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You know those really thin plastic bags you get from the grocery store to put your veggies in?

I totally just turned on the toaster with one of those bags kind of... near it, like, almost on it but not quite.

They melt, by the way. Really quickly.

Anyway.

My Great And Wonderful Plan is totally screwed. How screwed? Oh, let me count the ways.

Well, there's my car. If I get my car fixed and registered and insured, it'll max out my credit card. I don't really want to do that, because that would leave me completely screwed if anything else comes up.

I have spent ALL of the money from the loan I took out on the house. I have not even remotely paid the loan off. (To be fair to me, paying the loan off by now certainly wasn't part of the original plan to begin with) I still cannot do anything else with the other house because I am still stalled by stupid zoning bullshit and the like.

The idea was supposed to be that by the end of the summer I would move into the other house, because it would actually be mostly livable by then because it would have been being worked on all summer, and I would rent out both floors of this house for the winter, and then by NEXT summer I would be renting out both floors of this house and two floors of that house all to tourists and all by the week, and THAT is how I would start paying everything off.

APPARENTLY NOT.

I went to the Coffee Co this morning to pick up my paycheck. I'll get another check from them on Friday, and then that's the end of that. That's six hundred dollars a month I won't have. By September I won't be getting the money from renting my upstairs anymore either. I can, hopefully, rent it to someone for the winter, but it certainly won't be the income it's been all summer.

If I spent ACTUAL money on fixing my car and all that, then I wouldn't have any ACTUAL money. But if I have no transportation (and the trolley doesn't run in the winter either) then how am I ever going to find another job, unless it's just down the street or something? I already inquired at pretty much every place of business within a ten-block radius - no one is hiring permanently. Couple places are hiring seasonal, but at this point, that's, like, two months. Which I'm torn between taking, and then starting the job search again in the fall (which is practically impossible since everyone downsizes in the fall), and ignoring, because what I really need is a non-seasonal job, and something that doesn't rely on tourism to sustain it, like... I don't even know what that would be anymore.

I need a "real job," is what it comes down to. Not a "kid job." Which means I need transportation. Blegh.

I AM IN OVER MY HEAD. I swore that I would not be, and, look at that, I AM.

And what, pray tell, has been occupying my every thought these days? No, not really my car, or finding a job. Not whatever disaster of a mess I've gotten myself into with Bevan. Nope.

I'm still writing that god-awful fanfic.

Which... feels good to be writing, but at the same time, damn, could I waste any more time?

Blegh.
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You want to know what happened to me at work today?

Well, it was my last day at the Coffee Co, that's what.

I got to work, went inside, and Kiva (my manager) said Renee (the owner, and my manager at the other store) was there and needed to talk to me. I was like, uh, okay, whatever, and Renee gave me this little prepared speech about how I can't just pick and choose when I want to work, if I'm scheduled to work I need to come in or get my shift covered, and that "reliability has been a problem" with me and not showing up yesterday was the icing on the cake, and I can consider myself officially no longer an employee of the Coffee Co.

I call bullshit. Reliability has never "been an issue" with me. There have been three times, in the year and a half I've worked for her, that I haven't come to work. One, when I had to go to court. Two, I missed three days and I had a doctor's note, and three, yesterday. And as for yesterday, I said specifically to Kiva on Monday, "if I stay today, I am not coming in tomorrow." She did not say "if you don't come in tomorrow, you're fired." And lets not forget the reason I had to stay so late on Monday was because other people called out at the last minute. And then there are all those times Shaina called out the morning of her shift because she wanted to take her kids to the park or some shit like that. I am not unreliable. I have never heard of a job where only one employee is never allowed to take days off, never allowed to call in sick, never allowed to have a vacation or whatever. Other people do it all the time, I, for some reason, am always required to cover for people who are taking days off, and have never been allowed to take a day off myself. I was also hired with the understanding that I had the five am shift until a new person was hired - three new people were hired and I never got off the five am shift. When I "got moved" to the other store, to which I had no transportation to, I also had the five am shift every day. Everyone else rotated, they each got one five am shift a week. I got one every day. Kiva said it was because Renee told her those are the shifts I wanted. Which is bullshit, of course - my second job is at night, why would I want a five am shift? They trolley doesn't start running until seven, why would I want a five am shift?

And the really messed up thing is, I LIKED that job. )

And now I'm home. And I'm still kind of stunned about getting fired. I've never gotten fired before, ever. And I really want to know what happened to all those people who called out on Monday and made me have to stay so late - I bet you anything they still have jobs. Not really sure what I'm going to do about money. I'm not going to make enough. I should be more worried than I actually am, I think. Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet or something.
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Yep. That's the problem in society today. It's Red Bull.

