Social LIfe + Me = Chaos

I think I'm well rounded as a private person. I will admit personally that I'm no good when it comes to my social skills. On top of that, I don't know how to deal with people. And so what do I do? I don't. I don't do anything at all.

I've always been like that. Unless someone greets me first, I have reserves about initiating anything along the lines of introductions or small talk. I like to remain in my own little world if possible. This is where I feel comfortable. I know all the people in my little world and I know I don't have to do anything unecessarily excessive.

And maybe I've just never given a care about whether other people care to know that I exist. I have my significant family and friends. And that's enough for me. I'm a very simple person.

Over the past three years of working in a social setting, however, I though that I've at least improved. When I'm at work and facing clients, it's easier for me to smile like an idiot and greet and make small talk. But this is an obligation that comes in tune with working in hospitality-- a customer service necessity. Outside of work, I think I revert back to my old self where I will not look at other people at all unless they are directly related to me somehow-- a friend, a family member, a coworker, some acquaintance I may have met somewhere who looks familiar and who seems to recognize me too.

But of course, I don't take the initiative to meet new people. And then when new people take the initiative to come and say hello... well, I think I become a complete jerk. I clam up; I don't talk; I avoid eye contact; I just avoid, avoid and I avoid.

To tell the truth, I don't know how I feel about that. I'm not sure if I'm doing it out of natural habit or if I'm doing it because I just don't feel comfortable meeting new people. Frankly, I've always liked my life of solitude-- I stay at home and occasionally go out with friends. My hobby involves being by myself as I type away senselessly at works of writing that will probably never be finished.

I'm comfortable with my small circle of people. I live in a small, small bubbly world. It makes me feel at ease and it makes me happy.

And yet I know I want to expand my social circle, even if just a tiny bit. Because I know that it's good to have connections, to have good networking, to have another friend rather than an enemy. I'm always commenting that my best friend needs to learn how to expand her social circle a little bit; that she needs to meet new people, date more guys and not dwell on a seven year relationship that probably isn't even working out. It probably isn't even a seven year relationship, but it's been long enough for her to know whether or not she should move on.

But saying is a lot easier than actually doing. Because I'm the big, crybaby hypocrite who can't even take the time of day to learn how to properly socialize with new people. Because I'm the idiot who would scowl at every man who tries to be friendly. I've already claimed my spinsterhood because I know what kind of a person I am; and I've long ago quit asking those stupid "why" questions about my non-existent love life and why it doesn't exist.

Because if a guy wasn't interested before, he won't be interested at all. And if he does become interested somehow, he will lose interest quickly. I don't make it easy for people to like me at first impression. I don't act cute, I don't act girly, and I sure as hell am not friendly or talkative enough to hold interest.

Yes. I know all of that.

I just don't know why I do it. I don't know if I'm just uncomfortable with change-- because if one day I do end up finding some guy entering my life in an unheard of way, I know it will be a massive change. I don't know if I'm just being difficult because I'm a self-piteous stubborn girl. Maybe I've just never been able to break out of that introverted, private bubble of mine. Maybe I just don't know how to talk to people and prefer to remain silent otherwise.

Or maybe I'm just some weird and twisted, mentally unstable person who would prefer that life stood still as it is. No new people, no new changes, and no new surprises may make me happier. I like to watch as life happens around me, but I prefer for it not to happen to me. It's as if I'm a viewer, a reader, or a writer and everything that's happening is really just another story unfolding in front of my eyes. And I'm simply sitting there and spectating. There is no need for me to go anywhere and there is no need for me to accept any interruptions.

Am I a little too stubborn in my own ways?

The Holidays are Scary

I cannot wait for everything to be officially over. Granted, I like going to Christmas parties, I like hanging out with my friends, and I love seasonal foods and whatnot. But I hate this rush rush of the holidays. It's almost as if everyone thinks they have no time in the world to slow down.

And that's when everyone gets cranky, and the next thing you know, the holidays are no longer happy ones.

I can't quite say that I get a so called "Christmas Break" like many others-- where I part time at, there is no such thing as a break. But it's fine by me since I have nothing else better to do with my time anyway. Money makes the world go round, more hours means more money, and so the world is making its rounds quite smoothly right now. Until you accidentally drop a dirty fork, knife, or spoon on someone... or if you mix up some drink orders at the bar and realize that you probably have to pay for it later.

Yeah... the holidays kind of suck for me right now.

I am looking forward to next month wherein I can finally beging studying in my newly chosen Medical Technology area and work fewer before the crack of dawn hours. If I have to serve another breakfast, I may just have to throw scrambled eggs at someone.

But anyway, as life has it, you must take what gets thrown your way. Or dodge it and then turn around and pick it up, cause someone's gotta pick it up before it rots and dies, right?

In recent non-social news of mine, I've been immersing myself in online games and such to waste away my time (and my brain). Writing has become a distant and slippery grasp for me, and my room could stand a little cleaning.

Otherwise, days are peachy.

I'm a Jerk... Read to Learn More

So for the past three weeks I've been hounded by my parents about enrollment and tuition and whether or not I've got my class schedule for next semester taken care of. I personally have been wondering about it as well, because, after all, this is my future career we're talking about here and this is really, really important to me.

