Im a kungfoo baby turtle
Just to let you all know, my biggest fear...besides spiders...is the thought that I could wake up tomorrow and still be 15 living with my parents as a rebel teenager from hell again. In the eyes of a parent I was the worst teenager ever. In the eyes of a teenager I was a time bomb waiting to go off, and I did on occasion in violent or just down right weird ways. I didnt do a shit load of drugs, I just tried a few. I didnt actually smoke pot until I was 15 and that was because of peer pressure of the best kind...the hottest skater punk in the school drove by me in his daddies convertible with his friends and I jumped in. It wasnt really what I expected. I expected wild partying and chaos like they talk about on those government commercials, instead I got ice cream and four guys watching the cooking channel explaining to me that they were going to move to Chicago to open a restaurant.
I never did wild parties. Though I did come home drunk/stoned/piss ass sober occationally. I never did anything wrong. I only came home in handcuffs once and that was because I ran away.
Thats a long story. I ran away three times, always came back, mostly because I was dating a jackass who would convince me to leave then go, "you should go home now". When we broke up he tried to kill me...but thats also another story...
So anyway, I justify my running away by saying my parents thought I was a horrible teenager because I played video games and stayed out of large groups, I didnt always empty the dishwasher when I was told, and I wore a lot of black. When you go to psychiatrist all your life and constantly have people trying to tell you there is something wrong with you when you know there isnt THEN have your parents basically tell you they wish you were a normal teenager when if they knew normal it really would have made them turn gray...you snap...frequently.
So in about two weeks I get to join the ranks of "normal life". The 9 to 5 life. I get to get up early, mentally bang my head against the wall all day, then go home in traffic, grocery shop in long lines, and have weekends off with crowded miserable people who just want to get drunk in hopes of somehow finding euphoria in the bottom of a probably not totally sanitary cocktail glass.
I discribe it like that because Im under the impression that first shift people pity second shifters. We sleep in, usually get very little done in the morning even though we claim we would get more done, work until its dark out, drive home alone, shop alone, drink alone. Its really not all that bad I've just noticed when out at walgreens late at night if a first shifter happens to be out for some reason they look at me like Im a vampire and I will admit I have to look at them like they are...pray. The contrast being, Im still dressed up and my makeup and hair are still in place, whereas they are shuffling around in sweat pants by this point. You can see in their eyes they have the belief that Im going to steal their soul and the pens they took from the supply closet where they work to replenish my energy. How the hell else could I stay up until 2 am on a Tuesday?
I dont know how well Im going to fair with a normal work schedule as a normal person. I imagin I'll be like a turtle in a sheep suit. Not a wolf, I dont want to eat them... dont know where the hell they have been, and not one of those big turtles that dosent move. The baby ones... the itty bitty ones that are busting ass to get to the ocean before something tries to eat them. Only Im a kung foo baby turtle so I kick stop to kick the shit out of the segal that tried to bite my leg...then I continue to bust ass.
I never did wild parties. Though I did come home drunk/stoned/piss ass sober occationally. I never did anything wrong. I only came home in handcuffs once and that was because I ran away.
Thats a long story. I ran away three times, always came back, mostly because I was dating a jackass who would convince me to leave then go, "you should go home now". When we broke up he tried to kill me...but thats also another story...
So anyway, I justify my running away by saying my parents thought I was a horrible teenager because I played video games and stayed out of large groups, I didnt always empty the dishwasher when I was told, and I wore a lot of black. When you go to psychiatrist all your life and constantly have people trying to tell you there is something wrong with you when you know there isnt THEN have your parents basically tell you they wish you were a normal teenager when if they knew normal it really would have made them turn gray...you snap...frequently.
So in about two weeks I get to join the ranks of "normal life". The 9 to 5 life. I get to get up early, mentally bang my head against the wall all day, then go home in traffic, grocery shop in long lines, and have weekends off with crowded miserable people who just want to get drunk in hopes of somehow finding euphoria in the bottom of a probably not totally sanitary cocktail glass.
I discribe it like that because Im under the impression that first shift people pity second shifters. We sleep in, usually get very little done in the morning even though we claim we would get more done, work until its dark out, drive home alone, shop alone, drink alone. Its really not all that bad I've just noticed when out at walgreens late at night if a first shifter happens to be out for some reason they look at me like Im a vampire and I will admit I have to look at them like they are...pray. The contrast being, Im still dressed up and my makeup and hair are still in place, whereas they are shuffling around in sweat pants by this point. You can see in their eyes they have the belief that Im going to steal their soul and the pens they took from the supply closet where they work to replenish my energy. How the hell else could I stay up until 2 am on a Tuesday?
I dont know how well Im going to fair with a normal work schedule as a normal person. I imagin I'll be like a turtle in a sheep suit. Not a wolf, I dont want to eat them... dont know where the hell they have been, and not one of those big turtles that dosent move. The baby ones... the itty bitty ones that are busting ass to get to the ocean before something tries to eat them. Only Im a kung foo baby turtle so I kick stop to kick the shit out of the segal that tried to bite my leg...then I continue to bust ass.