8:15 - rushed out door to volkswagen dealer to pick up my new car (yay!!) which, sadly, i would only be able to look at fondly, as i had to be shipped off to work by my father at 9:20 and my mother was going to drive it home. i felt a tinge of sadness as we waved goodbye to the volkswagen salesman that had so convinced my father to spend THIS much money on a car for me. hmm.
9:45 - got to work. changed into ridiculous costume. yes, that what i'm calling it. this "costume" consists of a long sleeved red shirt with a dinky, too-short collar that sticks up and MUST be ironed perfectly or i get charged 5 dollars (??), "zanaros" name tag, stupid black pants with NO POCKETS that i was forced to buy at the LIMITED due to lack of time to find GOOD black pants, green apron that goes below my knees (actually, i like the apron, i just wish it wasn't green). i wore my campers, as they're the only comfortable black shoes i own presently and got yelled at because they aren't
"completely black". i then was introduced to my "trainer", who was a very attractive young black man, on the short side, who reminded me sortof like a muppet...like, if i wanted to have sex with muppets. i mean...
10:30 - after setting all the tables in the smoking section with said nubian-love-of-my-life-trainer so that we could smoke cigarettes WHILE working (he smoked newports...), i was grabbed over to the MANAGER table to take several WRITTEN QUIZES on my knowledge of the menu and procedures. HOW FUCKING LAME. the worst thing about this restaurant is simply that it's run like applebees is run. i HATE applebees.
the waitstaff are REALLY chill, nice people, but the managers ruin everything. there are probably like 7 or 8 of them. at least 2 on every shift. i feel like i'm in the movie office space. i feel like they should be asking me, "so, you get that memo?" or "yeeeahhhh....about the memo....did you read the memo, kirsten? the one about the farfalle pasta dishes?"
i actually had to take a multiple choice quiz identifying the offered pasta selections with their descriptions. as well as the sauces. we offer 11 pastas and 8 sauces. don't make me get into it.
11:30 - escapes the evil clutches of the managers to follow the-hersheys-kiss-of-my-dreams around (i was SUPPOSED TO) so he could show me where shit was. he cares about the job about as much as i do, which is very very little. i must say, i hate it already. i'm there for two hours and i want to die. but i think once i get out of training (AGHH I KNOW HOW TO WAIT TABLES, I'VE DONE IT BEFORE...GO THE HELL AWAY) and the managers dislodge their balding, 36-and-making-25k-a-year-managing-a-restaurant-owned-by-applebees heads out of my ass, it'll be alright. i've noticed that they seem to talk down to all the workers, like they're morons. maybe i've just had really lenient, nice-ass managers in the past, but it isn't nice. they talk to me like i'm missing a chromosome, and they talk to the waiters that have been working there since the fucking restaurant opened like they have cerebral palsy.
psht. so anyway, i get a different trainer tomorro, unfortunately. i'm sure that my afrian warrior will be there also, just not having to train my disfunctional ass.
3:00 - finally get to LEAVE. pissed off. managers told me to take out my nosering and COVER UP ALL NON-BLACK SECTIONS OF MY SHOES WITH PERMANENT BLACK MARKER. YOU IDIOTS, NOBODY IS LOOKING AT MY FUCKING SHOES, I'M A WAITRESS. AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE MY NOSERING UNTIL THE ASSHOLE WHO HAD TO TAKE HIS LIP RING OUT BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID POLICIES TOLD ON ME. I DON'T GIVE A RATS ASS. I'LL PRETEND IT'S A ZIT FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS.
oops, outburst. okay anyway so i get to the train station, realize that i have only one dollar, and that the train isn't coming for 40 more minutes. allow me to point out, first, that it was about 90 degrees out, and sunny. and it smelled like poontang everywhere in new rochelle. second, you need to pay 1.75 to take the train to rye, and no matter how hard i try to avoid the conductor, it never works. so i didn't have money, and i didn't want to wait for a train i would probably get thrown off of. so i went and got a taxi. i figured i'd run in, find my bank card or somebody else's credit card, make the guy drive me to the bank, and then pay him extra. of course, a cab to my house from there is 20 anyway. ugh. luckily my mom was home and payed for the cab.
i drove my car for an hour or two. of course, with my mother in it. i can't wait until i can just drive it by myself. ah well. i think i've put the convertible top up and down about 12 times already today. the interior lights are really cool when it's dark out. the car handles really well and goes fast and some guy in a mitsubishi followed me for 5 miles while i was driving it. i was confused, my mom thought he wanted to get in my pants. i figured he just liked my car. the car is much cuter than me, or my genitals.
sorry, genitals.
wow i am fucking exhausted and i want the summer to be over. i have my car, i want to take it to school and that's it. i'm sick of working, i've worked three days now and hate it, and i've only made like $60 out of all of this so far because it's TRAINING and i don't get TIPS AND JESUS CHRIST.
actually, i'm in a fairly okay mood now, somehow, don't know why.
the sound: Handsome Boy Modeling School - Modeling Sucks
so livejournal was being stupid and i don't know, i guess i'll use both once in a while since i haven't used either in a few weeks...does that make sense? certainly not.
the summer has started off on a bad foot. my parents don't want me to leave the house unless it's to go somewhere that they will drive me and go with me and then drive me home, i'm not allowed in the city (even though i grew up there and i'm almost 19 and haven't lived at home in 2 years), and as a direct result of that, not allowed to see any of my friends. i have to hear about this vague, looming "drug thing" or "drug problem" that i apparently have (funny, i guess i just didn't NOTICE that i was a raging coke and speed user, i guess you really need the [wrong] assumptions of others to point that sort of thing out to you)...for some reason they don't feel like drug testing me, while it would be a GREAT idea since i'm CLEANCLEANCLEAN and they don't believe me. they'll have to believe the urine, right? my luck? no, they'd say the urine was lying, they can't trust me OR my piss. jesus.