Makes us think we don't need to sleep.

Makes us think we can do anything.

Masquerades as a soda! A soda? More like an Angel of Light, I tell you!

Makes us go until we crash and crash until we burn...

But not me, guys. I never burn. )

I really hate how Red Bull tastes, but it isn't bad when mixed with mango vodka.

I really love how I achieved that perfect level of drunkenness.

But I think I'm swearing off the stuff anyway.
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I still can't believe I went to a strip club and I still can't believe how much I enjoyed it, despite being uncomfortable with being there...

That's not the source of my dissatisfaction.

So today I came home from work (I took the trolley, cause Erica did not come pick me up, cause 'we're fighting.' We have spoken since last week - it just didn't go well. Whatever. She is under no obligation to come pick me up from work every week anyway.) and went upstairs to clean up after the weekend's renters. The new ones are up there already right now. I've been really, really lucky at how well people have been keeping the place. I'm kinda scared every time I go up there that I'm going to find something missing or trashed or otherwise horrible. Basically the worst think I've encountered has been food left in the fridge. I think people leave stuff in there cause they think they're doing the next occupants a favor (or they rationalize not wanting to throw stuff out that way) but really, I can't leave it in there - you wanna rent a shore house for the week and find stuff already in the fridge? That's just nasty. But I hate throwing food away.

Strangely, beer never seems to get left behind :P

With the exception of that mystery Guinness, that is.

I was planning on then coming back down here and cleaning my own house - I really need to do that. I've been telling myself that I can live however I want, I live alone, it's not like I have a room mate who's desires for cleanliness need to be respected. It's not like it's so filthy down here that the board of heath is going to stamp and "unlivable" notice on my front door (kinda like what's posted on the door of my other house, the one I'm still stalled on fixing up because of local county BS...). If I don't mind the mess, then what's the big deal, right?

At first it was kinda relaxing not having to worry about making a mess and picking stuff up. Daniel used to be literally psycho about that kind of thing. He would throw my stuff out if I left it out. He'd do stuff like, if I left dishes in the sink he'd wake me up and make me go wash them RIGHT THEN or omg the world was going to end. I don't need to be that extreme. But seriously, people have been coming to my house a whole lot more than I ever expected, and I'm starting to understand why: one, I live right next to the beach. Two, I live alone, so there's no parents or room mates to wake up or annoy. Once people realized that I live alone and that I own this house, they seem to be really into coming over. I still don't know what to think about the percentage of people I know around here who live with their parents. My opinion on that is still pending.

I didn't clean up down here. I went to sleep instead - I just woke up.

And the complete dissatisfaction I'm feeling is in reference to my job. My jobS. Both of them. )

Ok, I'm about ranted out now, sorry for that.

What does it say about me that I intend to spend my evening reading SPN fanfic while watching SPN?
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Look, I don't have any type of problem with Starbucks. I really, honestly don't. I haven't had any Starbucks in a while - well, the last time I had something from Starbucks I was on my way to Matt's for his family's picnic - we stopped at a rest stop on the turnpike.

And yeah, I had this reflective moment where I was like, ah, I like those little Starbucks double shots in the can drinks, and now Starbucks has a double shot on ice in, you know, fresh form, too, and I wondered how long that had been a available, and then I thought about how I never see Starbucks stuff anymore cause there is no Starbucks on the island, and since I don't drive, I pretty much don't leave the island, so how would I know what Starbucks has and doesn't have?

Then I just left it alone and drank my caffeine :P

But Wawa and Starbucks seem to be fighting because Wawa never has the Starbucks double shots anymore, but they're all over the boardwalk and the corner stores and stuff... anyway. Moving on.

I kind of resent having to learn Starbucks-ian in order to make people the drinks they want. "Triple grande dulce de leche frappucino" isn't supposed to mean anything to me - THAT'S NOT ON OUR MENU! "Venti half-caf non-fat vanilla latte" isn't on our menu either... in this store, we have small, medium, and large. My not knowing what the hell size "venti" is supposed to be is NOT an indication that I'm stupid - it simply means that I don't frequent Starbucks so often that I have their menu memorized!

In fact, the first time someone ordered a "venti" I was like, you want... the 20 oz cup? (Cause venti is Italian for twenty...) and the person was like, no, the venti, do you understand me?

