why am i so odd?

in the title of this entery, i'm not saying that i'm ashamed of my strangeness, far from it! but i do often wonder why? what is different inside my mind that makes me so different from other 19-year-old girls?

why do i seem to be the only one who can't stand today's pop culture? who would take beatles over beiber any day? who is so desperately passionate about pre-color-age films, especailly the silent ones? why were my first on-screen crushes (who still make my throat knot when they look directly into the camera) the ones that have scared/disturbed/weirded out other viewers for decades?

why do i disdain the things that people love, often regardless of what those things are? why do i find a fondness for the things others would do without? why do things like abandoned theatres and rusty oil drums inspire more happiness than shopping malls and gardens? why do i constantly find myself rooting for the "bad" guys, when i still count myself as "good" (for the most part)?

why am i talented at some things, like art, writing, music, sewing and design, and public speaking to large numbers, when i'm so aweful at basic things like coordination, dancing, social communication, directional cognition, and voicing complaints when some dearly need to be made?

why do i find beauty in ugliness, decay, and abandonment? why do i favor things like left, down, and behind, under the impression that they tend to be slighted by the masses? why do i tend to feel offended at compliments that i'm unused to? why does the idea of a party make me want to vomit, when the idea of being stuck in solitude for many days gets me excited?

why do i fear beauty? why do i have the suspicion that, if a man ever falls in love with me on a day i happen to look good, he would never accept me for all my weirdness?

and, above all, why am i okay with this? shouldn't these things bother me?

well, i suppose they would, if i were typical. but, seeing as i AM this odd, it doesn't bother me as much as it could.... still.... would be nice to know why.......

job update: for those who care

i now officially have a job i hate. blah!

last i posted, i'd just gotten the job at the pizza joint. i was so excited to have it. i looked forward to doing it. i liked my coworkers, i liked my boss, i liked the products, i even liked the outfit.

well, guess what.

i was wrong.

let's start at the beginning, shall we?

i started as a waitress in training. i followed other waitresses around and did their bidding. that was fine, i assumed it was necissary. i was kept very busy, even after the place closed; i did EVERYONE'S chores "because i needed to get familliar with the work".... well, ok, i guess i can see the value in that. but, when i ask a question, don't answer with "it's self-explainitory" with a she's-an-idiot face.

and here's the thing with waitress earnings: most of it is tips. seriously. i was a waitress in training: i wasn't allowed to make tips. so all of my earnings ammounted to the $4.25 per hour i made. it wasn't enough for a full tank of gas. the only tip i made i found while doing dishes: it was a quarter stuck to a ranch-covered plate that no one wanted to touch. screw 'em, it's mine, now!

spent it on overspill gas.

then the phones rang. i didn't know how to use the phones, or the computers to place orders, or the cash register.... i screwed up over twenty orders in a five-hour shift. i was blamed, and when i asked if someone could show me how the stuff all friggin' works, they said "too busy"....

and my fellow waitresses? 2-faced bertruger-hures! (that was german, by the way) they are sweet and accomodating to the customers, and evil and nasty behind the counter, assuming the patrons can't hear them ten feet away. also assuming i can't hear them through the door to the kitchen, where i'm doing dishes....

i *love* when people, especially annoying people, talk about me behind my back. it makes me feel like the most important thing in their lives.

and as for my boss: it turns out applicants aren't the only ones to hide their true character during the interview. that's all i'm going to say there.

that was the first week.

following my first week was two weeks without work hours. when i was finally allowed back, i was sent to the kitchen, where i wouldn't be allowed to interact with the public. i liked it better back there, anyway. it was all cement and metal, with narrow walkways between crowded shelves and large, groaning metal machinery, chained to one specific spot, unless some manner of physical labor was needed... kinda like a dungeon, but more delicious-smelling.

but i was slow, and slowness in the kitchen is not rewarded. so the majority of what i do now is everyone else's preparation for the next day: placing discs of frozen dough on oiled pans, piling them up in the walk-in freezer (the inner-sanctum of dungeonry), and flipping the toppings table. i still piss people off, and i'm not allwoed near the phones, and my face and hair are seriously suffering for toiling in the immediate vicinity of oily air. but at least i'm not the bane of existance, anymore...

only one person in the entire place seems to realize that i actually am trying, that i'm just a major klutz is all. after i make a mistake, instead of hating me forevermore, like everyone else in the place, if he's mad at all, he's cool again in five minutes, singing to the radio (pop hits, his only bad point so far) and dancing suggestively with the broom (makes up for the poppiness of the music, 'cause it's hillarious).

so, yeah, hate my job. hate my boss. hate most of my coworkers. hate the choice of music in the kitchen (pop or country... add in "gangstah" rap, and you got everything that most annoys me). still am not entirely sure how to work my paycheck (i get payed in MasterCard credit... is that unusual?).

but, hey, i still love the pizza (which i do not get a discount for!)....

that discount thing was the last grain of rice to tilt the scale in favor of this decision:

i am looking for a new job!