(no subject)
ever since i got a journal for my birthday, i keep forgetting that i have a livejournal. so it's odd trying to refamiliarize myself with "updating" and i would of course find it impossible to remember all of the past term.
I miss NCSA already. As much as i would like to think that i was burned out and miserable, i realize that carrying on an existence there is unlike any other and cannot compare to carrying on an existence in huntersville. so what am i to do? finding a job has proven somewhat unsuccessful due to the fact that i have little experience in clerical or office work; i've been scouring craigslist like mad trying to find a classified that's a bit more forgiving in the "2 yrs.+ experience needed..." area. Oh, but screw cubicles anyway if i don't get anything like that. On the other hand, I know i still have spot at cheeseburger in paradise. what a cruel place.
I wrote this the day of beaux arts:
Jay's Place
Jay always looks at me
like I am the one
who drowned his cat when I ask,
"A pack of Camel Lights, please?"
His grey brow furrows
angled and disapproving.
I smile politely.
"I've done nothing wrong!,"
I want to protest.
He turns
and selects a pack
like a grandfather flicking a
horsefly off his daughter's shoulder.
I pay.
Then, in an effort to redeem myself,
add,
"Have a good one..."
My brown eyes wander
to the various photos he's taken
of his patrons.
My friends
are in a good of amount of them, too:
Rebecca.
Aila and Andrew.
Isaac, Kelsey, Hannah, and Speedie.
Ali.
All smokers.
And I've been frequenting
his little shop
for close to a year now,
and he glares at me
like I've been on the news
screaming and yelling.
"You too," he mutters
and goes back to his game
of solitare.
And I walk out,
20 Class A cigarettes richer.
***
I still need a car.
I miss NCSA already. As much as i would like to think that i was burned out and miserable, i realize that carrying on an existence there is unlike any other and cannot compare to carrying on an existence in huntersville. so what am i to do? finding a job has proven somewhat unsuccessful due to the fact that i have little experience in clerical or office work; i've been scouring craigslist like mad trying to find a classified that's a bit more forgiving in the "2 yrs.+ experience needed..." area. Oh, but screw cubicles anyway if i don't get anything like that. On the other hand, I know i still have spot at cheeseburger in paradise. what a cruel place.
I wrote this the day of beaux arts:
Jay's Place
Jay always looks at me
like I am the one
who drowned his cat when I ask,
"A pack of Camel Lights, please?"
His grey brow furrows
angled and disapproving.
I smile politely.
"I've done nothing wrong!,"
I want to protest.
He turns
and selects a pack
like a grandfather flicking a
horsefly off his daughter's shoulder.
I pay.
Then, in an effort to redeem myself,
add,
"Have a good one..."
My brown eyes wander
to the various photos he's taken
of his patrons.
My friends
are in a good of amount of them, too:
Rebecca.
Aila and Andrew.
Isaac, Kelsey, Hannah, and Speedie.
Ali.
All smokers.
And I've been frequenting
his little shop
for close to a year now,
and he glares at me
like I've been on the news
screaming and yelling.
"You too," he mutters
and goes back to his game
of solitare.
And I walk out,
20 Class A cigarettes richer.
***
I still need a car.