So apparently my rush of narcissism fizzled out quickly. I meant to actually start writing on a daily or near daily basis and sort of forgot. Not that life has gotten any more or less interesting. The summer that I was waiting breathlessly for is half gone and all my intentions have disappeared as well.
Work is interesting as always. I am wondering if people have just gone insane. I understand the stress of a shaky economy but there has to be a limit to what people will do to save a buck. I also find myself seriously discouraged by the fact that when you work in customer service you are nothing more than a polo with a name tag. I try not dehumanize the people that I deal with everyday. I thank the cashier at the gas station, smile at the bank lady, look them in the eye and do my best to realize that even if I am having a bad day that they are not the root of the problem. What will be will be I suppose. There really is no way to make grown adults learn basic manners. If they haven't learned them yet then I suppose it is a lost cause. If they have learned them and can't manage to be decent people then I doubt there is anything that I can do to change that. I guess I shouldn't complain. At least I have a job...
Life has alternately been pure insanity or else unbearably unchanging and I am not sure what it is that I like better really. Probably the insanity...I tend to feel more vital when I am up to my elbows in new challenges and juicy drama. Until I get tired that is, at which point I am ready for the doldrums and the chance to hibernate for a week or two. Until I get bored that is, at which point I am ready to wreak some havoc. It really is a nasty cycle.
Last weekend was my 10 year high school reunion and I was dreading it like the plague! I am not usually one to give into panic attacks but that was the closest I have come to hyperventilating in a long time. I am not really sure why either. Even though I had near to nothing in common with my classmates I never let it bother me before. Of course, just like any other dreaded event it was fine, even fun at some points. I don't know if I was afraid that I wouldn't measure up to the has-she-made-something-of-herself-o-meter or what. I don't really know why I was worried. No one really bothered to ask me what I was doing with my life so there was nothing to measure. I read a book once, and sorry to whomever is responsible for the quote I am about to butcher, but roughly it went along the lines of "when you walk into a party don't worry what other people are thinking about you, they are much to busy thinking about themselves to bother with thinking about you." I guess it is the truth, and really it's quite alright with me. I have so much more fun when I don't care what everyone else thinks. Doesn't everyone?
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