sweat and angst
there is a heatwave. my parents are in new zealand, where it is winter. my father emailed to suggest i go spend some time with my grandmother in her airconditioned apt at the retirement village (where jodie foster's mother lives, btw) if for no other reason than to "realize there are plenty of things worse than the heat." he also wrote that my mother has been puking her way across the island nation that is new zealand. and that she made him buy her a pair of sapphire earrings so expensive they "take care of her birthday and christmas- maybe for more than just this year." it's better when he's the one in charge of emails. hers are always full of things she "senses" from reading my previous responses. things like "you seem depressed." which i probably am- but how the hell could you tell that from an email that is primarily dedicated to answering the litany of questions you've posited? "yes, i'm doing well at work. no, grandma hasn't had a stroke." etc.
in other news, i saw an ex the other day who really enjoyed talking about the ridiculous amount of money he is now making for doing nothing. he was full of backhanded compliments like "you're really selling yourself short," and advice like "don't be stupid and settle for anything less than 75 grand a year; that will make you look like a sucker." and it irritates me that his incredibly obvious bragging somehow managed to make me feel small. i don't usually care about shit like this. to top it off, work has been hell. last night after spending 8 hours in a uniform and making almost no money at all, i felt bad about being "just a waitress" for the first time in my life. oh well. maybe i need a kick in my ass to get myself moving. the fact that i have a fucking master's degree and i'm still "just a waitress" probably does say something about my fear of either failure or success.
in other news, i saw an ex the other day who really enjoyed talking about the ridiculous amount of money he is now making for doing nothing. he was full of backhanded compliments like "you're really selling yourself short," and advice like "don't be stupid and settle for anything less than 75 grand a year; that will make you look like a sucker." and it irritates me that his incredibly obvious bragging somehow managed to make me feel small. i don't usually care about shit like this. to top it off, work has been hell. last night after spending 8 hours in a uniform and making almost no money at all, i felt bad about being "just a waitress" for the first time in my life. oh well. maybe i need a kick in my ass to get myself moving. the fact that i have a fucking master's degree and i'm still "just a waitress" probably does say something about my fear of either failure or success.