ]

i always notice those who appear apathetic are always the ones with the most dire bruises. they’ll combust into fits of vile disparagement with just enough pressure and yet you can’t help but stop them in their tracks and ask, “i thought nothing mattered anymore?”

people are funny.

stand on my chest

Headache-inducing black and white blotches of text. [05 Dec 2003|04:08am]
[ mood | groggy ]

It seems the ability to write concise and stimulating entries has plummeted into the depths of hell since god knows when. Well, I’m sure it’s always been the circumstance, but I remember a point in my life where I actually wrote halfway decently without the need to lacerate sentence after sentence to get my point across. What once was pleasurable is now obligatory headache-inducing black and white blotches of text that makes absolutely no sense. I just don’t get the picture. I use to be such a virtuous writer. I even wrote poetry for God sakes.

All these years I’ve dedicated myself to writing with the stamina of being an abstract thinking novelist. Now I’d rather dump the fiction books for a concrete thinking career in law. Not only that, but my idea of fun is not writing or reading fiction books anymore, it’s studying mathematics. Let me please elucidate my deep and sincere hatred for mathematics right now for those of you that don‘t know me.

HATEHATEHATE!

I’ve transitioned from wanting to be an artist to a money-grubbing yuppie and I‘m not sure if this is really what I want.

I don’t know why attending the best law school in the nation is so important except the fact it’s impressive and extraordinary compared to, say, going to a community college in Jacksonville, which unfortunately is the only option I have at the moment. It’s not like going to Harvard or Stanford denotes my intelligence. If anything, the most intelligent people I’ve ever met either ended up dropping out or never going to college, but if that’s true, why am I about to blow my brains out over spending two years minimum at a community college?

What am I turning into? That’s all I want to know.

I’m not even sure how this entry turned into yet another nonsensical blather about everything but what I intended the entry to be about. I guess I have so much on my mind right now.

Over a week ago Toni invited me to go Christmas shopping with her and Keisha, and I agreed, thinking I’d still be ongoing the liquid fast feeling high and elated from it. Instead I felt disconsolate from failing my fast after four days, aghast with how I looked, and determined to cancel the event irrespective of how Toni or Keisha felt about it. I figured I got away with not going since she hadn't called yet. I was wrong. She showed up anyway in spite of my obvious attempts of avoiding her. Never in my life have I befriended such an implausible mix of persistence and deliberation bottled up in one person. I never thought I’d actually like that in someone until tonight either.

In a condensed nutshell, we went to Wal-Mart to pick up her son’s bicycle on layaway, stopped by Best Buy and got Nathan cartilage for the printer, and last but not least, ended up at a tattoo parlor with a homey atmosphere and mooching cat on Timuquana Road. So, tonight went well despite not being able to wear my usual glob of eyeliner.

(4) is standing on my chest | stand on my chest

well, good morning to you too. [03 Dec 2003|06:23am]
[ mood | incoherent ]

i went into a cleaning frenzy last night where i proclaimed aloud to inanimate objects, which, might i add, was rather dusty, that i’d no longer let myself go to hell anymore.

if anyone took the above sentence literally, please take the time to shoot yourself in the head. i hate it when people can’t read through wordplay. then again, maybe i’m not too good at it. what do i know? i’m tired. that’s my justification for such incoherent juxtapose.

but anyway, i seriously did clean my room. it took two garbage bags full of cans, plastic plates, and god knows what to evacuate the trash in my room. how i even allowed my room to get this messy is beyond my comprehension, but i must say it reminded me of six months ago when i had no job, no friends, no acquaintances, absolutely nothing to turn to but subordinate online friendships with little or no strength to keep the days ticking. i was at the lowest point of my life at sixteen years old. i resembled that of a forty-something year old man who lost his wife and children to infidelity--and yes, i’m describing my uncle john right now.

so, i got a job. i decided laying comatose in bed, spending days in slumber, and nights in lament was rather melodramatic now that i was old enough to work. i was a loser. had i gone any longer without taking those baby steps things would’ve only gotten more intense for me. i guess what i’m trying to say is the only times i’m not organized and well kept is when something tragic is happening, and i guess i unknowingly let my room fall apart because of my grandmother’s cancer. cancer is the exact culprit that delayed my academic quest four years ago as well.

i just can’t let things ruin my life anymore, as cold and selfish as that sounds. and this entry is a mess i’m too lay to fix tonight.

