Trying to figure out a way to tell you what I’m feeling / But I just can’t get the words off my chest

I think in emotions and images for thoughts that haven’t become solid and firm and once I’ve decided on something, there are words involved. This is all in my subconscious, but once I realized how it worked, I also figured out that my subconscious was smarter than I am and knows better. It knew that I needed to get out and away from AP, it knew that B wasn’t a real relationship or any good for me, and it knew that MW (my fuck buddy) was fucking nuts and again not good for me. I’ve learned to trust my subconscious. So once my thoughts start having words, I know that its what’s right and best for me. (I also tend to call my subconscious my brain hamsters in the sense that they can run around in the background doing all the work for me and making me sound like I’ve just had these awesome revelations out of the blue when in reality I’ve been working on them for a while.)

So when my conscious mind starts worrying about something, I try not to give it too much attention because my brain hamsters have already been on the job trying to give me the right answer. Easier said than done most of the time. But I know that my brain hamsters have already been working on the problem (if there is a problem at all) and will give me any answers I need.

But that being said, I ALWAYS get anxious before going into a situation that I have never been in before. A good example of this is when I was interviewing for colleges in Chicago my senior year in high school. My entire collegiate experience rested on me doing well in at least one of these interviews so that I could go to a program that I wanted and study what I wanted. The morning of my first of four interviews, I was an emotional wreck. I couldn’t decide anything for myself, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to eat in the room or go down to the restaurant for breakfast. So my mom decided that for me. And once I was down in the hallways on the floor where the interviews were being conducted… I was completely fine. My brain hamsters (though I didn’t call them that at the time) had given me the answers I needed and I was fine. So I’m hoping the same thing happens for dinner on Tuesday. Tuesday’s dinner is a long story that I’m not going to share online with everyone and their crazy uncle Bob to read about. It’s nothing I’m hiding, its just not for everyone to know, plus the actual nature of what might happen Tuesday isn’t confirmed yet and I don’t want to jump the gun. But don’t worry, I will tell you if anything actually comes up, and if my brain hamsters actually calm down my anxiety. 

And yes, Amanda tells me there’s nothing to worry about. 🙂

 

Starting to spend a lot of time at Shameless Grounds (the coffee shop where Amanda works). I was here Saturday during the day, Saturday night for the drag show, and now Amanda is working tonight to cover for one of her coworkers. And then I’ll be here tomorrow night when she’s working for Trivia night. 

One thing my brain hamsters and I agree on is that we prefer to be here at night when Amanda works. I know she can take care of herself and doesn’t need me to protect her, but I’m going to anyways, at least in this one instance. Plus, I get to see her when things aren’t too busy, the food is good, the company is good, and it’s just a good place to hang out. But I’m sorry, it’s in a not fantastic part of town, and at night I just feel better being here to make sure that everything is okay, especially when she’s closing up mostly alone. 

So tonight I play kinky bingo. Tomorrow I play trivia. And I enjoy lots of coffee and sandwiches and potato salad. I also write many blog posts. So you gentle readers get to enjoy my many hours at Shameless Grounds as well. 

Make sure you tip your wait staff.

I saw a picture on Facebook that was of an angry cat and it said, “Why tip 18% to your waitress when you give God 10%? Because your waitress exists.” True enough anyways. Even if God does exist, and I’m not here to get into a religious debate (You’re not going to change my mind about my platonic existentialism, so don’t even try.) I would like to believe that the God my parents worship would WANT you to tip that individual who brings you your food and who works for a living, and would want you to give that person, one of his/her/its/whatever’s creations more money than you give to an institution that encourages charity and kindness to your fellow humans… since that was what the institution should do anyways. 

 

So, Sarah’s 

advice of the post – Tip your waitstaff. They handle your food.

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