My Vein, My Blood – 13


I think what might be reasonable is to suspend all Spider Solitaire play until I’ve done my 3 pages of journaling each day.  Let’s face it.  Spider Solitaire is a colossal waste of my valuable time.  And while the morning pages may have a questionable value, it’s less questionable than computer card games.  At least you’ve got something to show for it.  Written pages.  I am not as tired as I thought I’d be working 2 days at 5th Ave.  Today dragged by actually.  It seemed slow but maybe that’s just because the staffing problems weren’t there like they were yesterday.  It was fun working with C again.  C is very nice.  But everything seems (is) backward at that store.  I’m feeling better about my hours now.  I hope the mangosteen juice helps K.  He always bounces back—but as I’ve wondered before, how long can he continue to bounce back?  Maybe I’ll tell T that I’ll work Saturdays if C’s going to open cuz I’d rather work with him than with P.  She makes me crazy.  I don’t care for her energy or her attitude.  How exciting that S got engaged!!  I’m so happy for her.  What a risk she took moving across the country.  But it paid off.  I am so glad D’s coming home this weekend.  I miss my baby.  I wish I could get Fleuree’s fleas under control.  I can’t believe that guy R kept wanting to get the refill price on a red-eye without bringing back the cup.  Once maybe we’ll do that but not repeatedly.  5th Ave. doesn’t have the warmth that our store has which I think has to do with the number of regular customers we have that we know by name.  My house is so dirty.  I hope Dad likes that book.  And that he hasn’t read it already.  I hope M does good on his ladder test in Ocala.  I’m sure he will.  I didn’t realize the RWA conference was in Atlanta this year.  Not that I can think of a reason to go.  It all seems so stupid to me now.  Even the RWR articles.  I should probably subscribe to some other industry publications like PW or Publishers Lunch, but I know I wouldn’t read them.  My arm is getting numb from writing.  I need to see if my files copied to that CD.  I sure don’t have a lot of confidence in that computer to copy files to CD when I need it to.  Maybe I’ll just use my laptop to continue writing Annie.  If I have an up to date CD I can take it to Starbucks and work on it.  Or I could at least try.  Might be too distracting.  Worth a shot.  Beautiful day today.  I am trying to finish this third page so I can go watch Jeopardy.  Could I really go out dancing with C and T?  Not that I’d dance.  But it’d be fun to watch.  Would I look stupid?  I’m afraid so!


Okay here we go—3 pages in twenty minutes.  Should have spelled out three.  I am tired.  Screen repair guys woke me from my nap.  Well, unfortunately Starbucks is making me think.  I’ll have to go through my whole spiel I bet about why I don’t want to be a shift supervisor.  I probably sounded like an arrogant snob when I told J I was grossly overqualified for the job of barista and if I couldn’t do it well after two years there was something seriously wrong.  Well I’ve seen shift supervisors be abused.  You can’t work 20 hrs. and be a shift.  So what’s the point?  You also can’t say no when you’re needed cuz then you’re not a team player.  No, I think being a lowly barista suits me.  I can go home and not have to think about my job.  Not have to make too many decisions, not be responsible.  I’m tired of being responsible—maybe that’s it.  Been there.  Done that.  Let me do something else now.  Let me be irresponsible!  Funny you grow up and your parents teach you to be responsible.  They want you to be responsible.  You pretty much have to be responsible for at least your own life if you want to be a productive member of society.  Then you have the responsibility of teaching your kids to be responsible.  So you have to behave that way.  But once your kids are grown you really don’t want to do that any more.  You want to be free!  You want to sleep til noon and eat potato chips for dinner.  You’re so tired of doing you don’t want to do anything  you don’t want to do.  So what if I choose to work a mindless job and reject the potential for promotion?  It should be answer enough—that I don’t want to.  I shouldn’t have to explain it to anyone.  I drank some mangosteen juice.  Tastes like cranberry juice to me.  I expected B’s shirt to pop open or steam to come out of his ears when he drank it—like a super hero cartoon or something.  Well, what if it helped K?  Even a little bit?  Maybe it won’t, but it might.  I hate that C abused his trust.  K’s so easily hurt.  I hate con men.  Boy I hope A gets R’s nursing home care straightened out.  Because what would become of her if Medicaid won’t pay for her to stay there?  Surely they will.  I wonder why it’s so hard to get information.  Because it’s the government maybe.  I’m sorry D and A aren’t getting along.  D has no grasp of her own appeal.  Guys like C and A and J can’t help but fall hard for her, I guess.  I bet she’s lonely though.  She can’t make friends with girls and she can’t make friends with guys.  Makes it tough.  No wonder she misses Fleuree.  Well, I bet Jeopardy is on.  Three pages in twenty minutes!

One Comment:

  1. Well mangosteen will surely be able to help a lot of ailments. It is very rich in antioxidants making it one of the healthiest fruits of all time.

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