Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

October 18

October 18

For the first time in a while, I feel like things are actually good. I mean, mentally. My job is still stupid and I am craving more than this city has to offer me – or perhaps more than I'm willing to take from it – but I feel a lot more stable these days.

One thing about these journal entries is that I don't tend to hang on to what I write the night before. It's only because yesterday's entry was open on the window behind this one that I saw my mentioning of the minor annoyances that set me off last night. I didn't even remember that until I read it just now. I suppose there are pros and cons to that mentality, but it's something I wanted to make a note of.

Many, if not all, of these journals are written in the moment. That's why I don't like writing them days, weeks, or sometimes months after the fact. When that happens, they become less genuine and more generic. While my emotions and opinions on a hundred different events and people might drastically change over the course of a single day, that's kind of the point. Well, maybe not the point. I don't know. These journal entries are just moments in my life. A snapshot, if you will.

I think Big Bird might suffer from short-term memory loss. I'm not sure, though. Considering the size of her birdbrain, it would certainly make sense. Given the fact that Big Bird essentially ordered me to work at the front desk for three hours this afternoon, I'm going to go ahead and diagnose her. Lucky Charms called in sick today, and I was the first one to be sent upstairs to cover for him. Clearly, Big Bird had forgotten our discussion from just over a month ago about how I will not work the front desk anymore. It was stupid. I was not impressed, but kept my mouth shut and did as I was told. And by that, I mean I did the bare minimum and spent the majority of my time on the internet. It wasn't much different from what I do in my office. After that, I ate my lunch and then basically had an hour left of my day. To be honest, it wasn't so bad.

Big Bird is now moving forward on a few of our projects. Well, sort of. While in the middle of a dedicated meeting to discuss said projects, Big Bird went on one of her tangents, essentially noting two things:

1. Now that I am in the office full-time, she gets less work done than she used to.

2. The full history of why she is so backed up with work.

Let's break this down.

When Big Bird made the remark about getting less work done, I called her out on it.

"Why would my presence in the office contribute to a lack of productivity?" I asked.

It's not like I'm talking non-stop. If anything, Big Bird is on her phone more than I am. I wanted to bring attention to the fact that Big Bird's claims had no merit. I am not a distraction. Big Bird is the problem. Not me. The loudest I'll get in our office is when I'm clicking through Twitter porn. Unsurprisingly, Big Bird couldn't give me a reason as to why she gets distracted.

In true Big Bird fashion, she then went into her second tangent of the meeting. This is when Big Bird told me all about the employees that came before me, going into extreme detail about how she gets so far behind every time someone quits. Whenever that happens – and it has happened many, many times – all the of their work gets thrown on her. This was incredibly awkward, for obvious reasons.

I sat at my desk, nodding along and all the while knowing that I am about to drop a bomb on Big Bird when I hand in my notice during the second week of December. Until then, I just have to play along like The Clubhouse is my "career." I have a plan, though. If I come to Big Bird and say that I got another job with better pay and benefits, can she really blame me for leaving? Why would anyone stick around at an hourly position when there's something greater out there? Hypothetically, of course. I'm not going to think about it anymore. I don't want to feel guilty. Let's just roll along and get that cash.

During the last ten minutes of my day when I was actually trying do some work, Big Bird was an absolute maniac. The woman was running in and out of the office, talking loudly on her phone at her desk and in the hallway, eating an orange and squirting juice all over my paperwork, and asking me questions while I was clearly busy. Big Bird was insane. All of my guilt from earlier in the day had disappeared. At one point, while Big Bird was in the hallway, I shut the door on her. Where's Dad's BB gun when you need it?

In an attempt to continue my productive streak tonight, I delayed my gym session in lieu of Halloween costume shopping. After work, I jumped on the subway and headed to Value Village. Low and behold, I found the absolute, 100% perfect pair of Mariah Carey "Heartbreaker" Levis jeans for my costume. I was shocked. I also don't know what came over me. While I was in the fitting room, I shoved the jeans into my backpack and walked out of the store.

I feel bad. The risk of a criminal record is not worth a $13 pair of jeans. I feel more frugal than ever these days, though. In these types of moments, I sometimes panic about my bank account and make dumb decisions. I rationalize that stealing is a better alternative than racking up my credit card bill. Not the best logic, but that's what it is.

It should come as no surprise that, over the next two weeks, I am on a strict diet. The hunger was getting to me tonight, though. I couldn't take it anymore. After Value Village, I wouldn't get back on the subway until I found a Tim Hortons. When I did, I almost cried. It tasted so good. I'm not even kidding. I felt like telling everyone within a four-block radius about my cinnamon raisin bagel. Damn.

Finally, it was time for the gym. I did my routine in full, relaxed in the sauna, and then went home. Despite the "190" number still showing up on the scale each morning, I'm feeling better about myself and body these days. I don't understand it, though. It's not like a 5 to 10 pound difference. We're talking about 20 pounds more than I weighed in the spring. It's absurd.

Back at the Witch Cave, I tried on my new "Heartbreaker" jeans with some heels. I fell in love with them all over again. After that, I rubbed one out and crawled into bed to write this.

Not that I'm complaining, but it's sort of freaking me out that I feel happy. Like, I'm feeling really content right now. I have no idea why. Perhaps it's because I don't feel like I'm living an episode of My 600-lb Life anymore. I don't know. This is awesome.

Goodnight xo