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Saturday, September 20, 2003
Voronwe

Voronwe is an elvish term, meaning 'steadfast'. Steadfast - adj. 'Firmly loyal or constant'.

While it has little to do with what I plan on doing for this page, it has much to do with how I see myself. Perhaps I should have searched for the word meaning 'naive'. But I prefer to simply think of me as unswerving, firmly fixed on the course I chose and the people I believe in.

This page is more of a place to spew forth my feelings. I would use the term angst, as so many do. But the meaning isn't proper. I'm not sure that anyone's actually paused to reflect on what the word 'angst' actually means. 'A feeling of anxiety or apprehension often accompanied by depression.'

Not that I haven't got my fair share of that. I'm pretty sure it could be applied, medically speaking, to my entire family. Yet it's not the term that I'm looking for. I believe what I truly mean is discontent. With damn near everything.

I work the graveyard shift at a 24 hour gas station/convenience store. Usually from 9:30pm until 7:00am. And come home seething, unable to wind down for hours. By Sunday, I'm driving home a zombie from lack of sleep, and no real way to vent my aggression towards the world in general.

What I truly believe is that no one stops to consider that the person working behind the counter is an actual human being. With emotions and opinions that don't always mesh with yours. I'm being paid to be polite. To take all the shit that's shoveled at me, and do it with a smile. That doesn't mean that I like you. Chances are good that I truly don't.

There are very few people that I enjoy catering to. Even the people that I like to see come into the store treat me as slightly beneath them. Yet I am intelligent. Not brilliant, I have no such lofty opinion of myself. Average, though, I can claim. I read and write and think and dream, and it was not my goal when I graduated out of high school and into the real world to be working at a gas station.

But it's where I've ended up, and I refuse to be ashamed of it. Any more than I'll be ashamed of working four years slinging burgers at a Wendy's. Or a year as a chambermaid. Or seven years as a cooking, cleaning errand girl for an elderly woman.

It's an eclectic collection of jobs, to be sure. I didn't truly come into my own until those years at Wendy's. Before then, I was completely ignorable. I was one of those silent people, who walk with their heads down, hair covering their eyes. I never spoke, never met a glance. Even after a year in college, I was completely introverted. When I dropped out, it came not only as a shock to myself, but to everyone around me. Graduating college was what was expected of me, and therefore everyone simply assumed I would do it.

I couldn't, though. I knew before I ever applied that I simply didn't want to. So ended up not as an English teacher, as per planned, but a burger slinger. It was at Wendy's that I first worked with, or for, the public in any capacity. Where speaking to people was mandatory, as was holding my head up enough to look them in the eye as I took that order.

When people ask me 'Why are you such a bitch?' I have to laugh. And tell them that I never was, until I worked at Wendy's. I don't mind being called a bitch. I'm kind of proud of it. Because I was just a cacoon before. Wrapped up so tightly around myself that I couldn't see the world around me. And no one could see in. I wouldn't let them.

Even so, being an outspoken and opinionated person has it's down sides. It's hard to clench my teeth and hold back the words that want to come bursting out. It's hard to take everything in stride. And there's a part of me that still struggles to slip back into the cacoon. Because it's easier to let it all bounce off, to not take it as a personal affront every time someone does something or says something that makes me crazy. It's easier not to have an opinion.

I just can't help myself. And I need this page. Because I can't take it anymore. If I don't have a place to scream it all out, I'll go insane. I don't remember when I became so tightly wound. But there's only so much slack, and any more twists and I'll pop like an over full balloon. Maybe no one is listening. Maybe no one cares.

Or maybe some sad schmuck in the same position will peek in and find some small relief in seeing that YES! Someone DOES understand. Perhaps you're one of those people who dismisses the person behind the counter as an fool who couldn't do any better.

We're not fools. I'm not a fool. I won't twist myself to fit within the lines and go work for MBNA. And really that's the only truly 'respectable' job around here, that I'm qualified for. I don't LIKE this job, but I'll do it to pay the bills. So if you are one of those people, think about it next time. Before you dismiss that person as beneath you. Maybe you'll be surprised by what you truly find.

Posted at 9/20/2003 9:41:35 pm by Erasea
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