"Triple grande" apparently means a medium espresso drink made with an extra espresso shot. We have that on our menu. It says "available in small, medium, and large - add an extra shot for 45 cents!" Imagine that.

I'm also getting pretty fed up with this one woman who works at one of the nearby stores who always gets her cappucino with extra foam - I make it with extra foam, hand it to her, she takes off the lid, looks inside, hands it back, and says, "excuse me, this was supposed to have extra foam." AND IT DOES, LADY! REMEMBER, THAT'S HOW YOU ORDERED IT?

And while I'm talking about people who can't read menus, we have this thing where we do free refills on coffee. Coffee. Not everything. Just the coffee. The only people who really take advantage of this are people who work on the boardwalk - they come in for refills all the time. Every so often someone else will bring their cup in for a refill. But it's pretty rare - most people don't drink hot coffee out on the beach in the hot sun, or even iced coffee. So no, if you bring me back your "triple grande nonfat vanilla latte" cup, it does NOT say you get a free refill. "Grande" is also not a size on our menu. Which you should know, since you read it, or, wait, you only read the part about "free refills."

Fun times, guys. Fun times.
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Today I was told by a customer that Starbucks actually owns the coffee shop I work in and that it just doesn't have the Starbucks name on it because the city won't allow a Starbucks because it wants to preserve it's image or something.

This is the same person who ordered in Starbucks-ian instead of, you know, off OUR menu, and I was like, "haha, that's Starbucks, we have x, y, and z here, which would you prefer?"

So, for the record, actually no, Starbucks does not secretly own my workplace. I know this because I WORK THERE.
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Ok, well, time to assess what just may have been a poor decision on my part:

Two jobs, Lara? Really, two?

Well, yeah, two. I've got expenses, you know. I've got a huge-ass loan I'm making payments on - the way I try to justify this to myself is I've got to think of it like paying a mortgage: that is a loan, is it not? Well, I own this house, but the loan was necessary to make it possible to actually live in this house. I have credit card debt - I'm not exactly trying to pay it off, per se, because a good portion of it is all house-related things that I put on the credit card with the theory of "needing to have money to make money." I have... unpaid medical bills, too, of course - I owe money all over the damn place, and it's expensive to keep up with it all.

I have to pay the electric bill and the internet bill and the phone bill, and you know, besides that, I do buy groceries and stuff, too. I'm really bad at eating, but really, I do try to do that too. It's good for you. I have to pay people to drive me around, too - and honestly, I'm paying less than I'd be paying for gas and insurance and registration anyway. Especially for insurance. I'm expensive to insure, because I'm such a shitty driver to begin with.

SO YES. TWO JOBS.

I babble. I don't know why I even posted all this crap )

So

May. 2nd, 2008 05:49 pm
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So I got written up at work (restaurant) for not coming in the other night.

Which totally wasn't my fault.

I hate that shit. I hate having to rely on other people to drive me around. And I hate getting in trouble. I hate trying to make excuses for why I did something wrong - I did something wrong, I didn't come in to work and didn't call until about a half hour before my shift started. So yes, of course I'm in the wrong, even though it wasn't my fault, and I still feel all pissed and defensive and just generally shitty about it. I hate getting in trouble. I was the kid who cried when she got her name put on the board in elementary school. Seriously.

So now I've been written up at the coffee co for being on my phone behind the counter, and written up at the restaurant for not showing up for my shift. When the only reason I was on the phone in the first place was because Renee wouldn't let me leave, even though I wasn't even supposed to be working in the first place, and I missed my ride to my other job and I was calling to tell them why I wasn't there.

Why am I completely unable to be a regular old reliable person? Why must I constantly screw everything up? These are simple jobs - an idiot should be able to do them with their eyes closed. And yet I manage to get written up by both of them.

How bad is it, really, to drive a car with expired registration and no insurance with a suspended license?

...ok typing it all out like that, well, I don't really have to ask. I know it's really bad.

I should just sell the damn thing and be done with it.
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I would like to learn to stand up for myself at work.

And I would like to learn to form my own opinions of myself.

That would be really great.

This is getting really long and I've had a shitty day besides )

And I need to go the fuck to sleep, cause I've been up since... well I left for work at four thirty this morning. By eight am I was asleep but at nine I woke up again, so, not counting that hour or so? I've been up since yesterday afternoon.
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Last night:

Oh, I stared at my phone for a while. Thinking about calling people. Freaked myself out, kinda, I mean, I was behaving like someone with a social disorder, or anxiety problems, or something. Yes, I have problems. We all have problems. But anxiety is not normally something I think I struggle with. And I'm not scared of social situations, I'm just bad at them.

