I apologize.

My job (the waitressing, not the writing) has been draining me of all of my vital life energies lately. The constant racism ("don't seat me black tables", they'll say. Or, when someone gets stiffed, "oh, they were black, weren't they?"), rudeness, sense of self-importance (why do people think their bad day/shift gives them the right to be so shitty to people?) , silly corporate-ness (if someone tells me to 'sizzle' something one more time... ), has been really bringing me down. Tonight a much older, much more slightly insane waiter basically robbed me, then called me the 'c-word' behind my back. But the rumor is he might get fired, so I was told by management to not take it personally... still, I would like my $35 dollars, and I resent being called that diry, mean word.

In high school things like this didn't bother me. But I've seen the other side. I've been excited to go to work, I've had the exhilerating feeling of being compensated for doing something I love. Going back to counting down the hours and trying not to scream feels wrong. I thought I did everything I was supposed to do. The studying, the straight A's, the badass internships. Cut me a break, real world.

Okay. Drama queen out. Mad love to my roadtrippers.