January 30, 2002
Fucking Fish and Texans
Two things about today.
one. Mom and I got all jazzed up (please, I beg of you, pardon the expression as I have not had a very good day) and left the house to go and apply at Red Lobster. We were going to sashay and conquer our way into gainful employment. I was feeling extra-cute (a rarity, these days) in my leather boots and my seventies thrift jacket. So we're in Red Lobster, and I am grinning at the poor little lobsters in the tank before going to fill out an application. We had to take a test, too, with math problems and analogies and shit, and they kept talking about the mission statement of Red Lobster and I was just groaning and bullshitting my way through it. Needless to say, it wasn't difficult, though it took me a half-hour for all the dumb-ass questions.
So Mom and I do little dances in the car because we think we are finally going to be employed, seeing as the lady was really nice and called us by our first names and everything. She asked us to call back in about an hour and see how we did on the test.
Mom calls back.
And our applications have been discontinued. We, apparently, failed, or something. She didn't tell us.
So I can graduate high school in the top 5% of my class and be accepted to college but I am not good enough to be a fucking hostess at fucking Red Lobster?
Apparently so.
Too bad. I really wanted to wear one of those absolutely hideous fish polo shirts.
Two. Ryan called. And I vomited forth all the anger and tears that have been welling up inside me the past couple of days, and managed to say that I think he is going to lose me if he keeps treating me this way. That he no longer makes me feel like I am an important part of his life, like I'm just some girl he calls twice a week.
I'm sighing. I'm hoping that this time he isn't just smiling and nodding and saying he'll try and then not changing at all.
I miss him just as much as ever, I love him more for the things I learn about him everyday. But I can't be in a long distance relationship by myself.
astera at 9:41 p.m.