Friday, July 30, 2004
How Shirley Saves Up For Rent And Food
Today marks the last day off that I will have until further notice. Starting tomorrow, I am working more than full time at two different places, both selling tea and British culture. I am the official Tea Shop B*tch, attending to the beck and call of my boss, working wherever and whenever he wishes me to. My schedule so far has me working everyday until the end of the summer; when I'm not waiting tables at the restaurant, I'm selling tea at the store, and there are some days that I will be working at both places, one after the other. Yay for double shifts. I'm working more then full time here, clocking in about 48 hours in one week. Possibly more. All in the same Victorian-tea-maid uniform.
When I'm not working, I'll be found in my room, hunched over my desk, poring through anthropology texts, desperately trying to learn all that I can about culture. It will be one sweet ass day when I can finally walk out of that examination room, throw my books in the trash and break my pencils in half.
But I'll probably end up selling the books for money and put the pencils safely away in my bag.
Annnnnd, when I'm not studying for this blasted exam, I'll be downstairs watching TLC and crying at all the different reality shows I get the pleasure of viewing. Love and weddings and babies and redecorating! Oh my.
And yes, I will too cry. I never thought I'd be the type who'd cry at a wedding, nevermind a wedding aired on the television for goodness' sake, but I am. When the woman in the pouffy white dress walks down the aisle to Canon in D and when they recite those sappy vows, I'm all love and mush on the inside. I cry the most at A Baby Story. As the poor lady is clutching her husband's hand, possibly breaking all his bones, my face is all smushed up...then when the slimey newborn frees their mum from unbelievable pain, I relax said smushed up face, I find the tears rolling right out.
I don't know if I'm crying at the whole miracle of brith and life thing or the pain the poor screaming woman is in (what gets me the most is yes, she can take drugs for the pain, but getting the dang epidural causes even more pain! Now that, Ms. Morrisette, is ironic), or the fact that I know that fate is inevitable for me as well.
Well, off to studying. But first, one final toast.
To freedom! To social life! To Summer. To friends and fun, Goodbye.