Hi, You

Smile :)

What to do?

Ah, Wednesday. You are such a neutral day. Middle of the week. Not far enough through it to be happy that it is over, but still far enough to be glad it isn't Monday. I find my hatred of Mondays to be a strange thing. I, for your information, am a server/bartender. My week typically ends on a Monday, rather than starting over, but to be quite honest, I have always found the end of a week to be the hardest. My job, of late, has worn my nerves down to the point that I take everything as an attack. Well, not everything. But I have caught myself making oh-so-many mean faces at people for their average comments. How do you get out of these funks? My go to therapy of the last 7 years has been to stay up late cleaning, watch Waiting while munching on all of the comfort food in my possession, and a gratuitous amount of (thrifty) retail therapy. I'm not one of those bartenders who makes 200 a night. Oh no, I'm much more...modest, shall we say? J/k, I suck at communication. Self loathing, walls up, introverted, shy to the Nth degree. But, hey, I can clear out that service well and talk smack all day long. Just don't make me pry the words out of you, or you are dining and drinking on your own.

For reals, though, eventually I will find a direction and a motive for this blog. For tonight, it is my outlet because I....
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I am really freaking awkward! You know those things you secretly judge other people for? Ever do them yourself and immediately hate yourself? Well, long story short, that happened, and I ended up judging myself for being one of those clingy, awkward, desperate facebookers.  "How," you ask? I asked a coworker about their schedule and to hang out...via comments. On their post about going to the beach. So, I am basically judging myself as being whiny (for having to work) and desperate (for publicly asking her to hang out, which is basically like "Oh, you can't turn me down in front of people.")

For clarity purposes, since I got married and moved away from my childhood home and college town and everyone I've ever known, I apparently threw up my walls to everyone but my husband. I don't remember how to make friends, and it is like pulling organs from my body to make plans with people. Not sure if this is depression, ptsd, hermitage, or just old age, but it has made me seriously insecure. There are some other factors, rude people who sort of destroyed my world view of gumdrops and lollipops, and a (prior to the husband) history of being a recluse with depression, but I live a very undramatic life.

I needed that rant. My appologies. Advice accepted.

In other news, I am very excited to attend an old friend's wedding in a couple weeks. The wedding is in Alabama, and if I plan this correctly, I will get to visit my grandmother's home in the middle of nowhere, AL. I haven't been there since I was maybe 14 or 15, and it is one of the most beautiful places on the planet to me. I can just feel it, the sun on my face, the smell of the country air, tall grass, dirt road, the old pine house..Everything inside of me is just begging to see that place again, to feel that sense of belonging and safety and love. Even if the people are no longer there, the love just permeated those walls for decades, long before I came along. I miss it.

Where is your favorite place, oh persevering reader? Where do you feel safest, like you most belong?

( I thank you for sticking it out. In time, I will get less random. Maybe tomorrow. Today, I am a little scattered and insecure.)

Sleeping Fail.

So, it's 4:25, and I can't make myself sleep. Granted, the laptop shining a light on my face and providing entertainment probably isn't helping much. Or my growling tummy.

In other news, the weather decided to be fallish again this week, which I find to be quite exciting. I can't wait to start Christmas shopping and decorating, although I have no room for a tree and the cats always climb it, knock it over, and bat the ornaments around the apartment. I found shattered silver balls behind every peice of furniture in January. They are nothing, if not thorough.

Now that it's finally November, I'm beginning my countdown. The boyfriend will be home in one month and 16 days, I believe. This is still entirely too long, but I find that I blur my weeks together, so my theory is that this month will speed by with me still thinking I'm in the first week or so. That's how it works every other regular month. Ah, monotony, you are such a wonderful thing.

For realsies, though, I believe it is time to crash.