Long Hours Cut Short

After three months of hot coffee, trendy clothes, great food, hard labor, late hours, and fake smiles, I have officially quit my job.

No more folding expensive jeans and stacking them onto a 17-ft wall. No more exploiting the Juicy Couture, Dolce Vita, and Superga sales. Good bye to Junk Food, Lacoste, and Hugo Boss folding.

I will miss making my own iced lattes with soy milk. I will miss being a waitress and going home every night with tip money in my pocket.

Although I was never old enough to make our lovely drinks, I will miss seeing the beer tap that is made out of real men's jeans, the cute martinis, and the awesome wine rack.

I loved my co workers, and I will miss the lovable chef who always gave me samples of our gourmet food.

Goodbye to being a Sales Associate, Barista, and Waitress. Goodbye Java Jean Bar. We'll keep in touch.

Dramatic vs. Traumatic

I'm reading a novel about the history of philosophy and in it I found this quote:

"You can't experience being alive without realizing that you have to die, but it's just as impossible to realize you have to die without thinking how incredibly amazing it is to be alive."

Perhaps, after my accident in November, I have truly embraced the beauty of life. That fateful night could have been the reason why I am no longer fazed by the petty things that others tend to stress over. After staring Death in the face at the age of nineteen, I no longer have a care for acquiring anything but another step through life. Now that I have fully defeated any emotional or financial struggle from that day, I can finally plant both feet on this stable ground that I built for myself, and breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is perfect...

So long as I keep my eyes open.

Once again, I am speeding down the 10. As always, those two lights appear just in front of me, and, as always, my car slams into the one in front of me.

As my car skids out of control, my heart beats likewise. Unable to catch my breath, my eyes snap open. I take a look around and breath a sigh of relief as I realize that I am safe in my room. I watch as the sun illuminates my soft pink walls and, immediately, I am calm again.

No longer do I dream about the shattered glass or the flames engulfing my surroundings. The thoughts of my mom as I presumed my death are merely recollections of that night, and no longer do they lurk in my dreams. It seems to me that as the months go by, my dream keeps getting cut shorter and shorter. It's as if my subconsciousness hopes that one day my dream will be shortened to nothing but a safe drive home, thus matching the same effect with my memories.

Nice try.

I need to stop having these dreams, especially when I'm trying to take a power nap before going in to work tonight. At least I got a good hour in before my slumber was so rudely interrupted by that traumatic dream. I guess I should get ready for work now, seeing as it usually takes me a while to pick out what to wear.

P.S. One more week and I'm done with this place. My feelings? Mixed.

The Green Light Effect

It was nearly one in the morning, and I was wrapping the wire around the tables outside (as if someone would really be tempted to come by in the middle of the night to steal a table...or, better yet, a heat lamp). Finally done with that grueling task, I clocked out, got in my car, and drove home. The streets were pretty empty, and I was in a rush to make it home to my bed.

In the distance the light turned red.

I pulled to a stop and rested my foot on the brake pedal, all the while thinking about how exhausted I was. I closed my eyes for a couple seconds, and opened them in time to see the light turn green.

"No," I thought. "I'm so tired, I just want to stay here and rest a little."

It was then that I took the laws of the road into my own selfish hands and decided to stall at the light for a couple seconds longer. I rested my head on the steering wheel and exhaled; from behind me I heard a honk. I looked up to see two bright lights blinding me in my rearview mirror. I had no choice but to press the gas and proceed down the road.

On that drive home I realized, the process of life is like a traffic light. When you're at the light and it turns green, you have no other choice but to go. When you're overwhelmed with obstacles and obligations, you can't just stop and feel sorry for yourself hoping that someone will come and pick up your slack; you need to continue with your life. Like that person in the car who honked at me so that he could continue on with his drive, there will always be someone out there who needs you to keep going so that they can carry out their life. You can't just stay stuck at that light forever; eventually it will change, and you will have to keep going.

On a lighter note: I am currently obsessed with Snow Patrol's music.

You might be thinking, "Wow, you're late; they're so old."

That's fine with me. Asshole.

Quizzical

Which scenario is the least redeemable for any form of intelligence?

a.) Very good to leave your lights on when you go to work; then to find out, when you're off at midnight, that you have to be stranded in the parking lot for half an hour.

b.) Even better to fall asleep at the wheel today during Rush Hour on the 91 freeway.

c.) Not to mention spending vital time searching for my keys only to find out I left them in my ignition.

d.) All of the above is unforgivingly moronic, and I need to be permanently removed from the road.

Stay tuned for an inevitable sequel on how my car will most likely stop in the middle of the road due to the fact that I have been driving around with my gas light on, reminding me that my gas tank is EMPTY.

Until next time, buckle your seat belts, cause I'm riding the gnarliest emotional rollercoaster with all these major mood swings I've been having.

I love being a girl.