Hard Boiled Eggs
And so my life seems to be filled with work, eating, sleeping, and Vic. Not sooo bad, but I feel like I'm missing out--as in, I feel like I haven't had any time for friends. And I really want to get in more exercise.
A few thoughts on working carry out for Max and Erma's: although angry, unsympathetic customers annoy the hell out of me, making cash during the week is something I actually will miss, if I happen to get a real job anytime soon. Especially now that I'm looking at $2000+ worth of debt. (Note: I've recently made some very bad decisions, and now I'm paying the price. Well, at least I've learned a lesson.) I mean, it's nice to know that I don't have to wait until the weekend to build up my bank account. The tips might not cover much, but $10 a shift adds up (eventually.)
In other news, I've been unhappy with my body lately. Somehow I've ended up with at least three hideous bruises, two on my upper arm, and a third on my right thigh. There are other bruises, but none as big or as purple as those three. It's gotten to the point where I worked into work this morning and had at least three people gasp and exclaim, "Noelle, what the hell happened to your arm!?" and it was suggested (politely) that I wear an undershirt to hide them.
The bartender, Kallen, announced to the manager that "her boyfriend abuses her! She told me yesterday," and as I, in horror, denied this, the manager laughed and said, "Oh, that's just Kallen." But then she added, "I did wonder about them [the bruises], though."
I AM GOING TO SHAPE UP. No more chips, no more pop (though the Coke in the fridge is so very tempting), and no more candy. Just fruit, vegetables, meat....with the exception of the butter-soaked bread sticks from Max and Erma's. (Help.)
I need to write more, but it's hard. A lot of my emotions refuse to see the sun. They'd rather stay locked away, and I let them get away with it. (More help.)
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.
Life is wondering what to eat for dinner.
A few thoughts on working carry out for Max and Erma's: although angry, unsympathetic customers annoy the hell out of me, making cash during the week is something I actually will miss, if I happen to get a real job anytime soon. Especially now that I'm looking at $2000+ worth of debt. (Note: I've recently made some very bad decisions, and now I'm paying the price. Well, at least I've learned a lesson.) I mean, it's nice to know that I don't have to wait until the weekend to build up my bank account. The tips might not cover much, but $10 a shift adds up (eventually.)
In other news, I've been unhappy with my body lately. Somehow I've ended up with at least three hideous bruises, two on my upper arm, and a third on my right thigh. There are other bruises, but none as big or as purple as those three. It's gotten to the point where I worked into work this morning and had at least three people gasp and exclaim, "Noelle, what the hell happened to your arm!?" and it was suggested (politely) that I wear an undershirt to hide them.
The bartender, Kallen, announced to the manager that "her boyfriend abuses her! She told me yesterday," and as I, in horror, denied this, the manager laughed and said, "Oh, that's just Kallen." But then she added, "I did wonder about them [the bruises], though."
I AM GOING TO SHAPE UP. No more chips, no more pop (though the Coke in the fridge is so very tempting), and no more candy. Just fruit, vegetables, meat....with the exception of the butter-soaked bread sticks from Max and Erma's. (Help.)
I need to write more, but it's hard. A lot of my emotions refuse to see the sun. They'd rather stay locked away, and I let them get away with it. (More help.)
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.
Life is wondering what to eat for dinner.