Same Old Tirade, Different Day....

Nothin' like a little AC/DC at 8am, right? Well, maybe not for everyone. But my asshole, self-absorbed, baby-neglecting upstairs neighbors should have thought about that before they blasted shitty, old Nelly hits all afternoon directly over my sleeping head. They know damn straight that I work nights, therefore sleep days(at least until the end of the week I still do). They are constantly doing things that make clear just how thoughtless they are. And it was just enough to push me into some good, old-fashioned revenge. All you Anons out there can't bitch about revenge, isn't that a concept highly supported by most, if not all, organized religion? I understand that it's daytime, the acceptable time for most people to be awake. Because I make an unconventional choice in working nights, I have to be willing to make sacrifices and be somewhat flexible in my requirements for sleep. But these people are constantly making noise at a level that is well above and beyond normal noise. Either they're the most clumsy-ass, butter-fingered doofs in the world or they just throw shit on the floor all the time. Now, I admit, I've thrown shit at people in my life before. I've thrown plates, full cans of soda, rocks, sticks and I don't know how many personal items of my own that I will regret forever that I broke. But I mostly grew out of it as I got older, certainly that's part of why I put off having kids...you know, until the rage simmered down a bit. And mine has, like, improved about eighty percent. But I don't even throw this much crap. I definitely haven't broken anything of my own in a few years, thankfully. I have the money to re-buy tv's and shit. They don't seem to smash big stuff like that, it seems like maybe just like a purse or book sized item, maybe. And then the floors are paper thin. So I'm sure they can hear me bitching about them, I don't really care because it's stressful for me to have someone selling drugs above me. I just want the benefit of being able to decide when to surround myself with that shit. I hate having it pushed in my face when I'm not prepared. And because it's looking like I'll probably have to wait for my tax return until I can afford to buy a car and get my own apt., if he shoves it in Mike's face it affects me too. Ever since I found out he was going to start selling that shit my stress level has skyrocketed. Mikey's always bitching about it or saying he wants some. He hasn't used yet but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. And I hate that shit. I've only ever really thought I might die when I was doing coke a few times. That shit can get scary when you're booting it. I want nothing to do with it. Mike can do what he wants once I'm not living here, but until then...not cool.

(Aside: Jesus, I just applied a face mask. And the f'n thing is kind of not as much pleasant as a violent assault on the senses. There, like, alcohol in it and it's making it very difficult to breathe in my small bathroom. I need air.)