But I called Bevan eventually. And it was stupid. I had nothing to say. I had nothing to suggest we do. And I am a poor conversationalist. I hate cell phones. I remember the days when you called someone, and if they weren't home, they didn't answer. So if they did answer, you knew they were at home and answered the phone because they wanted to talk on it. Now I don't know if someone's at the supermarket and just holding the phone on their ear for the hell of it, or what.

I explained to Bevan that I was going nuts from boredom and he was like, well, city girl, you have to get used to it here. THERE IS NOTHING TO DO. If he wanted to hang out, he would have been like, "hey, lets hang out." But he did not. He did, however, attempt to sustain a conversation with me, and stuff. For about five minutes. So that, right there, ladies and gentlemen, was the highlight of my day yesterday: I talked to Beven on the phone.

The highlight of my day today (so far, who knows, maybe I'll do something fun and exciting tonight, or something... blegh. Maybe I'll go for a walk, or play some b-ball or something, too) was working late this morning. So I haven't seen Shaina (Shaina being the moronic co-worker of mine at the coffee shop) since that time I really lost it on her. I still can't believe I actually did that. I mean, there's getting angry, and there's putting your foot down. There's being mean, and I'll admit, I can be pretty mean, but then there's totally losing it. Totally losing it is pretty embarrassing. So Shaina starts work at nine am. I get done with work at seven am. But what's-her-name couldn't come in today - her kid was sick, or something? So I stayed. And I worked with Shaina.

Who asked me if I was enjoying my "time off." I let that one slide. Even when she kept going with it, all, "oh, just imagine, how nice it would be to have the whole day to yourself, you could do x, and y, and z..."

No, bitch, it's not nice, I'm not making any money, and you know what else? I can't do x, because x is go out to lunch, and I have no friends to go out to lunch with. I can't do y, because y is go shopping, and I have no car to haul my shopping bags around in and I'm not carrying them around with me because I don't want to irritate my shoulder, and besides, I have no funds allocated for shopping - I'm not making any money! And, I can't do z, because z is sit back and relax, and I never fucking relax. For very long, anyway. I get too antsy.

So there is this man who comes in for coffee around ten am. Not every day, but a few times a week. And Shaina's got some kind of crush on him. She put her phone number on the cup holder once. And whatever, she's married and so is he. But she talks about him so much, and how they have this magical bond and stuff, and how about he comes in while she's in the back eating soup and he says hi to me, says he thought maybe I didn't work there anymore since he hadn't seem me in a while, and then asks me I'm lucky I'm not working with the fat cow today.

Yep. He called her a fat cow.

I cracked up so bad that she heard me and came back to the counter and was all, "oh, hello, how are you sir, blah blah blah" and I swear he rolled his eyes.

And THAT was the highlight of my day today.

God, I'm so boring!

Work

Apr. 22nd, 2008 02:25 pm
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So, this morning at work I finally got myself to speak to Renee about my hours. I really didn't know how the conversation was going to go because I had no idea what she was going to say to me and I still don't really understand what her problem with me is in the first place. I've been a good employee. I do everything I'm supposed to do. So I don't understand why she can't treat me decently. But she really hasn't been. And it's been before I missed those days from work and she cut my hours down to two hours a day. She just watches me like she's waiting for me to do something wrong, and gets on my case about every single thing, and it's unnerving, because I know I'm already doing everything right to begin with, but she will sometimes accuse me of doing stuff I didn't do, and sit me down for a talk about it, and stuff like that.

So the big explanation for cutting my hours like that? Oh just that she's going to "use me in the other store when it opens." That's just how she said it, don't worry about your hours, I'm going to use you in the other store. Meaning, at the other store, I'll get plenty of hours, and just wait till it opens up, but see... I DONT WANT TO WORK AT THE OTHER STORE!

Nobody wants to go work at the other store. We all work at the store in town because that's where we want to work. She can hire anyone she wants to go work on the boardwalk store - it's not exactly hard to find summer help. There are gonna be plenty of high school kids wanting jobs for the summer and stuff, not to mention the kids who spend the whole summer here cause their parents have shore homes. I don't know, I never worked at the boardwalk store, but to hear everyone else talk about it, it sucks because the customers are all rude self entitled tourists instead of the people who come in who, you know, live and work here.

