Of Whaling and Thesauruses

Currently "helping" my dear Elysse with her paper on whaling. By "helping," I mean, I'm basically her thesaurus, and occasional grammar coach, and a wall to bounce things off of, and ...whatever. Sometimes I tell her brother to sush. And I'm taking her to class. And I tell her to stop looking at Supernatural related things.

...Are there any jobs for "motivational sitters," as Ginger likes to call them? Because I would be awesome at this. ...I AM awesome at this.

I really do want to teach someday, because I like watching other people learn. Especially when they want to learn. Especially when I feel like the information I'm giving them is actually making a difference.

I feel like my lack of continuous inspiration causes me to seek out and inspire others.

I miss making art. I feel like I'm suffocating at home.

Gods, I need a new job. I was apparently supposed to go in for training again today, but I forgot to transfer the date to my phone, so I was not reminded. Boss lady called, thinking that I might be dead. Nope, just forgot. Missed the first training test. What a day to miss. Christ. She didn't fire me for it though, so that's a ...plus, sort of, maybe, kinda.

I need to go get my glass at Alverno. And move my stuff inside. And get that stupid table skirt from Jenn. And my vacuum from Mel. And, you know, my soul back from ...wherever.

Fraying Strings, Cracking Wells

Well, I did not, in fact, get fired. I sometimes wish I would, just so I wouldn't have to feel guilty for wanting more in my job than slinging tea and hoping to make people smile a little more, and frown a little less.

That seems to be one of the few things in my life that I feel guilty about. Amusingly enough, it's what I'm least attached to. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person. A dozen regrets, a dozen guilts, in 23 years - if that number were less, I'd be concerned about being a sociopath. Luckily, I have feelings most of the time. Most of the time, I have too many. I once told someone that I can't feel things in halves. He didn't run away that time, surprisingly, but I think that may be more due to my managing not to profess my undying love than to him understanding what I meant.

Maybe I don't give him enough credit. Maybe I give myself too much, and I'm not really as clever as I think I am.