so i have a job. at a miserable restaurant in a miserable place called new rochelle. i'm a "server". yes, that's a waitress. i've had to undergo two days of "training" so far and have at least two more days of it. it's corporate crap, they call the staff "the family" or "the team". it's pathetic, but it'll make decent money.
money, to pay for my car. which i will have on saturday. my saving grace. he's small, red, new, and takes his top off on a regular basis. yes, he's a volkswagen and he's a convertible. alas, i don't have my license yet, and through hours of recent driving lessons i've managed to schedule a road test for this-coming wednsday, two hours away from my house, at 10:00 am. i hope i can pass it, then i can drive to work. to make money to pay my parents back for my car so that i can take the car to school. but really, the car is just so i can get to my job, and the job is just to pay for the car. really, why am i even doing anything?
everything seems pretty futile lately. i'm not super depressed, it just seems that the idea of having FUN over the summer is something absurd that i never should have thought of. i don't know who actually has fun over the summer, but i know that i end up working full time, not seeing my friends, being lonely, fighting with my parents and not getting laid. last summer was a little different, i managed pretty well. but this summer is just like every other summer. go there, do that, make money, come home, do that, go to sleep, wake up, do that, go there, money, go, sleep, do it, go. blah.
i really hate the summer. it's too hot during the day, and i'm forced to do things all day, and then i get home, it gets dark, it gets nice out, i want to go out and have fun and there's nobody to be with. if i want to see anybody i care about, i have to take a train for 40 minutes (which i don't mind at all), which i'm apparently forbidden to do.
did i mention that my 19th birthday is on july 4th? woofuckinghoo. 18 was probably the worst year of my life. i'm only happy that i'll be 19 because 19 couldn't possibly be any worse than 18. yes, there were quite a few GOOD things that happened this year, lots of good times, funny things, happy things, but looking back, the badness, emotional stress, shit i took from other people (authority figures. not peers), situations that never turned themselves around...i've never felt shittier in my life. i was DEPRESSED for about 1/3 of this year. i don't get depressed. i'm usually bouncy and energetic and loud and happy and talkative and all the things that make me able to have friends, and if you ask anybody that knew me before i turned 18, that's how they'd describe me. so when i'm depressed, you know something has actually gone very, very wrong.
nothing's so wrong anymore, it's just not right. i feel like i turned 45 last week. i'm tired, i just want to sleep, i want the summer to be over so i can get back to my real life where i don't have to be this zombie who playcates everybody so they'll pay for an education...my feet hurt, i complain about work, i'm going to be driving my cute little red car with a marb red hanging out of my mouth and bags under my eyes and how is that any fucking different from a 45 year old woman having a midlife crisis?
you may ask, kirsten, what do you consider "fun"? (fun, nasty fun...haha..sorry..tomtomclub reference)..i don't know if i can outline it with detail. i have fun when i'm placed in any sort of situation with people i know well, and people i don't know at all. the more ridiculous the situation, the more fun. for example, if i'm stuck waiting in line to buy tickets to something i really want to go to with one good friend, and behind several complete strangers, the potential for fun is high. meanwhile, if i'm sitting in my kitchen, with my parents, the potential for fun is very minimal. it's not that i don't like them, it's that they don't know me and i guess they CAN'T because if they did they'd disapprove (no, not about drugs, about everything), it's that we've been together for almost 19 years. nothing is exciting anymore. it's all the same crap. they tell me how work went we joke about some client of my father's or a parishoner of my mother's, i talk about work, or school, i'll tell a funny story and get disapproving glances from them because my siblings might be at the table (oops, i let my real personality shine through, sorry guys) and we'll get into a minor argument, make up, i'll leave to have a cigarette, they'll go to bed, i'll check my email, read part of a book and go to sleep, bored out of my mind, without anybody to ACTUALLY talk to. sure, i can talk to them about some things. but not the things i need to talk about. all the problems i'm having are things they think are ridiculous, why would i be so upset about a stupid thing like that? boys? cars? a teacher gave me a bad grade? being completely isolated from everybody i know who isn't THEM? GOD, why should that matter?
it's almost as though they forgot what it was like to be 18. i know, everybody says, your parents were 18 too. well you know what, fuck that. i honestly don't believe that my parents were EVER 18. they claim that they didn't drink in college, my dad claims that friends weren't that imporatant in college, his grades were. my mother says she never did any drugs. my dad says he might have smoked pot a few times. perhaps they didn't have many friends? maybe neither one of them understood the way close friendships work when you live with the person? maybe they never got to live in a house with three of their best friends for an entire semester? of course, then, they wouldn't understand how bad it feels to be stuck somewhere with no opportunity to see them.
kirsten, you should make friends in the town you live in! correction: the town my PARENTS live in. i have never lived here. i grew up in manhattan, and then moved to MA to go to simon's rock. there was no point in time where i lived here. except for now. and now, i don't feel right saying i do. nonetheless, nobody here gives me the time of day. nobody my age here strikes me as interesting, they all look the same and they're in high school. there are three college aged kids i've met here who i kindof like, met them through my parents. but i don't actually KNOW any of them and it's really awkward seeing them considering it was basically set up by our parents, like it's a playdate, like we're in kindergarten. and anyway, having friends here would mean that i would be here. i don't want to be here, i want to be at home. home is the city and home is simon's rock. i have to wait three months to go back to simon's rock, and i'm only in the city when i manage to sneak out after my parents went to sleep to go see stef and justin at matt's house (hi stef!). so i'm homesick and bored and unhappy and it's hot here and JESUS CHRIST, IT'S ONLY JUNE!