But I specifically do not want to work at the boardwalk store cause it's over twenty blocks away and I told her that. And she said she only hires people who can drive, so she can be sure reliability won't be a problem, and when she hired me I could drive and I should have known I could have been scheduled at the other store and blah blah blah. Now, I did assure her when I got hired I would always be able to go to work. But I had a driver's license then. And besides that, I only live a few blocks away, so getting to work hasn't been a problem. But it's about to become one! Twenty blocks? I don't know if I have the energy for that every morning... and, damnit, even if there was nothing wrong with my shoulder I think doing that twice a day would probably cause some kind of problem - I know Renee's been getting on my case a lot for a while but I really feel like all this started when I missed work because of my shoulder.

I guess I really didn't have to stay home, is what it comes down to. The doctor told me to, but you know, he didn't really listen to me when I explained to him where I work and what I do there. He just made the generic statement, stay home from work and don't do anything strenuous for the next few days. I could have gone to work. I don't do anything strenuous there. Of course, I'd have to walk there, and really, that's what I was trying to avoid, cause that's what I think makes my shoulder hurt so much, but if I could have just walked there those three days, then I wouldn't have to worry about walking twenty blocks to the other store.

I should just quit and get a new job lined up for summer.

But I like being a barista. That's like, my thing. That's my hip-cool non-conformist-type unskilled labor job, my I-don't-feel-so-bad-about-not-having-a-real-job cause my job is a cool job job.
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After three days or working two hour shifts at ungodly-early hours, well, I'm about to go stir-crazy. I mean, I had a lot of free time as it was, between my two jobs, and I felt like a lady of leisure or something, sitting around, reading fanfiction, listening to music, putzing around, working on the house, whatever. Now? Now I'm starting to feel like a big loser who does nothing productive all day long. It's starting to be quite discouraging.

I'm thinking Renee is trying to get me to quit.

Which is a shame. Cause I like being a barista. I like it and I don't suck at it. People like me and they like my drinks. I have a good time at work. I don't like being a hostess. I don't suck at that either, I mean, it's pretty much a stupid person's job - and believe me, my restaurant employs a fair share of stupid people - I do a lot of regulating of the host staff. And I'm not naturally a bossy, know it all type, I promise! But some of these girls have no common sense, no sense of urgency, no people skills, nada. Of course, a good deal of them are high school students, so maybe it's just a matter of needing to grow up a little, I don't know. But hosting is not a fun job. I do not like it. It's a shit job. People are downright nasty to me all night long, and it sucks. It's all I can do not to snap in people's faces sometimes.

The idea was that I was going to quit the restaurant job when Sima and Patrice moved out, because I would have no way to get there anyway, and, since summer was coming, I was going to work full time for the coffee co. Well, with my eight hour work week, it doesn't seem like that's going to be a possibility. Never mind that Renee said that's what would happen for the summer. Obviously I've said something or done something to get on her shit list. I don't see how calling out of work, with a doctor's note, could really be the issue here, so it must be something else that I'm totally unaware of.

Not this coming weekend, but the next weekend, is OMG PAINT TEH HOUSE weekend. And by the weekend after that, there should be new carpet and all my stuff should be moved downstairs and Sima and Patrice will be gone.

...I don't know whether or not to sell Sima my car. He's said all winter that he'd buy it from me. Wtf am I going to do with it if I can't drive it? But then again, it's really a nice car for something that's not brand new. Should I save it for when I get my license back, and hope that's sooner rather than later? On one hand I want the money, but on the other hand I'm like, Lara, you don't need more money, you have money, quit worrying.

Except all my bills and expenses were figured out on what I was making, not what I'm going to make this week with my mini-workdays. Wtf Renee. Seriously. Wtf.
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So yesterday morning I woke up with my right shoulder hurting. That's right, my right shoulder. Not my left shoulder.

WTF???

But, I took my muscle relaxer, and eventually it felt tolerable.

BUT FIRST. Ok see here is how my day went yesterday. I had to be at work at 5am. Ok, so, I left the house in plenty of time to get to work on time. I was not late. I am very rarely ever late. My boss, Renee, is late at least once a week. I think I've bitched about that before. So let me just say one more time that I was not late. In fact, I was probably a few minutes early. And the doors are unlocked and the lights are on, so I figure Renee is there already. Which is rare - usually she and I arrive at the same time, or I get there first. I go inside - it's Renee and Other Girl opening up. And I'm like... hi? And she's like oh, Lara, what are you doing here? We don't need you today, I have Other Girl coming in for you all week. And I was like, well, we spoke on the phone, remember, and I told you I was coming back today, here is all my documentation, doctor's note, etc.

And she just looked at me, didn't take the papers from me, and was like, "I said I didn't need you today."

