Comfortable With Conformity

July 27th


The only thing keeping me from crying is the knowledge that things can be worse. They can be much, much worse. I've hit bottom before-- there's nowhere to go but up now. Unfortunetly, I'm losing my perspective, but it's not all my fault. Anyone would go nuts if they were as bored as I was. Have you seen the people in the Big Brother house? Boredom makes you depressed, it makes you desperate, it makes you eat a lot.

I'm sad. I really have nothing to do. I haven't heard from the school yet, but I decided not to take the job if offered. It's just not something I want to do. Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me about it, but there was something I forgot to mention-- the job requires me to sign a 1-year contract with them, so they could sue me if I quit. That's the main reason I don't want to take the job, because I can't see myself teaching for more than six months.

Oh, and I have an interview this coming Tuesday, for a receptionist. My sister said, "A reCEPtionist?" in a snotty tone, and I said, "I HAVE to get out of the house." The one thing I won't do, no offense, is customer-service. I did that for three years with Pizza Hut, I'm not about to get into that again. My cousin works at Target and his whole family is sooo happy that he's finally working. I hate to tell them that I think it's pathetic, but then, I'm a snob. He's, like, 28. He should've graudated college and looked for something that's not Target. I hate when people squander away their potential with nowhere jobs. Not that being a receptionist is a big deal-- it's a very, very small deal, let's be honest. It's like the bottom of the corporate barrel. Still, it's full-time, it offers benefits, and it can't be less than $10/hr. And it would give me something to do.

I'm disgusting. I'm in my big T-shirt sweatpants stage, where I look round and shapeless. I haven't picked up a weight in a week. I haven't worked out in several days. I will. I promise. Working out is part of my personality. I just, sometimes...get into these phases where I feel fat, I want Snickers, and I don't want to do anything but be soothed. I love being soothed. No one plays with my hair. Last night my cousin casually slipped her fingers through my hair and I got all these chills and wished I had I could hire a full-time hair-player. That would be better than a massage any day.

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