alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

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Ease My Mind?

I love Paula dearly, but it is a bit difficult to take her seriously in a situation like this. The Witches' Ball is tonight.

I bought a corset to go and everything [and for other events this month ;)] and I was going to go to Dolphin Dream and pick up my tickets, but $40 for a one-night masquerade ball with such little idea for costume aside from going as a prostitute (the theme is Bohemia & the Moulin Rouge) seems a little crazy, especially since I know I work myself to the point of insanity and may not even have the job at the end of next week, due to sickness-and-car-trouble-caused truancy.

On the upside of all this, if I do get to keep my job, the $40 I didn't spend missing out on this thing that seemed like it would be so much fun (and so Harry Potter-esque, no?) I can buy plates and towels and rugs and all kinds of other fun stuff in preparation for the big move that will hopefully take place sometime in April next year.

I need to get my act together. I really don't want to grow up though. The dress code and hours at my work are so oppressive, I am not the fun girl I used to be. Someone downtown even told me that I was beginning to look "very executive" and they didn't even know I was working.

I don't want to be a YUPPIE!

I hate reality. When I think about these things sometimes, I'm almost tempted to consider drugs. I mean, it's a bit of a shame I didn't have them around in high school. I could have had a bit of mindless bliss, along with an excuse as to why I failed so phenomenally.

Being able to graduate means nothing.

Now that I am working, too (this is the best part, trust me), I have money to do anything I please on the weekends, but I'm so tired from the week that I don't want to do anything. I finally have enough money to start raving again, and it's all to shit.

Soon, the summer will come, and I won't even notice because I'm not in school, I'll just have to work it away. And I know it sounds bad. I'm always complaining about how much I hate my job, and the dress-code, and the hours, but if I wasn't making money and having a small bit of freedom, I would probably jump off of a bridge.

Meaning: I'm fucked working and even more fucked not. I can't even enjoy my Wednesday nights anymore.

Bah.

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