What's Changed Since My Last Post
I quit my job. It was a long overdue decision; the environment was toxic to say the least, and while I will miss the animals, I certainly won't miss anything else. Quitting a full time double-digit an hour job prompted me to learn how to defer student loans. As it turns out, deferring them is a) not that uncommon and b) not that difficult. Apparently everyone and their brother has done it. Which explains why school is so expensive in the first place. We're contributing to our own vicious cycle. A small part of me that enjoys feeling consistently guilty wonders if my younger friends missed out on financial aid because my older friends won't pay their loans.
I took a part time job in retail again, partially out of desperation and partially as a favor to a friend (my boss). He was kind enough to give me an immediate position, so for the summer I am a retail employee again. I worked with the company from the ages of 17-19, then again from 21-22. I'm not exactly a newbie, despite working in a different location now, but with retail things change so quickly refresher courses are almost always a necessity. Donning the uniform shirt was difficult. I stood in the mirror for a few minutes wondering how I had managed to time-travel seven years back in time. Before college, before a car, before a boyfriend, an apartment, a dog, I had worked here. Now I'm here again.
Except there's a difference. I feel older. One of my coworkers is a nineteen year old who is, for lack of a better term, intense. For me to call someone else intense is impressive. For me to think someone else needs to "chill" is remarkable. She's been nothing but friendly in her attempts to educate me in the ways of store operations, though. She's not bossy....just wired. Whenever she starts a tangent on the intricacies of displaying printer ink on shelves, part of me wants to grab her shoulders and slowly mouth "CALM...DOWN." Perhaps this is her first "real" job, and she hasn't learned yet that her retail work is, like most everyone's job, low on the scale of Life's Most Important Factors.
I also figure it's because for the better part of two years I was taking care of people's pets. I can only imagine how mothers/daycare workers feel. (I never want to find out, I can just only imagine.) For 24 months, 40+ hours a week, I was watching over peoples' livelihood. Their animals. Their babies. Living, breathing, interactive beings with health requirements, emotional needs, mental processes. I had to keep them safe, happy, and well behaved. Making sure notebooks lay straight on a shelf just doesn't seem as important.
I got into a car accident. My flip flop got caught under my accelerator (or break?) and I literally could not stop my car. Forced to make the choice between angling my vehicle and clip the gigantic Jeep in front of me or steering around them and coming to a stop by meeting up with a tree or a house, I hit the car. My insurance premium gets evaluated again in January. It's an understatement to say I'm a little concerned about how expensive it's going to get.
I turned 24 four days before the accident. Quitting my job immediately basically eradicated more than 75% of my everyday stress, and my creativity has flown even more so than when I graduated. If anyone is interested in my art, search 'crissx' on Deviantart.
Lessons I Have Learned The Hard Way
- The smaller piece of steak always cooks faster than the bigger one. I forget this. All the time.
- A good way not to get sauce EVERYWHERE when cooking it is to cook a lot at once. It bubbles less.
- Don't drive in flip flops. Did I mention that? Oh, sorry.
- Coworking relationship + outside of work friendship = big hairy mess.
Other Updates
Our dog is coming along. Due to the sudden way in which I left my job, the snail-like pace of his separation anxiety training became impossible. We're now trying a more "sink or swim" method, and we leave him up to two hours. There's often lots of barking -- a matter not helped by the fact two other dogs on our floor do the same -- and some small accidents by the door, but nothing else. He doesn't touch any of our things or "go" anywhere but directly in front of the door.
(Old, old picture....)
My apartment is always clean. At first I thought I could credit myself to this, but then I realized it's probably because Matt and I just don't do much in it. We sit on the couch to read, or draw, or write. The most maintenance required is dusting and Swiffering every few days, because of the dog.
It's still relatively empty of decor. I've purchased one piece of wall art.
From Kohls! It's on the far side of the apartment, distant enough from the two vintage Star Wars posters that I'm comfortable describing the SW corner as the 'kiddie wing.' (I kidding. I love them. <3 Matt!)
