Just hit the inhaler again. I might die. On a side note, 10 random things

1. I miss the late night noises. I don't necessarily miss working nights, but I also don't mind it. My destiny is never to be a Monday through Friday 9am - 5pm girl. I just hate how much turmoil it causes with family and friends. And not seeing man-pants for days on ends. I won't see him again until he gets off work Monday. 
2. I have been having almost asthma attacks for the past three nights. I contributed it to the insane amount of olives at my new job (it has happened every shift I have worked there and also eaten food.) But today I was careful. And it was the worst one yet. Man-pants meticulously cleaned the house, thinking it was just that we hadn't been super clean lately and I am allergic to both our pets. I hit a 10 year old inhaler about 10 times and I could finally breathe. Yes, yes, I know. That is so dangerous. I also took about 5 times the recommended dose of antihistamines. I'm not good at following rules.
3. I really bonded with the AGM at the new job today. We have spent 43 hours in 4 days chained to each other and it turns out...he is that guy who tries to show off the things about himself he thinks are cool. Like, he never talks about his kid or his wife, but I have heard 7 MILLION things about his taste in crappy emo-rock music. He calls it metal. Psht. 
4. I witnessed a man dragging a dummy dressed in a wedding dress down one of the busiest streets downtown. I thought it was a human and screamed. He was dragging her by her hair. It was the weirdest thing I have seen this week. Give it time....downtown is always entertaining.
5. I destroyed my hair dying it back to normal people hair colors. And today it looked like there was a tidal wave on top of my head. I straighten it (it isn't curly naturally since the treatment) and it stays straight for like 15 minutes and then it just sort of does whatever the fuck it wants. At least all of the little 21 year old hostesses got a huge kick out of my crazy ass hair. They are adorable. Like, shoot me in the face adorable. 
6. DID YOU KNOW OTTERS RAPE BABY SEALS UNTIL THEY ARE DEAD AND TOO DECOMPOSED TO RAPE? I am sorry if I just ruined your day. But my dreams of a pet otter are over and I needed to share my pain. Also, dolphins gang rape. Yes, I read some article on the sexual habits of sea-life. It is the biggest mistake I have made to date.
7. There is a woman at new job who is actually trying to play the "out bitch the new bitch" card. This may just be a women who work in restaurants thing. I don't know. I personally find this whole charade tiresome. I am just myself and generally earn respect. Sometimes I have to pull people aside and give the whole "just because I am not screaming at you does not mean I am a pushover" speech. I have witnessed (what I have now dubbed) the "I'm not your bitch, bitch" stand off between two women before. And it is HILARIOUS. And sad. Mostly because as a minority in the industry, we should support each other. But, whatever. I will just watch as everyone sees her game and sees me not playing it. Even if I lose respect for not playing. Don't care. Don't see strong women as a threat. 
8. I really want to be tired enough to go to bed. I am destined to be up until 3am. Which is ok because I close tomorrow and won't even get off work until 1am. 
9. My old apartment complex has sort of spiraled out of control. After I moved out, so did every tenant except one. This included the acting apartment manager. So, when the owner (we will call her the slumlord bitch who never returned my security deposit DESPITE me finding the next tenant and her renting it to him without ever entering the property) posted a for rent sign...man-pants and I hid it several times a day. I will give slumlord bitch this...she should play hide and seek professionally because she always found it within a few hours and put it back out.  And, yes, yes I know. Take her to small claims court.
10. The cat is trying to lay on the laptop. This is the first cat-like thing he has ever done. Well, he kneads things. And meows. And is scared of laser pointers. Hates toys. Loves having his belly rubbed. And has penis shaped markings on his forehead. So, you know, sounds about like my cat.

Hey...sorry, not sorry about the absence. Sometimes you just have to figure shit out.

Hello?

Hello?

Tap. Tap.

Anyone out there?

I got home from work tonight and I just felt like blogging.

