Why I'm happy

I've been searching for the music that I left when I graduated high school, and I hadn't found it until today. For some reason, all of the mix cds in my car were at least two years old, and I was stuck listening to Camron's "Hey Ma" and "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne (sp?). On a streak of boredom, I looked through all my old VHS's and CDs in the family room and found a large stack of burned cds without titles. I played them in my room, and found one absolute gem.

Filled with the indie classics that I knew and loved, a cd with a smudged title barely reading "North American Scum" (I only knew what it said because I remember writing it nearly a year ago) reminded me that I didn't only listen to horrible rap music and catchy pop throughout my adolescence. Sure, a lot of the songs I had the mix were partly singles off the albums I was extracting from, but I found that I still knew all the words of "Shining On" by Big D, and I didn't know most of the words to a great Pavement song I lost track of after losing the mix I included it in. These songs really made my two hour drive down to work worth the minimum wage I'm getting paid.

I can't stand Robin (or so I call him), one of my fellow employees. I had to close with him, this scrawny 16 in appearance but 27 in real age server, who has no fucking clue how to treat a table. We started at Rosie's at the same time, but while I honestly told the owner I have only previously worked as a hostess and got the same job title as I already know, this little weasel lied to the owner and got put straight into serving, when the most service experience he has is as a pizza delivery boy. In result, I am stuck telling him not to call customers "guys", show him how to refill katchup, teach him about how to get a check off the table of guests who have stayed at their table far too long, and learn the customs of European diners. Why I am not a server now, I do not know. The world really is a cruel place.

Instead I am stuck making shitty tips in a less respectable position at an even less respectable restaurant, playing the girl who wants to get out more than anything. The owners are awful, the food is awful, and the only things keeping there are the money, the economic crisis, and the diamond-in-the-VERY-rough co-workers that make me crack up. If it weren't for any two of the three things, I'd be out of that place like it was on fire.

The much nicer restaurant that tried to hire me caught on fire, by the way. Weird that I didn't take that job.

On my way home I was able to listen to my mix tape from yesteryear again, and I enjoyed it just as immensly. Something happened, and I was "Head Over Heels" in love with my life again.