A Promise
I'm going to try to be better about updating. I've started carrying a 'writing journal' with me almost everywhere, to jot down creative ideas for private writing, public writing, art, comics, etc. Everyone is free to poke me or suggest ideas!
I took a part time job in retail again, partially out of desperation and partially as a favor to a friend (my boss). He was kind enough to give me an immediate position, so for the summer I am a retail employee again. I worked with the company from the ages of 17-19, then again from 21-22. I'm not exactly a newbie, despite working in a different location now, but with retail things change so quickly refresher courses are almost always a necessity. Donning the uniform shirt was difficult. I stood in the mirror for a few minutes wondering how I had managed to time-travel seven years back in time. Before college, before a car, before a boyfriend, an apartment, a dog, I had worked here. Now I'm here again.
Except there's a difference. I feel older. One of my coworkers is a nineteen year old who is, for lack of a better term, intense. For me to call someone else intense is impressive. For me to think someone else needs to "chill" is remarkable. She's been nothing but friendly in her attempts to educate me in the ways of store operations, though. She's not bossy....just wired. Whenever she starts a tangent on the intricacies of displaying printer ink on shelves, part of me wants to grab her shoulders and slowly mouth "CALM...DOWN." Perhaps this is her first "real" job, and she hasn't learned yet that her retail work is, like most everyone's job, low on the scale of Life's Most Important Factors.
I also figure it's because for the better part of two years I was taking care of people's pets. I can only imagine how mothers/daycare workers feel. (I never want to find out, I can just only imagine.) For 24 months, 40+ hours a week, I was watching over peoples' livelihood. Their animals. Their babies. Living, breathing, interactive beings with health requirements, emotional needs, mental processes. I had to keep them safe, happy, and well behaved. Making sure notebooks lay straight on a shelf just doesn't seem as important.
I got into a car accident. My flip flop got caught under my accelerator (or break?) and I literally could not stop my car. Forced to make the choice between angling my vehicle and clip the gigantic Jeep in front of me or steering around them and coming to a stop by meeting up with a tree or a house, I hit the car. My insurance premium gets evaluated again in January. It's an understatement to say I'm a little concerned about how expensive it's going to get.
I turned 24 four days before the accident. Quitting my job immediately basically eradicated more than 75% of my everyday stress, and my creativity has flown even more so than when I graduated. If anyone is interested in my art, search 'crissx' on Deviantart.
Lessons I Have Learned The Hard Way
- The smaller piece of steak always cooks faster than the bigger one. I forget this. All the time.
- A good way not to get sauce EVERYWHERE when cooking it is to cook a lot at once. It bubbles less.
- Don't drive in flip flops. Did I mention that? Oh, sorry.
- Coworking relationship + outside of work friendship = big hairy mess.
Other Updates
Our dog is coming along. Due to the sudden way in which I left my job, the snail-like pace of his separation anxiety training became impossible. We're now trying a more "sink or swim" method, and we leave him up to two hours. There's often lots of barking -- a matter not helped by the fact two other dogs on our floor do the same -- and some small accidents by the door, but nothing else. He doesn't touch any of our things or "go" anywhere but directly in front of the door.
My apartment is always clean. At first I thought I could credit myself to this, but then I realized it's probably because Matt and I just don't do much in it. We sit on the couch to read, or draw, or write. The most maintenance required is dusting and Swiffering every few days, because of the dog.
It's still relatively empty of decor. I've purchased one piece of wall art.
From Kohls! It's on the far side of the apartment, distant enough from the two vintage Star Wars posters that I'm comfortable describing the SW corner as the 'kiddie wing.' (I kidding. I love them. <3 Matt!)
A Promise
I'm going to try to be better about updating. I've started carrying a 'writing journal' with me almost everywhere, to jot down creative ideas for private writing, public writing, art, comics, etc. Everyone is free to poke me or suggest ideas!
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