I know I sound like a whiny ass pussy right now. I am ,basically. I really don't want to work another night at that stupid job, I just want to chill and get my shit together for my new job. I've worked there three days but start full time on Dec. 7th. I actually really like it. The owner is definitely a little weird, but maybe he'll grow on me when I'm not so nervous about just starting and having to make a good impression. I haven't really even spent that much time with him yet. He wasn't there on Saturday. I worked with the produce manager, an older, maybe in his sixties, man who seems picky and old-fashioned but very, very nice. He is obviously a hard worker who is also, probably, extremely reliable and trustworthy. And then there is a girl/woman named Eva who is a produce worker. She trained me so far in the produce area. She just recently graduated from Keene State, as far as I've can gather from the snippets of conversation we've been able to have while working. But so far I really like her. She's calm and easy-going, and down to earth(which is totally cliche, but whatever). She's easy to be around which is important if we're going to be working together. I get along pretty well with other women in most environments like work or school. I try to be a girls girl, as opposed to the type of woman who will ditch her girlfriends for a guy. I know some people who know me will say I haven't always lived up to that ideal, and I'd have to admit they were right. But I really try. When I've let the girls down for a guy, though, in my defense, it was always a guy I really, really loved, not just some passing fancy. I'm not sure that really makes it okay. But anyway, my point is that she seems the same way. I'm a pretty good judge of character. I generally know when someone is shady or not. I don't always make the most thoughtful decisions regarding such people, but I always know when I'm taking a risk with someone. The only other person I've worked with is a general worker named Peter. Also, from the little we've spoken, I think he also just graduated from Keene State. Both of them are able to be teachers, but work at the health food store instead. I guess I have to understand that because I could see myself doing the same silly thing. At least they're only in their twenties. Here I am, thirty years old, almost thirty-f'n-one (I feel so freakin OLD!) I know I'm not really that old (especially considering people just keep living longer and longer these days) but I could be a lot healthier and a lot more accomplished by now.
But anyhow, Peter trained me on my very first day on which we were directed by the Boss Man to put away a grocery order together. He showed me the general layout and where to put stuff and find stuff, where EXACTLY (and this is very important, per Boss Matt, that price stickers are placed in very precise locations on each product. He wants the customer to have to pick up the item to find the price. He claims that once they have the item in their hand, that's half the battle of getting them to make the purchase. I disagree, I hate having to search for a f'n price tag. Do they want to sell shit or play games? WTF?)to put the price tags. Of course I did as I was told as if it made all the sense in the world. Peter is generally pretty agreeable, I can't complain about him as a trainer or co-worker unless of course, dear readers, you can understand how uncomfortable it can sometimes be to work in the company of an absurdly good-looking man. I mean, he's like, Calvin Klein underwear model good-looking. He's tall with almond eyes and light brown hair. It's not normal for someone to be that unnaturally hot. It's just not right. Of course he has a girlfriend, who is probably stunning and tall and athletically slender. And she probably has perfect skin. I'm jealous of her and I don't even know her. How lame is that? But, of course, I promptly told him I lived with someone so he didn't feel uncomfortable. I mean it wasn't the first thing I said, obviously, but I did not flirt or in any way act inappropriately, nor will I ever. I will only admire from afar. Besides being painfully self-conscious and shy with hot men, I would never move in on a taken man unless it was totally, undeniably meant to be. But that doesn't stop my palms and pits from sweating when he leans across me to place a tub of oatmeal on the shelf. I'm sure I'll get ahold of myself over time, as the reality of how far fetched a fantasy it is to think he would ever be interested in me anyhow. Talk about beauty and the beast...

Anyhow, I'm really happy to be working days, normal length days at that. We have every Sunday off I guess. I thought it was open, but I guess that was just the Sunday before the holiday last week, which is why I was confused. So that's cool. Although I would work whenever, just no more third shift. There's at least a bathroom and reliable heat. And people to talk to. And a discount, twenty percent, which is pretty generous really. So I've already started buying some of my food there. I hope to eventually get most of it there. I used to be so concerned with my health, I was so fit and healthy until about five years ago. With the addiction and the methadone, I just got lost and stuck and unhealthy. I need to find my way back to my original values, at least the ones that were positive for me. I hat being fat. I'm so unhappy. Not that I'm all that fat compared to the general public. But I feel like shit. And I know why. I eat like shit, sleep like shit, and generally neglect my health. That being said, I need to suck it up and go make my breakfast/dinner and get some sleep. I promise to make an effort to write more as my life calms down and gains some semblance of normalcy.

I want to write about this book I'm reading which is making me consider becoming a vegetarian again. At least all but on special occasions when I know the meat came from a local farm where the animal was also butchered locally by someone I know, so I know that the animal wasn't tortured. The meat industry is seriously Fucked! But that's for another post.

Despite all my bitching and complaining, I know I'm taking steps in a better direction. I'm at least putting myself in a job where I can make new friends and I'm not totally isolated, Mikey's little mommy/housekeeper/cheerleader, anymore. I won't be so drained by my job anymore that I can't even consider looking for ways out or signing up for classes. I will be able to actually take classes soon. I can walk to the campus from my new job, so I could take some evening classes. I also want to take yoga classes after work. I've been looking into possible classes around town, there are plenty, but my stupid job interfered with them. Well, not anymore. I am definitely on a better track than I was, anything would be better than that place, almost.

Sorry if this was a crazy, all over the place rant that made no sense. It's what I do best.