And I was like, ok, well, when we spoke on the phone, you didn't say anything about me not coming in today.

And she was like, well, you said you couldn't work, so I had to get your shifts covered.

And I was like, yes, but I still don't see what that has to do with today.

So, screw you, Renee, this will now be a whole week of not working, and so this will be a skipped paycheck. Not a small paycheck, a skipped paycheck. No money.

So I stopped in the back to look at next week's schedule, just to make sure. Usually I work Monday-Friday at 5am, but my shift ends at a different time every day, totally randomly. Well next week she has me working 5-7. Yep, that's five am to seven am. Two hours every day. That's eight hours for the week. Usually I work about fifteen or twenty. EIGHT.

Like I said, though, my shoulder was really hurting and so I just left rather than say anything else to her, and went back home. Of course I couldn't sleep or anything, so I just screwed around all morning and got more and more pissy as the day went on.

Click to continue reading this long ass-entry. LOL I love doing that, sticking the hyphen in the wrong space! )

Anyway. Doctor Who hopefully tonight, definitely by tomorrow.
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So I did go to the doctor today (dear [livejournal.com profile] tenfeethigh, I also just wrote doctor with a capital D... and btw hope your finger starts feeling better...) and NOTHING DISASTROUS happened... I didn't get much information on what exactly the doctor thought was wrong with me, which is pretty much what I expected to happen, but he wrote me a prescription for some muscle relaxers, which I filled and promptly took and then fell asleep right away and woke up feeling better than I have in quite some time - he said if they didn't work after a few days to come back. They worked. I take it that's a very good sign. - He also wrote me a prescription for an x-ray and an MRI, which I had to call and make appointments for, OF COURSE like six weeks from now... and he wrote me a prescription for physical therapy, which... I am ambivalent about, but I guess I will go for a consult at least, if for no other reason than to see what a physical therapist says about the xray and mri...

I also got a note saying I'm allowed to return to work on Thursday, meaning that I'm not going to work tomorrow and Wednesday. I called the coffee co. and Renee made some comment about how "maybe you're just not cut out for this kind of job" and I was like "fuck you, I got hurt, it happens." No, actually I was like, "blah blah blah sorry, please let me keep my job" because I am pathetic like that. Either that or I am stubborn - she doesn't want me working there? Fine. I want to work there then. Funny, though, Vicky at the restaurant has no problem with me missing work, you know, for health reasons and didn't even ask me for a doctor's note. Go figure.

*Waves* hi to anyone who friended me from the Doctor Who comm! I've been going through some personal shit recently and I've really been unloading on this journal, but I swear, I'm not normally like this! And now that season four has started... *rubs hands together* so excited!

Alphabet meme from TenFeetHigh... )
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So today at work I told Shaina off in a fit of rage.

Really, I don't normally get like that. And it was hardly eloquent. I've had so many things I've wanted to bite her head off about that I've been saving up for something spectacular, but it really wasn't all that spectacular. In fact, I'm sure I looked like a complete idiot. And a half.

But I can't stand the way she talks to me, like she has this fabulous life and of course I have a fabulous life too - oh, you're not feeling well? Go get a check-up! Go to the medical center in Princeton, they're so wonderful there, oh, you should see doctor so-and-so, he did blah blah blah for me last year when I had this health problem that has nothing at all to do with yours, so you'll call up, and you'll tell them I told you to call, and use my maiden name, not my married name, you know, because my parents are soooo important, blah blah blah -

Again, got long so I cut this )

Why do I have to be such a fucking mess? Why can I not get a handle on myself? Why do I let a forty-year-old woman who never grew out of the my-daddy-says-I'm-a-little-princess phase of life get under my skin like that? What kind of twenty-four-year-old throws a tantrum at her little coffee-shop McJob?

I could be all like, wah, wah, I didn't feel good, I was in pain, I was overmedicated, whatever, but I don't take excuses from other people so since when should I start taking them from myself?

Control, Lara. Get some of that before you leave the house again.
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I am miserable. As in, mis-er-a-ble. Completely. I've had a fuck of a day. And I hurt. I mentioned I burned myself cooking? It hurts. It really hurts. It swelled up and blistered and now everything that brushes up against it hurts and it hurts even when nothing touches it and IT HURTS. Wah.

