Sorry. -Rachel

Desk Job vs. Manuel Labor

May 22, 2009
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In the last two weeks I have the pleasure of experiencing a little bit of both. Last week it was renovating my room, which although I was not getting paid, I was waking up and painting/cleaning/dry walling/taking too many trips to Lowes. My hands and legs bore scratches and bruises, cuts and bumps, and there was Kilz in my hair.  I didn’t shower every morning, I was constantly sore, and the room was smoldering hot. It was exhausting but at the end of the day a cold beer never tasted so good.
I had to stop renovating for my real job, the one I get paid for, my internship in an office for a website. I sit at a computer all day, 9 to 5 that is, and there is little stress.  My coworkers are smart, kind, and funny, but naturally, they are enthralled in their own work, and since I am the intern, I don’t get much attention beyond ‘Hi. How are you’. It’s ok though, because I absolutely hate small talk. I try and fail every time to be a normal person with an interesting life. To be appropriately dressed I need to shower everyday and put on a little bit of makeup to hide my enormous pores and the lovely inherited bags under my eyes. Oh, I also have to put on business clothes, which – because I’ve gained so much weight and because I am completely broke – is close to torture. I’m sorry to admit that I’ve already pulled the wear and return trick at Target.
Even though the internship contributes to potential success in career endeavors it is a great deal less rewarding then the manual labor. Oddly there is less interaction with other people, even though I’m in close quarters with more people at my desk job. When I was working on the room I was constantly talking to different people for advice, or help, and often receiving praise for my hard work. In the office, I am much more isolated, until lunch hour and writing this blog is the most mentally stimulating thing I’ve done since I’ve been back this week.
I am a firm believer in balance but if I had to choose, with all money considerations aside, I’d say manual labor, such as renovating, would be the winning choice occupation.


May 17, 2009
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I got accepted into the City Year Program for the Americorps. The first time my mom has heard anything about it was yesterday. Her first reaction was, “It seems you’ve thought this through. It’s scary you going so far away but it’s a big world and it’s just California.” This was not what I was expecting from her but it was nice to see that she understood. When I came home later she started on with the reaction I thought she would initially have.”You need to grow up more, learn to support yourself. Blah Blah Blah You need to wait a year”

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May 10, 2009
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Third day working on the room. Things that should be saved are things that shouldn’t or if any doubt shouldn’t is scrapped. After many filled trashbags all that’s left is a mattress, bookshelf and the dust left behind.

Tired and satisfied.

The room seems to be moving along, whether my mom wants accept it or not. I think she’s upset I’m doing something about my not wanting to live in a shit hole any longer.

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“Just cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there”

May 8, 2009
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I’m sitting in my uprooted room trying to make a place for myself at home again. Listening to a spring thunderstorm. It’s good to be home and with old friends, I’ve missed so much. Yesterday, as we were cleaning my room, my two friends, Maggie and Courtnie,  were literally throwing away everything I own. Courtnie joked, “We are like your personal Clean House.” Which they didn’t know that I watched all the time while I was in Muncie, I really had nothing better to do.

I’m in the process of taking my high school room, and transforming it into something an adult can live in (the adult being me believe it or not). Which means getting rid of my Simpsons and band posters, old tacky lamps, a fileing cabinet with old purses in it, books I’ll never leave and other strange kick-knacks I’ve been hording. All of my previous memories were put in one cardboard box.

I used to feel like this room was haunted when visiting it during the school year, like there was something watching me in the corner, or something waiting for me at the top of the stairs. But the room was a stranger to me, just like a person, stangers are hard to approch and you don’t know what to expect from them, you just hope they are polite. I’m spending time in it now though, and I have no creepy feelings, there is nothing lurking in the corner and only my mom at the foot of the stairs.

I’ve already visited some of my favorite places in St. Louis, one of the being Left Bank Books in the Central West End. I dragged Maggie with me, she was put out until she saw there was a cat in the store. “Oh! Kitty!” Then she can sit and pet it while I browse the used books.

I had lunch with my mom and brother at Cooper Ella in the neighborhood. Oh, and I bought an I Ching Workbook from my favorite new age store, Mystic Valley. Then I drank vodka tonics with the girls. Over all, awesome day.

All Nighters

May 5, 2009
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event – the eve of my first final

mood – PAthetic

thoughts – I just threw a hissy fit. I was literally doing the stomping feet-shaking fits-making high pitched noises bit. I sure my roommate appreciated it, it’s ok I only have 3 days left with her.

I also had my last appointment with my counselor here, which was sad and awkward, because I have had no relationship to her outside of her office, but she is still someone I connected with, so it was hard to show my appreciation. I suppose I will write her a thank you card.  Doris (my counselor) is the reason my posts are in the event, mood, thoughts, coping, results format. She called it a mood chart, which does actually help me.

It’s so strange how much we had in common, which I didn’t realize until our last meeting. After just the first time I met with her I was in a better mood and everything was much less tragic, so we really didn’t have to talk about how I was feeling so much, and could just conversate. I found out that she was a lot like me when she was an undergrad- she had a passion for learning. Like me money wasn’t the main focus of her future ambitions. She also was interested in metaphysics and very liberal.  We both have bipolar relatives. Crazy right?.. er not crazy.. (you know what I mean) On top of everything she introduced me to I Ching, an ancient sort of Chinese fortune telling, with coins. So far it predicted I got into City Year, we’ll see on the 15th.

The reason I threw a tantrum moments before I started this post, is because I have a finals, like everyone else in college, but I (unlike everyone else in college) do not care, what-so-ever, how well I do but I still feel I should do some kind of studying… right? I’m pissed off I don’t do better academically, I have no excuse, it shouldn’t be this complicated, it’s not like I’m not capable of doing it, it’s just…  I hate it with every fiber of my being. I HATE cramming. I enjoy learning. I’m going to fail this history test, but history is where I do well. So why not just do it? Because it makes me sick to my stomach, I don’t know why. Juuust shoot me.

coping – all nighter

result – crash and buuuurrrrnnn

P.S. I watched 13 episodes of Scrubs today. Really, I am a bum.

About author

Born and raised in St. Louis, I hate eating at chain restaurants and enjoy drinking beer. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, if you have any suggestions please let me know. Thanks.