Monday, December 13, 2010

The Chronicles of Night Shifts: Night One

I have decided to start chronicling my night shifts. I used to work nights as a waitress and remember becoming very depressed and a very different person. I think I would like to have documentation to see at what point I really lose my mind and try to ward off the impending doom of depression.

I sit here listening to someone clanking their spoon in a bowl. I try talking out loud to myself or doing that weird thing where you pressurize your ears as if you want to pop them, in hopes of drowning out the sound. Once I think it has stopped, I listen intently and find the sound again therefore starting the whole process all over again because of course it takes this person about an hour to finish their cereal. I think that would be my hell. Sitting in a room with someone clanking their spoon in a bowl over and over; if anything, the fear of that makes me want to be a good person. I hope someone is actually eating and I am not just hearing this spoon sound. That would be the worst, to get up and go into the kitchen to confront the person about the level of noise they are producing with the spoon and to find no one there at all. I think one day that will happen to me. I always kind of psyche myself out that way. If I talk too much to myself in my head I worry I may lose track of my thoughts and accidentally create this other personality and this personality grows and grows until I start blacking out during the day and living my life as this new identity. A new identity wouldn't be too bad, as long as it was productive, and not a psychopath who went around killing people and then snap back into my primary self holding a knife covered in blood not knowing what had happened. And, when my trial comes along I plead insanity and become the very people that I hate. I can understand having a history of mental illness or trends leading up to an event but when a hardworking father of four comes home from his office, kills his family and then pleads insanity. I think that, that man is a liar and he had become so bored with his mundane life that he would do absolutely anything to avoid diving further into the prison he has created for himself, therefore killing his family. So, those that use insanity as a false excuse, tarnish the name of insane peoplel; but I get it.
You know what sucks? Being 22 and not knowing who you are or what you really want. I know, people say it's hard being a teenager because you don't know who you are but imagine being 22 years old, and still not knowing who you are and you have that much more life experience than that teenager. To think about it, a mid life crisis is probably one of the worst things that could ever happen to you. Picture yourself at 55. You have had the same career for 20 yrs, you have been married for 18 yrs and have 3 teenage children. One day you wake up and realize you don't want any of this life, but worst of all you don't know what you want. The older you get and the less you know about yourself is horrible. I think if you try to understand yourself daily, the rest of your life will come into place because no matter what happens in your life and what obstacles or opportunities come to you, you will know that you have made the right decision because you know yourself that well. I long for complete certainty with my decisions. I don't think I have been 100% sure of any decision in my life. I fucking hate hind sight, I hate the, "what could have been," it is a burden to dwell on past decisisons knowing that you can do nothing to alter the choices already made. But fantasy and wish fullness consumes us all to a point and we think if we had just chosen differently, our lives would be inherently better. It's funny how we always think of how much better our life could have been if we had taken different paths but what if those paths lead to something much horrible. We don't spend nearly enough time thinking about how good we have it and how much worse it could be; I know I don't.
There is a bar of soap sitting on the kitchen table and I don't know how it got there. Periodically I am going to the kitchen to make sure that it is there and that it's not some kind of mind soap I have created.

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