(3) is standing on my chest | stand on my chest

Employee of the Month? [30 Nov 2003|05:49pm]
[ mood | happy ]

I’ve been fasting for almost three days now. I know it’s a defense mechanism for dealing with customers and irksome rushes, but my mind’s playing tricks on me, convincing me that the fasting is the reason things have gone smoothly. I’m less panicking and rushing; I’m just mellow and am able to avoid the amount of people waiting inside while I do push-out and drinks, which is actually helping me keep up with who’s drink is who’s because, as I said before, when I’m not panicking I’m adept in handling almost anything.

Today was actually pretty nice, not extraordinary, but definitely mellow and not so overwhelming. Siroan had me clock in twenty minutes early and intended on having me trained on front cash in two hours, but Jennifer decided it wasn’t a good idea and argued somewhat with the new assistant manager. She didn’t understand why Jennifer was doing this. She asked how I was ever going to learn front cash if she keeps shunning me from it and Jennifer said--sounding almost like a broken record--that I don‘t talk enough. Needless to say I didn’t get trained yet again. Siroan patted me on the shoulder and apologized. “I’ve been promising you all week. I’m trying.” he said. Then his shift was over and he left.

Rumor also has it that I’m the next Employee of the Month, however, when Keisha first told me; I thought she was being facetious. The first reaction was to laugh, but as I shook my head and smiled, she realized I didn’t believe her so she exclaimed again, “I’m serious! It’s on the paper and everything. It says Employee of the Month and your name is beside it.”

Again, though I knew she wasn’t lying this time, I presumed maybe it was a mistake and I couldn’t figure out why they’d choose me as Employee of the Month. She asked me why I didn’t look so excited. I guess after a long time of working there my goal wasn’t to become Employee of the Month anymore; it was to become better at my job. It’s certainly a nice motivator though.

Toni told me I have 28 hours a week either this week or the next. I’m going to assume it’s the next. It seems like my hours are only being sectioned into more days and smaller shifts this current week. If it is true, yay, if not, I just finished parading around Jacksonville to drop off three applications this morning before work. I’m bound to at least get one call soon. Hopefully.

stand on my chest

Where the fuck did all of this optimism come from? [29 Nov 2003|12:15am]
I probably had the best conversation thus far with one of the people I least expected to talk to. That’s right, Toni’s boyfriend Nathan. By the end of the conversation I felt a sense of euphoria that left me feeling enthusiastic and even a little confident in myself, which, was precisely what I needed to muster enough energy to start studying law and politics again. What left me awestruck was the fact we talked for an hour nonstop without any pauses. For the first time in my life I was able to swiftly type a somewhat compelling discussion without having to stop and take time to formulate “the perfect” subject, and not once did I endure the word purgatory I’m normally cursed with.

The conversation.Collapse )

I'll hopefully eradicate the awkward, socially inept kid I currently am with a little more understanding in the subjects I'm pursuing a career out of. Personally, I shouldn't ever be afraid of being wrong, I should be afraid of being so arrogant that I can't ever accept being wrong and learning from the opponent as an alternative to losing. But right now I seriously would crack, so I'm going to try taking each step at a time until I ultimately succeed.

Wait a minute. Where the fuck did all of this optimism come from?
stand on my chest

Yet another boring subject line. [28 Nov 2003|06:13pm]
The majority of yesterday ended up being unpredictably pleasant, but things took a toll for the worse when I least suspected it. The worst days always end up like that for some reason. Cindy-- my mother’s stepbrother’s wife--ended up making Thanksgiving just what I expected. She first commented on my appearance by exclaiming, “You look just like your mother, it kills me!” and as she said this I glanced over to my brother and watched him deride surreptitiously at the mendacity of her comment. Also, it was pretty ironic because for once in my life I actually didn’t expect anyone to start conversation with something rather tedious and “obvious” to them.

I was tired the entire time I was there too. I hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. I rested my head on the arm of the chair and closed my eyes only to rouse to yet another offensive conversation starter. “Tired?” she chuckled. “I’m tired too, but I’m forty and you’re, what, fourteen?” I shook my head no and tried to brush the assumption off as she continued guessing my age lower and lower until I finally mumbled my age. As always I smiled as she kept jabbing at my already bruised ego for the last few hours before everyone departed.