And MY SHOULDER HURTS. Again with the shoulder pain. Tonight it's my left shoulder. Actually, it's been my left shoulder for the past few days. In increasing amounts. At first it was just, meh, my shoulder hurts. Now I'm practically in tears. It's to the point where all across my back and all down my left arm feel weird and icy cold from the pain in my shoulder. I don't know what to do. I've already taken as many pain pills as I can - if I take more, I'll just get sick. They worked for, oh, two hours or so, but they've worn off now and I can't take anymore for another four and I am fucking MIS-ER-A-BLE. I don't know how I'm going to get to sleep tonight. I can hardly just sit still and type.

Work this morning (coffee shop) was not too bad, but work tonight (restaurant) was pretty god-awful. When I got there I was like, listen, I am not feeling well at all, is it absolutely necessary that I stay until close? And of course my manager was like, yes. Even though I'm not convinced it really was. I really, really try not to ask to go home, or call in sick or anything, because I don't want them to think I'm unreliable or anything, even if it's for health reasons. But I really, really should not have been at work tonight. Of course the other host let me just stand at the podium and take names, which was pretty pointless because the place just wasn't busy enough to need to take names in the first place - it sucked.

And I really don't know what to do about my shoulder hurting. It's hurt off and on like this for about a year now. It just started all of a sudden. Sometimes it stops, sometimes the other shoulder hurts instead (but never both) and I have all kinds of theories as to why this is happening and really, I guess I need to go to the doctor. But I'm kind of afraid the doctor will be like, well, your shoulder hurts because you put too much stress on it. You need to let it rest and give it a chance to heal. That, of course, is not what I want to hear, because "resting my shoulder" would pretty much amount to CRAWLING INTO A HOLE AND DIEING. Then again, the doctor could say nothing is wrong and it's all in my head. Cause if sometimes it doesn't hurt, and sometimes the OTHER SHOULDER hurts, well, that sounds like nothing is physically wrong, right? Or the doctor could say, this is all an effect from your last surgery, your nerves and muscles are confused, your brain is used to feeling pain so it's imagining your shoulder hurts because it can't register pain where it's used to feeling it - oh my imagination is just running wild with this.

I don't care about anything else right now. I don't care about meeting a pretty girl and telling her a story about a wide-mouthed frog. I don't care about Bevan not remembering having sex with me. I don't care about picking out furniture for my house. I just want to not be in pain - is that too much to ask? I understand that my body is never going to be normal again - I get that. But can I at least be assured that it's not getting worse? Cause it feels like it is. I feel like I'm falling the fuck apart. Like little by little every part of me is crumbling to pieces. When I said "I can do this," this is not what I had in mind.
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The Caffeine Click Test - How Caffeinated Are You?
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

Stolen from [livejournal.com profile] ithidrial, since, you know, I work in a coffee shop, I thought it was fitting.

For the record, I think I drank three coffees today, "coffee" meaning two shots plus milk and whatever in a 20oz cup. I definitely don't feel all that energized, though, let alone jittery. Probably since, you know, there's not much to do at work besides drink coffee, I must have become immune to caffeine all together or something.

I ramble about stuff here )
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Now If Only I Could Actually Say It To Shaina...

I. Just had the most horrible experience.

Okay. Not the most horrible. But it was pretty bad.

The ground is covered in ice. Everything is covered in ice. I'm cool with that. I'm really, really careful, it's fine, I've got it. Everyone slides on the ice a little. It's fine.

IT'S NOT FINE.

One of the first things I had done to my house was to have it split into two. The only way to get upstairs is to go up the stairs on the side of the house. The stairs that are, like everything else, covered in ice. AND I LIVE UPSTAIRS.

That little voice, the one that was telling me from the very beginning, Lara, this is not a good idea, Lara, you do not want to go up and down stairs every day, Lara, this is your house, you should fix up the first floor for yourself before anything else, yes, that voice, I should have listened to that one, not the one that said, Lara, you could rent the first floor this winter, you know, you need the money, you can handle the stairs, it won't be a problem...

So there was me, clinging to the railing and making a complete fool of myself trying to get upstairs, it was really... it was completely humiliating, actually. The way the ice had frozen made each step like an incline of ice, and it was, it was, it was... it was completely impossible. I could not do it. I quite possibly have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. Nothing says "I'm pathetic" more than knocking on your downstairs tenant's door and asking for help up the stairs. But I didn't know what else to do, and I was practically in tears just from the bitter cold, never mind the frustration and embarrassment and all the rest. I tried to pull it together a bit, but, seriously. I never want to repeat that ever again.

