So lots is changing around the World.
First off, no more Pizza Jernt. Finally. I'm working 4 shifts a week at the bar. Eventually I'll figure out something to supplement that, but for now, I'm going to lay low and revel in the joy of having ONE job. I was so burnt out. Everything just sucked. I didn't have the energy to exercise, or eat right, let alone the sheer time it would have taken to do either of those things. I drank too much, ate to much crap food, smoked too many cigarettes. My hair was falling out in clumps, and I'm hoping now that I'm down to one "real" job, that will end and I'll have more time to take care of myself.
Secondly, I'm moving out of my apartment. Part of me is sad, because I truly loved my apartment. It was my first real grown-up feeling apartment, that I had for more than a month before a boyfriend moved in. Well, a boyfriend kind of moved in, but that's for later I suppose. In short, I was utterly drowning under the weight of my rent. 900 is alot of money to float by oneself when you're not making much money. I was in denial about this for awhile. I talked a bit about going back to Bourbon, going back to nightclubs, but the truth of it is, I don't WANT to. Sure, I sorely miss the money in nightclubs. The money all comes at a cost though. My sanity, my health, my social life, my family life, my outside interests... all of these things took a backseat to the schedule and demands of working in a high volume-high stress environment. For fucks sake, bar tending is supposed to be one of the most personally entertaining occupations on the planet. You work while everyone else plays, and the payoff is *supposed* to be liking your job, and cash at the end of the night. There needs to be a balance between the two, because I am here to tell you, that you can make all the damn money you want over the bar... if you hate where you are, the money can only calm your hate for awhile.
Thus, I join the ranks of the lower-paid and loving it.
My bills however, kept coming. It doesn't matter if you can sleep again at night. It doesn't matter if you don't have people spitting in your face, and you don't go to bed every sunday morning with Jameson on your breath and your underwear on backwards. The bills need to be paid, and I couldn't pay them.
At the risk of sounding, I don't know, all weird about this and shit, I guess I have to believe that people come into your life when they are supposed to. Allow me to explain.
When I got hired at the bar, I became fast friends with the couple that runs the kitchen. They're just awesome. In the coming months, they got to listen to the ginormous amount of crap that was swirling around me like I was the Pigpen of Bullshit. Fights with my then boyfriend, family crap, bills I couldn't pay, a tip jar not filled, fights with my then boyfriend because family crap was starting with bills I couldn't pay because my tip jar wasn't filled. The summer was a nightmare from start to finish. They had their own problems, and I think we honestly just ended up bonding over memebase because laughing at funny stuff on the interwebs was just about the only thing that was keeping us from LOSING OUR MINDS.
Around this time, good ole Sparky enters the picture. Honestly, I couldn't say that I paid much attention. We hardly worked together and I never saw much of him. Then one day he has the audacity to come into The Bar, not in his chef's gear. My first thought as he walked in with a collared shirt, nice jeans, boots and NO baseball hat: "are you fucking serious?". Who knew Sparky The Chef was attractive when he wasn't hiding under a black ball cap and and apron? Not I, as it seemed.
[Then lots of stuff happens that I don't particularly feel like getting into, mainly because I think I've thought about it enough, and don't want to anymore. It's done, it's over, and I'm truly not worse for the wear. I have accepted that stuff had to happen, otherwise certain things now might not be.]
After a few comments from both Sparky, and the occasional other coworker, I think to myself "Huh, I wonder if Sparky likes me?" Now being me, I'm female, and a have been working in restaurants and bars since I was a teenager. I blame that for my inability to truly notice when someone is hitting on me. It's not that everyone hits on me, mind you, it's that everyone around me is normally drunk and full of shit. I'm also not going to slip a note under the kitchen door that says "Do you like me?". Oh noooo. I'm going to take a page out of the mob's book and wait until I have enough Jameson to put down a common Irishman and THEN decide "It's PLAYTIME!". Or was it "CHARGE!"? I don't recall.
[details spared to protect the innocent]
I think it goes without saying, that by the end of the night, I could fill out that "do you like me" note my damn self and answered correctly. Things moved at lightening speed from there. Sparky is now My Boyfriend.
The K&C own a home, which we have so dubbed The Home For Wayward Adults. Sparky lives there. By the end of the month, so will I.
So, I'm moving in with my boyfriend of not-very-long, and I feel OK about it. Mainly because of a very long conversation with The K about it. This isn't The Boyfriend trying to march me into his quarters to keep me closer at hand- it's my friends are saving my fucking life. (OK, the boyfriend is the catalyst for all this, whatever...anyhoo...) They are not charging me rent. I was able to quit the Pizza Jernt. I HAD A REAL FREAKING DAY OFF. Not having to save up to pay rent has allowed me to get my hair done today. I nearly doubled over in the stylist's chair sobbing, from the sheer joy of feeling dye and scissors in my hair. I hadn't been able to spring for so much as a trim since February.
On top of all this, The K&C and Sparky are opening a second location, and that has meant stress, sleeplessness, bad moods, incredible joy, excitement, and a bevy of emotions that are probably rendering my sweet boyfriend more bipolar by the day. He will find a balance eventually, I'm sure of it. Being as how I'm not being asked to pay rent, I've thrown myself into being as helpful as possible. I have to admit it's hard to be so involved with something, and yet, so uninvolved. I'm just operating in the background. I'm getting better at keeping my thoughts to myself unless specifically asked, and trying to get used to the idea of hardly ever seeing Sparky unless I go down to the other shop, or he comes into The Bar. It's not my name out there, it's not my business, it's not truly my stress. These are my friends though, and it's hard to not get emotionally invested.
Everything is just so damn new I guess, the only option I have is just to accept things for the way they are. The old rules don't apply, and the person I was this time last year... she doesn't exist anymore. Frankly, I think I like this Me, better.
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