My brother and I visited the lake before and after dinner to get away from everyone. That’s really the only time I enjoyed myself.

Enough about Thanksgiving though.

Bud called twenty minutes before 12pm and asked if I wanted to work today. Wanting more hours I of course told him it wasn’t a problem. I lost track while doing push-out and drinks, and ended up sweeping cigarette butts and leaves on a windy day because Kenny Mac probably saw I wasn‘t much help. After about fifteen minutes of sweeping the front and feeling the laughter of others as I made a fool of myself, Jenny walked out in her usual high-pitched tone and exclaimed, “Kenny Mac is insane!” She grabbed another broom and started sweeping alongside me. I’d say that was a pretty nice gesture if I wasn’t one of her many excuses to go outside and puff away at a cigarette. Help is help though.

The only positive today was being able to work with Toni. Siroan says he's going to have her train me on front cash Sunday for two hours. Finally.
stand on my chest

[27 Nov 2003|03:36am]
[ mood | depressed ]

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

It’s been an hour and the only thing I’ve managed to write is, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I’m depleted of any energy. Cans, plastic cups, plates, and crumpled notes are scattered across the room in an inadvertent strike against ensuing my aspirations. All I’ve managed to do lately is shove infinite amounts of food into my mouth. On the satirical sense of the situation, I could always join food-eating contests and win lots of cash, but since I’m not in a comedic mood at the moment, the only sense I feel is shame.

Thanksgiving beholds the usual inauspicious critiques, so for a good fourteen hours I‘m going to be reminded of how fat, unsuccessful, friendless, and license-free I am. While they say all of this I’m going to chuckle it off. I’m going to pretend the reality of the words doesn’t hurt while I gather the pieces of my severely shattered ego. This isn’t going to be the first time where I’ve dissuaded social events on the account of people’s insensitivity and self-assurance. It’s a no-win situation. If I end up not going, regret will plague my mind for the rest of my life for not being there for my grandmother’s last holidays. If I do go, well, lets just say I’ll come back feeling less human than I already do.

(1) is standing on my chest | stand on my chest

Money dilemma. [24 Nov 2003|07:16pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

I’m thinking about buying an outfit for the anticipated job interview that might come across my path in the near future. The rest shall be left to the bank’s hands for safekeeping. If I continue having this amount of money in such easy reach my money will dwindle away from four hundred thirteen to a mere twenty bucks again. And to think I was able to save responsibly when I was younger actually boggles my mind. I swear I’m growing-down instead of up sometimes.

Then again, having that extra cash saved up seems to attract my family members like flies to feces. I bought my brother two hundred dollars worth of games for his birthday, you know, trying to be the thoughtful sibling not many brothers even have, and he decides shutting himself away from me is a superb way of showing his gratitude. I know he’s thankful, but he never shows it in the way most people do and it infuriates me at times because no matter how much I try to make him happy, he just doesn‘t seem to notice or care. And what’s so worrisome is the fact I’m starting to emulate every mother in the world by treating him like he’s my son. I wish I’d let go and let him make his bed now.

Speaking of mothers, there’s my mother. Sometimes seeing her fuming in rage makes me want to eradicate my savings account and do this and that for her to prevent from having to hear her carry on about how much her life sucks. I’ve seriously spent at least $800 just on food within the past six months because she didn’t feel like cooking and if I didn’t, well, my jobless nineteen year old brother would be forced to nag about how much he hates hotdogs and how he’d rather starve. Doing those small little favors ends up being very detrimental for someone who’s trying to save up for educational purposes and works dismal hours as it is.

I’ve sort of avoided the logical side of getting a second job. Not only will it probably effect the little hours I have at Burger King, it’s going to leave me with no spare days for my grandmother. It’s not working more hours I’m concerned about, it’s the fact Burger King gives me twelve hours a week and sections them into more days than necessary. If I’m going to work twelve hours, I’d much rather work longer shifts and not waste so many days, so I can work at Subway and visit my grandmother regularly. The schedule is now becoming too spontaneous and getting smaller every week.

