The Grand Unveiling Of (insert witty comment here)
Well well well... after much bitching and complaining by Ashley, I have started my first LiveJournal entry. I swore for the longest time that I would never do one of these... but this is just another example of things not turning out the way you thought they would. That's pretty much the story of my life so far, actually.
If I try and think about it, I can actually remember a time where I was a happy person. Most everyone who's reading this right now will probably laugh at that sentence, but it's true: I was a happy person. Unfortunately, a higher power (or something) determined that I wasn't destined to live a happy life. Okay fine, I can deal with that. But if someone had at least WARNED ME, that would have been nice. Instead, I'm living out my meager existence, wondering when it'll all end. Actually, I've convinced myself that I'm going to die at a young age (probably before 35) and that it'll be in a car crash on the I-10 overpass at Ray Road. Now, how did I narrow my demise down to this location? Well, I went home after work one night (I don't do anything else but work), went to bed and had a dream. Seemed harmless enough at the time, as one would think. It wasn't a particularly vivid dream, but I do remember getting into that accident. When I went to work the next day (see, told you) I was talking with one of my booth buddies, Eric, and we started talking. Somehow, the point came up about the dream, and he said that he had dreamt the exact same thing that night. Ray Road, car crash, my death, etc. So from that moment on, I'm convinced that's how I will die.
Well, that was certainly an interesting way to begin this. In case anyone is wondering where I work (which I doubt anyone cares), I work at a movie theatre. Thankfully, I'm not one of those popcorn-shoveling, floor sweeping, ticket selling, interacting with customers movie theatre employee. No no, I'm one of the "fortunate" ones (I laughed out loud when I wrote that, by the way) who works upstairs in the projection booth. Through many years of taking my fair amount of shit, learning my trade, seeing people put into my position when they shouldn't have, I have ascended the ladder to become Booth Manager of our little theatre. I feel that my skills speak for themselves, but I still wonder to this day how I managed to stick with this job for so long. Sure, I've had several other jobs in-between, but I never found much enjoyment in them. I met a lot of interesting people at those jobs, and since I'm a people-watcher, that provided a way to pass the time. But ultimately, I missed my friends and what I had grown to love. It seems strange for me to write that I love my job, but AMC has become my home. As much as a hellhole that it really, truly is, I've grown to love it and even miss it (to some extent) when I'm away for a few days at a time. Now Ashley, I know that right about now, you're going to want to kill me for ever saying these things. But.. TOO BAD! THIS IS MY LIVE JOURNAL!!!
Why do I have these strange feelings for AMC? Well, it all started when I mentioned at the beginning of this entry that at one point in my life, I was a happy. Well, by the time I started at AMC in 1998, I was not a happy person. So achieving happiness at AMC has never been my goal. Achieving life, on the other hand, was. What the hell does that mean? Well, in a sense, AMC saved me (yes, like finding Jesus). It saved me from ending my life, which would have ruined that whole Ray Road scenario. Yes, it seems that little old me had a severe depression problem (well, still do) and contemplated suicide much like any teenager of today's world does. I had no one to help me through this time, as living with my grandparents didn't really help. So I turned to my job, which at that time, was only a weekend thing since I was 15. But I had something to look forward to every weekend; it was my solace, my respite from time at home. So as I grew out of my manic depressive state, which was about 3 years later, I realized that AMC had given me more than I could give back in return. It gave me a place to hang out with my friends, to talk about nothing in particular, to get drunk in theatre 6 every weekend, but more so, it gave me a place to call home and a chance to find myself. No, I didn't find out that I was an alcoholic Ashley, but I got a chance to live. My grandparents never gave me that opportunity; they were actually sucking the life right out of me. AMC enstilled a new life into me, and without that, I wouldn't be here today. I honestly believe that, despite what other people may believe.
Well, I think that's enough for one night. That should give whoever's reading this something to ponder over until my next entry.
If I try and think about it, I can actually remember a time where I was a happy person. Most everyone who's reading this right now will probably laugh at that sentence, but it's true: I was a happy person. Unfortunately, a higher power (or something) determined that I wasn't destined to live a happy life. Okay fine, I can deal with that. But if someone had at least WARNED ME, that would have been nice. Instead, I'm living out my meager existence, wondering when it'll all end. Actually, I've convinced myself that I'm going to die at a young age (probably before 35) and that it'll be in a car crash on the I-10 overpass at Ray Road. Now, how did I narrow my demise down to this location? Well, I went home after work one night (I don't do anything else but work), went to bed and had a dream. Seemed harmless enough at the time, as one would think. It wasn't a particularly vivid dream, but I do remember getting into that accident. When I went to work the next day (see, told you) I was talking with one of my booth buddies, Eric, and we started talking. Somehow, the point came up about the dream, and he said that he had dreamt the exact same thing that night. Ray Road, car crash, my death, etc. So from that moment on, I'm convinced that's how I will die.
Well, that was certainly an interesting way to begin this. In case anyone is wondering where I work (which I doubt anyone cares), I work at a movie theatre. Thankfully, I'm not one of those popcorn-shoveling, floor sweeping, ticket selling, interacting with customers movie theatre employee. No no, I'm one of the "fortunate" ones (I laughed out loud when I wrote that, by the way) who works upstairs in the projection booth. Through many years of taking my fair amount of shit, learning my trade, seeing people put into my position when they shouldn't have, I have ascended the ladder to become Booth Manager of our little theatre. I feel that my skills speak for themselves, but I still wonder to this day how I managed to stick with this job for so long. Sure, I've had several other jobs in-between, but I never found much enjoyment in them. I met a lot of interesting people at those jobs, and since I'm a people-watcher, that provided a way to pass the time. But ultimately, I missed my friends and what I had grown to love. It seems strange for me to write that I love my job, but AMC has become my home. As much as a hellhole that it really, truly is, I've grown to love it and even miss it (to some extent) when I'm away for a few days at a time. Now Ashley, I know that right about now, you're going to want to kill me for ever saying these things. But.. TOO BAD! THIS IS MY LIVE JOURNAL!!!
Why do I have these strange feelings for AMC? Well, it all started when I mentioned at the beginning of this entry that at one point in my life, I was a happy. Well, by the time I started at AMC in 1998, I was not a happy person. So achieving happiness at AMC has never been my goal. Achieving life, on the other hand, was. What the hell does that mean? Well, in a sense, AMC saved me (yes, like finding Jesus). It saved me from ending my life, which would have ruined that whole Ray Road scenario. Yes, it seems that little old me had a severe depression problem (well, still do) and contemplated suicide much like any teenager of today's world does. I had no one to help me through this time, as living with my grandparents didn't really help. So I turned to my job, which at that time, was only a weekend thing since I was 15. But I had something to look forward to every weekend; it was my solace, my respite from time at home. So as I grew out of my manic depressive state, which was about 3 years later, I realized that AMC had given me more than I could give back in return. It gave me a place to hang out with my friends, to talk about nothing in particular, to get drunk in theatre 6 every weekend, but more so, it gave me a place to call home and a chance to find myself. No, I didn't find out that I was an alcoholic Ashley, but I got a chance to live. My grandparents never gave me that opportunity; they were actually sucking the life right out of me. AMC enstilled a new life into me, and without that, I wouldn't be here today. I honestly believe that, despite what other people may believe.
Well, I think that's enough for one night. That should give whoever's reading this something to ponder over until my next entry.