My Life in Retail in a Nut Shell

It is astounding how negativity can spread like a virus. What is more astounding is how the small things can make or break a good day. So when I was ringing up a woman at work today, I really wasn't expecting my day to go sour when I asked for a photo ID to verify her signature. When she showed me her Costco card (that has a photo but no signature), I asked again for something with a signature. For some reason, other than the fact that her hands were full of Tiki torches (by the way, I offered to take those from her so she could root through her wallet for the ID), she flew up in a rage. She demanded her receipt, looked at my name tag for my identity, and told me with all a manner of vitriol and spite what "fabulous customer service" I had provided. On a side note, this was all in front of her seemingly eleven-year-old daughter. After hearing a profuse apology from the woman behind her, my co-worker rushed to my register, asking if I was okay. Apparently, the harpy had gone to returns to vent to my cohorts, saying "Just so you know, the cashier, Ellie, is a bitch." Obviously, being the big weenie that I am, I started crying and banished myself to the bathroom for ten minutes. The big question is: what kind of person take their anger out on someone they don't even know?

First World, First Pain

A song in my head, bluebells and twittering sparrows, and
my day is, so assuredly, sunshine, golden and warm.
Free from the nettles and spew of bitter times is my feather-heart.

But you seek to usurp my pedestal.
Acetone and tar, you blacken and corrode.
All this for your petty first-world needs.

I had done nothing to you; your words, sharp as obsidian arrows,
they spear me with confusion.
There are children in the world starving, killing for one sip of water.
There are men slaughtering their brothers
all for the chance to be someone to another who will
only seek to grant them the same oblivion.

And you think your problems are so significant.
Your minor inconvenience has done you no permanent harm,
while others are left orphaned and widowed and malnourished.
Yet you seek to darken my sky with clouds.
I have not earned the right to look into the sun because your world is
imperfect, marred, tainted with inconsequential nothings.

My fault, my punishment.
The bluebells are gone.
All that was gold is now steel and rain.
Job well done:
You've pushed my last button.
Does that make you better than me?
Or is all that spittle and venom wasted on a good day?

Oh God. It is Actually About to Happen.

My mom has a best friend who is very spiritual. She has all sorts of enlightening little phrases posted around her house, crosses and pentagrams, pictures of the Virgin Mother and Jesus and other related paraphernalia. In her guest bathroom, there's one that, in a few words, says that we do not fear failure. Instead we fear success. It really has never occurred to me how true that is. Until now. I believe the word I'd use for myself right now is "chicken". At least, that is the first half of the word...

I am leaving in a little more than a month, and I was excited. Seriously, I was so stoked about going and pursuing my dreams, to leave nothing behind but the dust I kick up. Now...I am panicking. It is actually happening. I am leaving. And there aren't any present issues that I can't handle; I know what I'm doing. But the thought of leaving some of the people I've bonded with in the last year and a half...it is killing me. And I don't want to lose them. I don't want to miss out on my little sister's seventh birthday. I don't want to leave my new kitten to bond with someone else. And I sure as hell as not crazy about the idea of becoming a memory to my friends.

It strikes me, though, that success always must come with personal sacrifice. Is moving forward worth all that I am losing? I have moved before, several times, in fact, and I have healed. I am a relatively normal human being despite all the good-byes I've said. Will a few more be that terrible?

I've reassured them all that I will return, for birthdays, for Christmas, for summer, for what have you. I'm coming back. Everyone is excited for me, though many have begged my parents to make me stay. They all want me to do well and be happy, and this is what I've been aiming for forever. I'm doing what I always said I would. So why does it feel so bittersweet?

I will be frank: I may or may not have also developed a very singular attachment to someone, someone who has brought out a very singular woman in me.  I've never felt like this with anyone before, never felt this kind of safety with someone, and we're finally starting to progress in our relationship...only to have him watch me leave. I have never, ever, hated myself so much in my entire life. The one time I feel like someone could handle the job of keeping me happy, and I am caught between my career and my love life. Do I really want to give up what I have here, with him, to further my life along? I mean, I'm really fond of the guy, almost to the point of...well...

The obvious but painful answer is, yes, I do. It hurts like a shot through the heart, but I do. I have to. Because I want to make a difference. And who knows? Maybe I will come back, to stay and rekindle old friendships, even old flames. I can't count on it, as awful as it is, but I have to make the choice with the least amount of regret behind it. And I know I will forever regret staying behind and not pursuing my dreams. Time heals, does it not? And my broken heart...it's going to need a lot of time.

Anyways. Being that I most likely will not be continuing my cooperation with the blog I have been working with for so long, due to my relocation, it looks like I'll be back on my old schedule, as best as I can manage. I will be writing poetry, along with my novel (I'm on page 71, guys!), and working towards my bachelor's. I just have to do what feels right...my only wish is that it was more black and white than this. But beggars can't be choosers, and I have to deal with what I have. God save me, I hope this is the right thing to do.