timewonterase

His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. –James Joyce, “The Dead” in Dubliners (1914)

*This was from 6/13, and it just happened to be on my jump drive.*

I just got busted for something I didn't know about. Now I do, but I felt absolutely stupid. The short squatty guy came down at the same time he was going up. I've seen pictures of the guy before, so I knew he was her fiancé, but how was I supposed to know what to do with visitors coming down with flowers? He wanted to surprise her, and it was so sweet. I just feel bad that I got scolded a little for it. It doesn't help that I don't necessarily like the squatty guy to begin with. That is probably why I feel so offended.

But what is with all the rules around here! I know it is a place of business and they are just trying to keep everyone safe, but seriously! It was something nice, and we're supposed to dampen that surprise. I'm tired of all the rules. I never want to work in a place like this. I am too much of a free spirit and a dreamer to be cooped up like this all the time.

I feel stupid, though. I hate feeling this way all the time. I hate it when other people make me feel this way. I went through very little training and they expect me to know everything! Well, not everything. Close to everything. The people at this place live by their rules and policies, but do they ever ask why things are this way. They do work day after day after day, but they never ask why they are doing it. I like to ask questions, I like to wonder, what if? But that is not what they want here. It is kind of big brother-esque. I hope I don't have to do anything like this when I'm older. I don't think I could stand it very long, but hey, at least then I would be trained. Here they just give us stuff and we're supposed to do it without asking to many questions. Just figure it out. The tagline of my future! Figure it out and do it.

No one should have to work 40 hours a week; it is simply nonsense. Most of this stuff could just be thrown in the trash. The only reason I have to do it is because some bozo before me decided to keep customers way too updated on their orders, and then promise them weekly updates. Dur! Let’s not and say we did.

I hate working all the time because I never get a chance to work on my stories.  I have all these ideas floating around in my head, but no time to write them out. When I get home, I’m tired or I have to do something else, and there just never seems to be enough time to do what I want to do.

M- has a boyfriend! Not really. There is this other intern at work that likes her, and she has been running through the halls trying to avoid him all day. Ha! And it is the weird redhead who keeps craning his neck to see in here all the time. So funny. I’m just glad I’m not his crush!

Well, it quittin’ time!

Where does the weekend go? Time keeps speeding along, and I am left wondering, will it ever stop? Take a break? Give me a break? I hate working 40 hours a week, but then again that is what it is going to be like in the "real" world. At least, when I get out in the "real" world, I will be doing something I enjoy. Updating spreadsheets and doing work a monkey could do will very little training, is not what I call fun. 

J- and I went to Cedar Point with his family this past weekend. I had so much fun. I cannot remember a time where I was so carefree. Most of the time, I am contemplating or planning the next move or the next event. It was just nice to sit back, hold on and enjoy the ride. 

We went on pretty much everything. I drew the line at the Dragster and the PowerTower. I've never been on the Dragster, and I intend to keep it that way. I would probably throw up in line before I even got on it. The part that kills me about roller coasters is the anticipation. Feeling the pull as you're going down that first drop, waiting for the pull. I start freaking out. My mind starts working overtime, examining everything that could possibly go wrong. My stomach could definitely not handle that at all. I hate the PowerTower for exactly that reason. I don't care whether or not it shoots you up or drops you down, the anticipation wins and I am a nervous wreck. After last year, I drew the line. No more. I was about ready to cry last year because I was so scared and worried. 

I do well on pretty much everything else. We rode the new ride, the Maverick. That was sweet! Hardly any waiting because as soon as you got in the seat and strapped in the bolted you over the first hill. My head got knocked around a little, but it was definitely worth it. 

I felt bad for J-'s cousin. She would not go on any ride. She is afraid of roller coasters, and pretty much everything else. She wouldn't even go on the dinky, nudity boat that rocks back and forth a few times. She would just sit and wait. That is no fun for a kid. Why would her parents even spend all that money on a ticket if she was only going to watch?

Her mom had to get in her face and force her to go on the Thunder Canyon water ride. That is what we finished up the day with, and none of us had swimsuits on. I was freezing when we got out and the money in my pockets was soaked, but it was well worth it. 

I am one of those people who believe you always have to try something once, or you may regret it later. Granted, I am sometimes a hypocrite, but that is only because I know my limits. I know I would never make it through that Dragster line. And I accept that. I was content to watch on the bleachers as J- and his uncle were shot into the sky. 36 seconds and then it was over. Long enough for me to have a heart attack though, if I were on it. A heart attack at 19 wouldn't be good. 

But all in all, it was a very fun weekend. Lots of good memories, and one gansta pic where I'm representing the east side. That was a good one! Can't wait to do it again next year.

Kind a reminds me of the new car smell. A fresh, virtual piece of paper to write to myself about myself. That sounds sort of conceited. Well, that must be the purpose of the journal: so you can sound as conceited as you want and no one will ever no nor care. 

Okay, I'm done breaking in the first entry. More later.