Never mind that there are other issues in my life and never mind that people are asking me about my social life as well. I'm one tracked right now, and all I care about is my education and what I'm going to be doing after I graduate with yet another degree-- hopefully more useful than the last one.

"I'll take care of it," I've been telling my parents. "I've been accepted into the program, and I've paid my deposit for a seat. They have to let me enroll, no matter what." I didn't tell my parents that the current head of the department also told me that a lot of this stuff would be taken care of within the couple weeks after and before semester.

My parents, of course, only want results now.

"I've been in contact with her (the department head)," I tell my parents. "We're working on it." Okay, so it was a bit of a fib, but whatever anyone says, I have been in contact with the department head and I am slowly, but surely, working on it. It's just not working the way they (or even I for the matter) have been expecting it.

So in order to not feel like an ass for forgetting a lot of what I've been told about the enrollment process, I figure I would call out to the department and get word for word how it's all going to work. In which case, I can then relay to my parents that everything is going as planned and that there is no need to worry at all about anything... yet.

Of course, even though I'm a bit lax about this whole situation, I've had those moments where I'm panicking as well, thinking that I've been forgotten. After all, my acceptance letter hadn't been sent to me when all the other letters were sent out and I got a little worried that my second letter might have gotten mixed up again.

So I call...

"Well, what happened was, I was in a car wreck and I've been out for a week..."

Okay, this was NOT what I expected to hear from someone I was about to get on about forgetting about me.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you."

Double shit...

And then I commence my apologies for anything and everything I can think of that I may or may not have done wrong to this woman. I'm sorry for calling you at this time. I'm sorry if I'm rushing you. I'm sorry for bothering you. I had no idea. I'm sorry about what happened. I'm so, so, so sorry that I'm even living and breathing and giving you a hard time. Please accept my humble apologies because I don't deserve to live anymore.

And while I'm here apologizing, she's trying to rant about the new department head's decision to change all the schedules and flip flop things that shouldn't be touched. And I really should be listening because I already screwed up by assuming that I'd been forgotten and I was a little peeved...

Well... things will be worked out indeed. But before that, I think I need to go on a bit of a shopping trip to find this current department head a massive apology/thank you gift.

Because right now, I feel like the world's biggest ass.

I shall commence lamenting and try to repent my sins by offering sacrifices of my own blood, fat, and other bodily fluids that may help mankind out. Organ donations can be signed for at the front desk, but none are being distributed until I actually kick the bucket and die in my freak accident.

Just Another Day

I berate myself for having neglected this blog, but then again, I've been neglecting a lot of things I should be doing. I'm really bad like that.

The past few days have felt really hectic, even though only a handful of things have occurred.

For instance, my work schedule is kind of slackened now and I've really only worked four days this weeks. I even got Sunday off because another coworker wants more hours. And I'm thinking, I really don't care either way if I get hours, because I don't like this place. My boss is saying, "Are you sure you don't mind?" And I say, "Nah, I don't care either way. He can have my hours. It doesn't bother me." But what I'm really thinking is, "Yes, I get Sunday off! I get Sunday off! I don't have to wake up at six in the morning to go to work! Yay!"

My friend's birthday is coming up, and just as well, she had recently had a Christmas party. This time around, the two of us were smart and decided to plan the party for early December instead of later in the month. After all, everyone has plans by then and other parties to attend. We thought by doing it this way, the turn out would be a little bit better than the previous years.

Of course, people are fickle and inconsiderate, and a bunch of asses (excuse my language) and about five people called to cancel at the last minute. All-in-all, a handful of about ten people showed up.

But as my friend would say, only all the important people showed, so she was quite content about it.

As per most years, we made food... lots and lots of food. Brown sugar and pineapple juice glazed ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, desserts, etc., etc., and etc....

Everyone loves our ham, and we learned that cooking is really a trial and error method in order for us, in general, to actually make anything good. It's a secret and includes lots of "Did you glaze the ham yet?" "No." "Okay, I'll glaze it now." "But you just glazed it two minutes ago." "And?" "Yea, go glaze the ham."

We're chaotic cooks, but that's okay because the end result is favorable.

After the dinner party we went out where I displayed a quite ridiculously uncontrolled state of inebriation where I slightly remember what I did, but was being told otherwise. When I said that I didn't remember having done such a thing, I was laughed at for being trashed. I sure as hell remember a lot of things, even though it all seemed blurry, but apparently, there's not convincing people that I can actually remember things when I'm drunk. They think they can recreate the night for me and I wouldn't know the difference.

Right...

I'm not an idiot, but I guess I'll play along since it's not a big deal. No one was hurt in the process and everyone gets a good laugh. Yea, I tell people I don't really remember anything, but that has nothing to do with the alcohol as much as it has to do with my own ability to remember details that are significant.

But the night proved to be fun, and I spent the next couple days thinking that I did something that I normally wouldn't do to some guy, of which I shouldn't have had to worry because even drunk, I think I'm still a bit of a prude.

***

In other news, I've jumped back into the habit of writing my stories again, but the big issue is mostly about which one I feel I should work on. There are too many and I'm just not sure where to start.

I'm pathetic.