Then, while I deal with the dilemma of little hours, Brittany's getting thirty hours a week and it fills me with so much animosity, not really towards her, but towards myself. If I could only be like Brittany or like Katie was, then I wouldn’t even be having this situation to deal with. All the stuff I don’t know would already be known, and the little hours wouldn’t be so little anymore because I would say something about it to Bud constantly. That’s their personalities: aggressive and confrontational. That’s something I could never be.

stand on my chest

Mundane day number five hundred sixty-seven. [23 Nov 2003|04:40pm]
[ mood | relieved ]

Well, today wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t as spectacular as it could’ve been, but I guess you could say it was one of those monotonous days that don‘t really stand out. Scratch that, after having a horrible day yesterday it did stand out a bit for once. I know 95% of the reason was because we were tediously slow. The other 5% was due to Toni cheering me up ten minutes before I clocked in. Seeing her for only two hours a week depresses me sometimes because I’d much rather have my schedule based on the hours she’s working. Like Nathan, she’s unusually patient and very calm when something goes wrong, but for some reason there’s a secret conspiracy of having me work with either competitive sixteen year olds who aren’t at all helpful or lazy bums.

Really, the only thing that would honestly improve this job would be the ability to get more into the rhythm of doing boards during the rushes. I’ve also been begging for over a week to be trained on front cash, but they keep blowing it off and putting me on broiler. I presume they have a lot of other things on their mind, that, or they see me as a lost cause and feel I might scare off customers with my so-called “disability“. I actually have at least five people who regularly come in and believe I’m seriously unable to talk, and every time they ask, I’m too lazy to do anything else but nod my head yes.

Brittany and Toni always ask me why I’m not inquiring for more hours. I desperately need the hours--especially now that my grandmother has terminal lung cancer and has only one more chance to take a trip to Biloxi--but I figure asking for more hours is a waste of energy and time. Having one of your worst employees taking up the hours for, say, the greatness of Brittany and anyone but me would be a little too vexing for Bud to deal with. So, I’m trying to improve myself. Once I feel I’m worthy of working part-time hours I’ll take it upon myself to say, “Hey Bud, I’ve been working hard lately and I feel I’m getting a little better. Could I possibly have more hours?”

Right now I’m going to try balancing two jobs. I’m hoping since now I’m more used to being around people compared to my first day at Burger King, I could try starting over so-to-speak and make up a new personality at Subway or Larry’s Giant Subs. Usually these plans backfire once I’m in the situation, but who knows, maybe Subway will actually train me and I’ll grow more accustomed to talking with the customers this time. Maybe that’s all I really need: a fresh new start with a competent manager.

stand on my chest

I should be in bed right now. [23 Nov 2003|02:18am]
I don’t really know what happened yesterday. Whether it was sleep deprivation, incompetence, or the Failure Fairy, I still managed to not succeed at anything. For hours I kept trying to find someone else to blame for failing front boards. All the excuses actually kept me sane, at least for a while, before I broke down and realized had I simply not been myself for one day I could’ve actually survived the rush. If I could’ve talked and asked Siroan where he was, and calmed down just a little bit I probably would’ve done fine.

The only person I wasn’t angry at by the end of the day was Toni’s boyfriend--Nathan. I don’t know how he deals with me. I pitched in and helped with good intentions and totally fucked up the pace he was in. And yet he kept his patience. Not even a sound of incoherent fussing perked past his lips. How he managed to keep his cool is beyond my comprehension.

What’s so hysterical about the whole ordeal is the fact all of this happened right in front of the man who hired me. He watched as I failed at understanding where I was on the screen after Siroan’s help. He even watched as I failed to provide them with enough meat and bread to get by the rush. He didn’t see that all the meat I was putting in kept coming out in shreds or in blood. He didn’t see the things that weren’t my fault. I was taken aback by the expression on his face. His thoughts were so subtle and yet so obvious. His eyes indicated I wasn’t as good as I should be after six months and I could feel him trying to not to say that to me for some reason.

It’s no wonder I work shitty hours. The only reason I probably even have my job is because of equal opportunity employment or diversity. That’s the only way that would explain why I haven’t been fired yet. Most of them still don’t understand why I can’t just “suck it up” and talk. If it was that easy, do you honestly think I would’ve wasted sixteen years of my life not doing just that? It’s almost laughable how some people have absolutely no empathy.

So, why aren't I laughing?

On a lighter note, I offered to dine my mother out to eat after work. She decided she wanted to have breakfast for dinner, so we went to Denny’s. She ordered sausage, hash browns, eggs, and pancakes and I forced down a pile of french fries and a Boca veggie burger while listening to 50's music. At least I made someone else’s day a little brighter.
stand on my chest

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]