Goodmorning! sorry about the late post, I was exhausted last night and writing a blog post entirely slipped my mind. I think I've finally reached status quo. I have found the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation My first shift at Jamba Juice was fucking exhausting. I had to sit through 4 and a half hours of training videos in a cold ass fucking store in which there were no experienced people to train me. The stress i felt that day was unlike anything I've felt before, which is saying a lot. I've felt life threatening stress, danger stress, fear stress, the stress of losing something and not being able to find it, the dread of something on the horizon that I'm not looking forward to. This was.... different to say the least. It was draining, exhausting, clock-in clock-out, corporate sludge in the form of a smoothie invented by some asshole in California who's idea of healthy is a mixture of vitamins and minerals potent enough to subdue and possible euthanize 8 horses. That being said, I don't work for that asshole, I work for and with good people, who are trying their best in a world that is constantly smacking them down at every turn. I can tell this business is going downhill. Our management (2 guys spread across 8 stores) is overworked and they don't like eachother, it doesn't help that it seems they have an issue with new hires flaking out. I can't deny the urge to not show up tomorrow is great, but I've seen what it's like for them, and I just can't do that. I hope my manager takes care of himself this Sunday, it's his first day off since January fucking 3rd. I can sort of understand how that feels, although I wasn't managing 4 jamba juices, I was just selling ham at a counter for 2 weeks straight.
After I got home from work, I felt so drained I just stayed in bed for an hour. It wasn't until my mom started getting ready to go out that I went to go hang out with her in the bathroom while she did her makeup. I actually wanna thank anyone who's reading this and gave her compliments, my dad did a number on her self esteem, and so she doesn't really feel great about how she looks, but with the new haircut and all the compliments, I think we're starting to repair the damage. Course some of that has to come from the inside, but it's a journey we're all on and I'm happy to help her along. I think mine and her relationship is getting way better. We are getting better at trusting eachother and getting along. Last night I talked to her for what must have been the longest 2 hours for her. I just talked her ear off about the cold war and the CIA because it's one of my hyperfixations so I know way too much about that stuff, but here's the cool part! She does too!!! She watches a lot of documentaries about the CIA, the Cold War, and WWII. Her father was a diehard communist so she's pretty radicalized and we agree on a lot of stuff, however she has some anti-vax ideologies that I don't love. It's fine though, she's getting better.
The band is doing good, we're gonna start taping our practices so my guitarist gets used to being on camera because he wants to make short films. I'm very happy with this, like unbelievably so. I can't believe my favorite two mediums are mixing and the people involved are good people. Anarchists, punks like me. Like me...? Having an identity is so hard, on one end of things I want to be a do-no-harm-leave-only-smiling-faces hippy, but how can I do no harm when doing no harm gets nowhere. I wonder, would a hippy kill a nazi? I would, does that make me not a hippy? On the flipside, am I even a punk? Do I fit into any preset subgenres of people? Does it matter? Afterall, they're all make believe. Entirely made up, everything is. The rules of society, "gender norms", the concept of gender as a whole! All of it is made up. I think that I am a punk, I'm a hippy and a punk and a bastard and a moron and a boy and a girl and alive and dead and everything real and nothing is! These words mean nothing, and yet saying them makes me feel better. I am a rat! I am a congealed orb! I am slime! I am scum! I am all of these things and none of them. I am Chekhov's gun! I am Schrodinger's cat! I am string theory and stardust and nuclear radiation! I am me, and that's enough.
The song of the week is 7 Minutes In Heaven by Fall Out Boy
See y'all next week.