Okay, so yesterday I was much too muchy to write anything. I was interviewed and hired on the spot at a new job and it was very exciting. No, it’s not my dream job (whatever that is) and yes, it’s still minimum wage, but it’s another job that is 30ish hours a week. This means I may be able to pay some fracking bills. I am in debt to so many people and it is uncomfortable.
Anyway, besides all that, I did get through chapter 2 of “Slaughterhouse-five,” and I must say, it’s going mostly well. There are times when I am reading that I don’t really feel present or engaged in the text; sort of like I am reading just for the sake of reading. However, Vonnegut wrote something in chapter 2 that made me feel almost normal (for better or worse), “The orchestration of the moment was this: Barbara was only twenty-one years old. [rest of paragraph] All this responsibility at such an early age made her a bitchy flibbertigibbet.” For some reason “the orchestration of the moment,” strikes me as a very well written. As if to say that these things in life are magically rehearsed and sewn together by a conductor. However, it’s just that small sliver of time. How very precise and wonderfully big to have an “orchestration” for a single moment.
Of course the word, “flibbertigibbet” is classic as well, and I can relate exactly to such a metamorphosis in personality. Now, I realize that all my responsibilities are regular adult, expected responsibilities, but I feel the burden of them in all waking times of my life. It doesn’t feel good, even when I manage to get everything paid; or I manage to meet expectations of employers or family members. I just feel like I passed one hurdle out of the 99 behind me and in front of me that I will surely knock the fuck over with my spectacular, failure face. Shit gets old. Employment and expectations of other people get old. Some people say, “Oh it won’t always be like that.” The reality however, is that it very well could be. There’s no guarantee that things will work out for me. It doesn’t for so many people.
Sometimes I get so distracted by small things in the text, like I can’t really see the big picture, or the forest through the trees, but I am starting to agree with the text on the front of the cover that describes the book as, Poignant and hilarious, threaded with compassion and, behind everything, the cataract of a thundering moral statement.” -The Boston Globe.
Incidentally, I sort of feel like I’m cheating again and regurgitating the thoughts of another. It’s amazing how my brain will latch onto the smallest thing, as if to say that this reviewer from the Boston Globe knows what she or he is talking about, anymore than I do.
Man, I am tired right now.
After work (I was only supposed to train for 45 minutes today, but ended up working 5 hours) I went out with my boyfriend and his best friend. We drank wine and it is putting me to sleep. I need to get this thing posted though!
I’m pondering how cool it would actually be to be a Tralfamadorian and be conscious of cyclical time instead of linear. I think it would make grieving easier. My grandma has CNS lymphoma in this state of time, but she is also a perfectly healthy 19-year-old just starting out in life at another equally operational moment. I like to imagine her as she was for some reason. I find it comforting, even though I never knew her until she was a grandma.
On the job note, I am becoming painfully aware of my awkward, nervousness around humans. (Ie: My new boss commented on it today.) I’m all, “hi there, you sire, with the face. Good on you for the face- with the oxygen.”
Also, people have been rolling their eyes at me all day, exasperated that I couldn’t get their orders as quickly as they spoke. I realize “it’s not that hard to take an order,” but give me a small break here, and stop talking so fast. Yes, my new job is in food service. Whoo hoo!
I was fairly tired too. Last night I stayed awake until 2am to test for my liquor service permit. I would have done it earlier in the day, except for my other job and my best friend’s 25 birthday party. We went to a family fun center, where my ass was handed to me in laser tag, dance dance revolution, and go-karts. I am truly well-rounded in my collective failure face. On that note, both my sister and I approach laser tag game-play like we are techno Rambos. She is much better at it than me, but hey, what isn’t she better at than me?
People say all the time how wonderfully violent she is, and that she should do MMA, and that she’s a natural fighter and all that. I wish that was me. The reality is, is that I’m no more a natural fighter than I am a naturally, well-spoken, order-taker.
Tomorrow I will update my 100 goal list and try to get through more chapters. This chapter by chapter thing is too slow.