It Needs to be Warm
current location: Work Cave
current mood: depressed
current song: 104.5 I think
Ack, there were reasons I went to college in the south. Snow is nice, but not when I have to commute 90 minutes to get into work!
I don't even remember the last time I wrote in this thing, but I imagine a lot has happened since my last entry. I'll vent as carefully as possible and hopefully everyone can keep up! If not, well, I'm sure I'll be writing in this way more often since my new boyfriend checks my MySpace all the time.
This weekend was shit. Actually, every day these days is shit. This job gets worse and worse. What kills me is, all they need to do is give me a standard of living raise for once, or have monetary value added to my review. I would take it! My review was classic. It basically went like this: "You're doing a great job. As a matter of fact, you're doing a fantastic job. Keep it up, and we'll just continue to tweak techniques so you feel challenged at your job. Oh, you might have noticed that some of your numbers (1, 2, or 3) have been lowered just a bit. We feel that you are exceptional, but you cannot be THAT exceptional in a failing office. That being said, thanks for all the hard work!" Mixed messages, I think. My poor boss gave it to me as best he could. Sucks. This past weekend was the first wave of a whole hell of a lot of course starts. My kids were golden. I had everything out. All kids had their books, (I tracked them through the website obsessively on Thursday and Friday), knew where to go, and knew what to expect. I had sent extra materials to the instructors so they could hand out materials to anyone who signed up late or whom FedEx screwed over. Perfect.
Didn't matter. All my hard work, working through my lunches last week, everything... didn't matter in the least. One location decided to leave the doors locked. The other one had an instructor who couldn't rent a car in time for the test on Saturday. So I wake up on Saturday morning at 830am to a frantic phone call from a coworker. "Please! Proctor for us at Downingtown!" Um, no. I worked hella long all week, including extra time I won't be compensated for, and you want me to go down there and proctor too?! I would have been late anyway. I spent the rest of the weekend hating my life and worrying about Monday, which ended up being just as terrible as I'd feared.
And finally, I decided, I'm done. The stupidest thing ever is having to be on call when I work at a TEST PREP COMPANY. This is not life and death, although some of the clientel might think so. Not only did I worry about the weekend, but I had my boyfriend explain to me again how I devalue myself at this job. Then he went into all this math and came up with, after subtracting the money I spend on transportation and the extra time I spend commuting, I actually only make $8/hr net. GREAT. If I didn't feel lousy enough. Then I got out of bed and threw up in the bathroom.
By "I'm done" I mean I'm quitting in February. I'm not a complete bitch, and will be spending almost the entirety of spring hell working here, but I planned to have my last day be February 26th. I'm at the point where I don't sleep, I'm sick every morning, I cry on my way home, I don't eat, and I don't care about the students anymore. I will figure something else out. If I have to take on like 3 jobs, that's fine. I'll do it. I'll do anything I have to to make this work. My mom is currently researching cheap health insurance that I can pay for separately from a job. I'm figuring out good schedules, working through some logistics, and then alerting management. I'll give my two weeks on February 12th. DONE.
So, my life was going alright with the boyfriend. I was doing a good job not falling for him. (He was the one who was in love with his fiancee of 5 years when she dumped him two weeks before their wedding last August because she wasn't ready to marry him or something. It might have also had to do with the fact that she was boning his friend). Well, I think I'm dangerously close to hurting when he dumps me. Usually things are fine. I understand he needs to talk about his ex. I'm his friend first. What worries me is when he gets into how he's scared that I might just be a rebound. Um, he's not allowed to be afraid of that!!! I'm allowed to be afraid of that because there's no way for me to know until after he dumps me. But he should at least know, right? If he doesn't know, then we're all f***ed.
He's also really good at being pushy. I don't WANT to move in with him yet. How is that going to be? He tells me he's not sure why we got together so fast, and he's afraid it might be because I'm a rebound, and once he's over his ex, he'll be over me. And then he insists that we move in together?! Those two things don't add up. I appreciate his honesty thing, but I hate being unsure of myself.
So now I'm back to where I was, concentrating on only the things I can control. That would be quitting my job and making my life better. When May roles around and my boy's lease is up, I'm going to put my foot down and tell him no to moving in together, (unless I'm feeling more confident about us by then, which is possible). I need to be happy before I start seriously dating someone. I probably should have held off on this one. I just wasn't thinking. That's all.
So while he is amazing in most ways, I will continue to hold back because I really am freakin scared of a broken heart. I can't feel the way I felt in May of 2008 again. It might kill me. So I'll just continue to take it slow. I also try to be honest with him, but for some reason, I'm really good at hurting his feelings. I don't want to hurt him! I just wish he would stop being so unsure about things. It's not like we're getting married. We're just dating. I have no idea why he would be all worked up about things.
Um, I joined a dodgeball team. My boy's roommate formed the team and needed at least two girls. Yep, one's me. Our first game is tonight and I'm really worried about it! I haven't played dodgeball since elementary school. I was good then, but I doubt I'm good at it now. Plus, the boys were wussies in elementary school! I doubt they're the same kind of wuss now. ::sigh:: Oh life, how you mock me!