Tuesday, March 29, 2011
My Arms And Legs Are A Little Tired... Can You Throw Me A Floatie?
Agitated. That's such a nice word… it's so much better than saying I want to throw something through a window.
A recent Facebook status update I wrote talked about how much I dislike transitioning. This is not to say that I dislike change because I don't. In fact, I find change to be incredibly fun and refreshing. I think change is good and vital. I've never really been able to relate to those who want things to be the same all the time, with no ripples or movement of current. I feel like living this way would cause me to miss out on some of the most exciting opportunities that life has to offer.
However, the process of change is what frustrates me the most. Getting from point A to point B can be aggravating, stressful and exhausting. Even more so when I feel like my next step is either sideways or backwards. There seems to be a lot less fun in that.
I spent close to two hours today filling out an online application for a bartending position at a casino here in Las Vegas. I remember doing this when I first moved here six years ago. At that time, they asked for ten years of employment and residency history. I guess the current state of the economy has caused them to be more lenient as they are only asking for seven years this time. Wonderful.
I sat there, with a pen and paper, straining my poor little brain to remember which job I had during which month… where I was living at the time… the addresses of these random places… and how long I was at each particular job/home. When I finished, I was looking at a pretty accurate reflection of my last seven years as a gypsy. I fought pretty hard to fight back tears.
I wouldn't hire me. Are you kidding? If I was looking for a new employee and had a thousand different applicants to choose from, I would take one look at the information in front of me and put it quickly in the "hell no" pile. I look unstable, unreliable and clearly appear to have no direction in life whatsoever. My skimpy two year degree is in a field that I've never pursued as a career and my job history for the last seven years is easily comparable to a Dalmatian's coat. Even my references are sketchy as I've known the longest for seven years.. then five… then two. Ugh… even to me, it looks like a stretch.
I suppose the most frustrating part about all of this is that I know what a great employee I am. I AM reliable. I AM stable and I do pretty good work wherever I'm at. The problem is… I hate working.
I know, I know… we all hate working. But I hate it on a completely different level. I don't see the point in it. I see absolutely no purpose in getting dressed up in a suit every day, sitting at a desk for eight to ten hours for five to six days a week, begging for the weekend to show up so I can spend the whole time doing laundry and catching up on errands and sleep and then getting up on Monday morning to do it all over again. I don't understand the reward in this. Money? All the money in the world hardly seems worth all the time put it in doing something I could care less about.
I lived this life. I tried to be a career woman. I had pantyhose, high heels, jewelry, a fake smile, the whole nine yards. I pretended I was someone important… I pretended like my job mattered and that what I was doing served some kind of real purpose. Inside, though… I knew that I wasn't doing anything substantial. I sold hotel rooms for a big chain. I ripped people off when the hotel was in a slow period and needed to make more money. I sat and listened to clients talk about themselves over drinks and food and laughed like I actually gave a shit about what they were saying. I wore a fancy suit and thought it meant that I WAS somebody.
The truth was, I hated what I was doing. I would put a sign on my office door that said "Come back later. I am on sales calls", put my phone off the hook and lay my head on my desk for an hour. I would surf the internet, looking for something that might pass the time. I would watch the clock until it hit 5:00pm and race home so I could smoke a bowl and chill out before I had to get up the next day and do it all over again.
And I still managed to meet and exceed my quota, receive honors for outstanding performance and even make Manager of the Quarter during my time.
Is this a joke??
So I left all that behind and now I'm just trying to scrape up a job that will pay me enough to cover my bills and let me go out two or three times a week to sing karaoke. Maybe even leave me twenty bucks or so to put in a machine and try to hit a Royal Flush. Nice life, huh? And oh, the irony… now I'm competing with so many other people who don't have the education, desire or means for a "career-type job" and I am coming off as an undesirable hire. Awesome.
The victim rears her head… I get mad that Jeremy came into my life and threw all that money at me. I get mad that I quit my piece of shit job at Chili's with the expectation that I was actually going to make something out of myself before the money was gone. I get mad that I didn't do anything except have fun, write whenever I wanted and spend money on things I didn't need. I get mad that I don't have the drive or ambition to do anything because I don't see the purpose in any of it. I get mad at everyone who is thinking "I told you so."
Is this why so many women choose to have a family? So they can feel a sense of purpose?
Agitated…. yep. That's me.
Ever feel like you are trying to tread water just long enough to make it through life? Thankfully, my cardio is pretty solid right now.
As always, I know there is a responsible side to all of this. I even know what it is… but even I get tired of being responsible sometimes. I am frustrated that I am not willing to do what it takes to make something out of myself. Going back to school seems pointless as I don't want to learn a new trade. Even when I get a job as a server or bartender, I'll dread having to deal with people again and their "12% is a good tip" mentality.
I don't even want to find a job as a writer because I don't want people to tell me what to say or how to say it. I want to sit here in this coffee shop, drink my Caramel Macchiato, write this blog and have enough money in my bank account all the time to cover anything I need. Am I fucking naive or what?
My options? Meditate? Pray? Tell myself I'm worthy? Create a powerful and prosperous life through positive thinking?
Or just keep treading?
On days like today, all my options seem to have a bit of a matte finish.
I guess my only comfort is knowing that everything is going to be okay… because it always is. Story of my life… things are always okay and I always have enough to get by. While I know this is more than a lot of people have, I wish I was able to change my thinking to create something more substantial. I truly believe we have exactly what we feel like we deserve to have. Which causes me much frustration… I constantly feel like I'm just chasing my tail.
How do we convince ourselves that we deserve more? That we are worthy of everything we have ever wanted? That we are so much better than what we settle for?
As soon as you find out, can you let me know? Because right when I think I have it down, the Universe laughs at me.
I'll be waiting.
Posted by Tina V at 7:20 PM