Here I am, no weekend for about three weeks. I love my cancer lady still, I am fine with giving her the extra time. My regular job, however, I’ve had just about enough. Every impulse in my body wants me to call work and just take a “therapy day”; one where I just veg. But I’m not doing that. You see, I learned from direct experience that if a person calls in, the people who show up are the ones punished.
For example: Friday a gal decided to flaked out and skipped her shift. I was forced to stay (I or any other CNA must be relieved before we can go, otherwise it’s considered abandoning one’s patients). For another example: Saturday someone called in, Me and another gal got to work very short handed; painful day. Those two examples fueled my contempt for those that call in. I will not be like them. The company, too, deserves some harsh words, for that matter, but that’s another rant for another time. Let’s sum this paragraph up by declaring I won’t call in for the reasons stated.
I still miss art. I do notice the light I in me has dimmed. A smoldering ember that was a lazy flame. I posit I’m not built to burn bright, I’m built to burn long. Blah, enough self reflection, I can save all that for when I’m doing art. That kind of thinking and feeling bleeds into the work. Makes for better stuff. Here, it’s novel but wears thin fast.
I complain to vent the excess stress. I am holding up fine. Spirits are, well, they’re not “high” per say; more in a holding pattern. Overall things are good. I have people I love who love me. My bank account just might have money in it at the end of the month. The book will be late, I think that’s clear now. Still, it’s so very close to finish. School will help, too. Sure it’ll break my bank, but I excel in a learning environment. I have a future to work towards.
Fair price to pay.