In which I make use of that thing called a cut, because I am going to unload like I never have before... )

Let me just daydream about my houses a little, or let me just daydream about friends that I don't have, oh, while I'm at it, let me just daydream about someday having a job that doesn't involve continued interaction with idiots, hell, if I'm going to daydream, why don't I go all out and dream about having a body that doesn't play games with me, then, eh?
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I had this nice day today, you know, after work I went to my favorite hot spot for funky things (which is only open on the weekends in the winter, go figure) and bought some super-strong bleach for my hair, since I'm planning to go ahead with the platinum hair plan. I bleached out the top part of my head, so now it's, hmm, light yellow over maroon - interesting looking, really, of course it's not going to stay that way. I just don't want my hair to fall out or break or anything so I'm giving it a break. Of course everyone's gonna be like, oh, Lara, I like your hair! But they always say that whenever I change it. It doesn't actually look that great. I need to bleach it again, and then I need to, like, let it sit with toner in it for like five hours or something. Then it should be white. We'll see about that.

And, you know, my scalp is all pink and puffy and so is my forehead and so are my fingertips. Sigh, the price of having white hair... someday maybe I'll be old and it will turn white on it's own :P

Ok but, see, while I was lounging around, listening to music and letting my hair bleach, I came to this sudden realization: I HAVE COURT TOMORROW.

Yes. TOMORROW, I HAVE COURT. I CANNOT MISS THIS.

I have known about this for months. In fact, since last time I had court. Um. Okay. Should not be a problem. But, it is, of course. Two things: one, I have to work tomorrow at the Coffee Co. I cannot do both. I have tried desperately to get my shift covered, but, like, come on. Half a day's notice? I pretty much called up and was like, yeah, not coming in, regardless, because losing my job because I didn't show up would be worse than not showing up to COURT, but, I really, really don't want to lose my job. Jobs are hard to find in the winter. I'm lucky I have two, and even with two, I really only get about twenty five hours a week, combined. If I lost this job, I would not be able to get another one. Not one I could actually, you know, get to without a car.

And speaking of car - I have to be in Camden tomorrow morning. Which means someone either needs to drive me to AC so I can get on a train or a bus, or I need to call a cab to come here and take me to AC, which is mad expensive, to say the least, and the last time I did that the cab was late. I CAN'T BE LATE.

So, my hair looks stupid, and I have royally screwed myself. Yet again.

Go me.
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All right, well, not that I'm terribly happy about turning twenty four and still having a shithole of a life, I have to admit, I'm doing a bit better than I was for my twenty-third birthday.

To make a very, very long and sob-inducing story short, Krissy and I don't see each other any more. I can't say we "broke up" because we were never officially "together," but... yeah. We don't see each other anymore. For one thing, the distance was starting to be a problem. Her driving over an hour to see me was one thing, but her driving over an hour to come pick me up was something else entirely - I don't live anywhere near any kind of public transportation that can get me to Philly. I mean, there are busses and trains in and out of Atlantic City, of course, but, what, am I going to fucking walk to AC? So no. And her coming over here is just... was just, I should say... but, this is a dry town. There are no bars. And the other towns around here, they're tourist towns, really, and when it isn't tourist season, they're just little hick towns and it's just not the same as Philly and she certainly wasn't impressed. And of course my house isn't terribly impressive or even comfortable, either.

I met Krissy's family. I think that was the last straw. We don't belong together, her and I. That was made perfectly clear.

I don't belong in anyone's life.

I still work in the restaurant a couple days a week, cause I get a ride from my downstairs tenants, which is cool. And I have a part-time job at a coffee shop a few blocks from here, near the bayside. That's an okay job. The first floor of my house is rent-able now, which is cool I guess, and I'm renting it to these two Haitian kids who are always speaking French and stuff, I can't understand them half the time even when they're speaking English. I met them at the restaurant. They're cooks. Um, so, I finished the first floor up, mostly, decently enough, anyway, in October, and they moved in right away, which leaves the second floor for me, and I've been slacking on making the second floor rent-able too.

And the second house is totally stalled because of zoning bullshit that I have no clue how to get around. I need, like, some type of knowledge I seem to be lacking, or something.

So, yeah, I live on the second floor of my own house, go me. I have fallen down my own stairs about once every other week. It's great fun.

I, ah, lost my driver's license, also - I don't really want to talk about that. It was my own fault and it was stupid, and I almost went to jail or something. I'm a fucking idiot, to tell the truth. So, anyway, my downstairs tenants drive my car. And drive me to work, conveniently.

I'm so fucking poisonous. I don't know why everyone doesn't hate me. Oh, for all I know, they all probably do. The ones who count, anyway...

Daniel...

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Lara I.

October 2012

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