It started with a post on facebook from another blogger about it being National Infertility Awareness Week. And I composed a really long comment on a blog I have never read before and thought....huh. I feel like writing.

I doubt anyone is reading anymore. And I suppose that is ok too.

My last post was very negative. And things continued to be negative for a very long time after that. To some extent, it still is.

At some point the elation of not being unhappy wears off and you sit in a tiny, shitty apartment with no money and S.W.A.T. making an appearance more than once in a year...isn't once too many...and you think, I can't do this. This isn't me. I have never lived like this. I can't do this.

And that statement is not entirely true either. I guess it was two equal reactions to one situation. There was the sheer happiness of feeling, well, free. Of finally being out of a relationship I honestly don't believe I should have ever been in from the start. We were never suited for each other. But we liked each other well enough. And we got along for a while. And we made each other less lonely. But it wasn't happiness and it was stifling.

Getting away from that was extremely freeing. So, I was just so thrilled with EVERYTHING that was different and everything that allowed me to be me.

Then the reality of none of my friends and family ever wanting to come visit me because they were scared hit. And instead of sticking up for the neighborhood I love, I started to hate it. I started to get down on myself for being 33 fucking years old and not doing better, not being better.

Both of these feelings were wrong for me. Neither exactly fit me, despite how much I wanted them to.

And during all of this I was trying to figure out a very intense, very fast moving relationship with the only person I can honestly say knows everything about me.

So, yeah.

We got a new apartment just down the street. It's much nicer and not embarrassing, despite being tiny, with the promise that we were going to use this time (OUR RENT IS ONLY $485) to save up a lot of money and to DO things. And put ourselves in a position to actually have some place we are proud of in the neighborhood we love.

I got a new job. A big girl job. Like, for real this time. It is for a fine dining restaurant chain that has restaurants in 33 states and is projected to make $500 million dollars this year. Just to give you an idea of how much money they are paying me....I am eligible for $5000/year in bonuses.

My thirties taught me something very important. I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHO I AM. And for a while I was embarrassed about who I was. I was embarrassed and I don't know why.

I had to dye my hair back to "natural" colors for this job. I have to wear sleeves to cover my tattoos. I will never make friends with any of the people I work with because they aren't the kind of people I want as friends. And you know what, that is ok. I have a job to do and I am fine showing up and just doing it. There are multiple reasons for that...one of them being...WORKING EXPO ON THAT LINE DURING A RUSH WILL MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SUCH A BAD ASS. Seriously. I watch the chefs do it now and am like, fucking shit. That is going to be me. I am going to control that kitchen like a fucking violin. It gives me this insane high I can't explain to even imagine doing that.

Right now I am doing front of house and busing tables and feel like an idiot. But, you know, I will get there.

Somebody asked me....do they make you feel bad about your tattoos? And your purple hair? And the neighborhood you choose to live in?

Yeah. They kind of do. Which makes me all that much more motivated to prove them wrong. To prove that I am just as good as them, if not better, at being a chef.

I'm sick of being made to feel like I am not as good as someone else because my lifestyle choice is not the same as theirs.

My body will be covered in tattoos one day. My hair would be purple again if I could. I will always live in my little hood that loves and embraces me because, frankly, the diversity of people I meet on a day to day basis make me happy. The thought of living in the suburbs makes me cringe. I am not saying there isn't some level of diversity, but it is generally the same income level with similar values and similar lifestyles. I meet conservative republicans covered in tattoos and talk politics with them. I meet former meth addicts that have turned their life around and own their own home and have a great job and are often buying me drinks at the bar. I meet people like me, who just didn't know where they fit in.

And somehow we all fit in here. In this fucked up kind of crime ridden neighborhood. And they all love me for exactly who I am.

I just have to teach myself to feel the same. Because I am awesome and bad ass and can do anything I set my mind to.

It just took me 5 months to figure that out. Or maybe 33 years. But it's true. Insecurities are one thing, but doubting my entire identity is another. And I refuse to do it again.