As you know from my previous post, I recently began working as a cashier. I love my job: It’s fun and easy and I get to force people to listen to me say weird things while I scan their stuff. I once described my arms as “Long and nimble, much like a praying mantis’” to a customer as I reached into their cart to scan a bag of dog food. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew that I’d made a mistake: The customer grimaced and I felt a knot of shame begin to form in my stomach. But despite my social faux pas, the customer continued to smile at me and engage in banal conversation about his week because he felt obligated to speak to me while I scanned. That was when I realized: There are no rules here. I can say pretty much anything I want, and they just have to deal with it. Never in my life have I ever felt so powerful.
But I digress. Even though my time spent as a cashier has been lovely, there is one downside: Germs. I come into contact with dozens of people during my shift. These people bring all sorts of diseases with them. I initially tried to combat this by washing my hands regularly and using hand sanitizer between customers, but it was to no avail: I am sick constantly, at least once every two weeks.
While I’d like to blame my never-ending state of disease completely on the customers, I must admit that I am at least partially at fault. Even though I always buy medicine (Using my employing discount yaaaaaaas [Is that the proper use of the word “Yaaaaaaas”?] [Please don’t judge me- I JUST WANT TO FIT IN]) I always forget to actually take it, causing my illness to last days longer than it actually should. This is never a problem that somebody should have.
Which brings me to the main point of this blog post: I am nineteen years old. That means that I am technically an adult. In some ways, I am perfectly adequate at life in the real world: I go to work, I attend my classes and I refrain from spending too much time sleeping my life away. In other ways, however, I am painfully inadequate. Case in point: I STILL DON’T HAVE MY DRIVERS LICENSE. I’ve been trying to learn how to drive for almost TWO YEARS and yet here I am, still relying on other people to give me rides. They say that they don’t mind, but I can practically see them folding under the metaphorical weight of my burden. Driving isn’t the only adult thing that I’ve failed to learn, but it is the thing that holds me back the most. Hopefully (fingers crossed) I’ll have my license within the next two weeks- I just need to learn how to parallel park without leaving a path of destruction in my wake.
I will turn twenty on May 21, 2015. Twenty years old. I really can’t believe it. It feels like just yesterday I was sitting in French class, struggling to conjugate my verbs (je ne parle pas Francais). Now, I’m only a few months away from my teenage years being behind me forever. One thing is for sure: I need to get my life together. That means *insert drumroll here* Project 36-me is back on!
…Do you guys remember Project 36-me? That lame self-improvement thing that I started doing a few months ago? Well, long story short: I failed. Miserably, at that. I ended up abandoning ship after about three weeks, choosing instead to waste my days away watching obscure documentaries and eating pie- delicious, delicious pie. But It’s back now! And it’s better than ever! I don’t expect to be a fully self-actualized human being by the time that I’m twenty, but I at least want to be marginally better than I am now. I’m setting the bar real low here, people. That way, any microscopic improvement will seem like an accomplishment.
Which, really, is all you can ask for.
PS. I will be blogging about my improvements/shortcomings here weekly. You know…just in case you care.