This past weekend I decided to say goodbye to my waitressing job.
Despite the anticipated feelings of liberation and joy I thought I’d experience (something akin to running naked through a field of daisies yelling, “I’m free, I’m free!”), I felt remarkably sad. In fact, I’m tempted to call them now and say, “Hey, about that whole ‘I think I ought to take a break’ thing? I was just kidding. Please put me back on the schedule.”
Who wouldn’t want me back, what with all my decisiveness and everything? I’m a gem.
It occurred to me through this whole ordeal that quitting a job is a lot like breaking up with someone.
Even though you know it’s a good decision, something you’ve thought about for a while, “fantasized” over, if you will, because you’re miserable and it’s no longer a good fit, etc. etc., YET when the time finally comes to bid this person farewell, you’re overcome with waves of guilt and nostalgia. Suddenly, instead of saying “Sayonara, M**** F****!” you’re weeping over the best thing you ever had and facing a future of lifelong regret.
Why, God, why???
In all honesty, I do feel bad. I woke up the next day in an anxiety attack over my Irish goodbye and sent a mass email to everyone explaining my departure and letting them know how important they were to me and how I’ll miss everyone. I told them it was better for me to say goodbye via email than have another “Jenny weeps in the kitchen” moment, and then I thanked them in clusters as though I were accepting an Academy Award.
Speaking of which, this appropriately took place on the day of the Oscars, a day in which I did a solid nothing except eat and exercise for four hours.
“Oooooh, Miss Exercise for Four Hours. Let’s brag about it.”
It’s not as exciting as it sounds. My friend and I were filming videos of ourselves teaching class in order to obtain our “official” certification, and after recruiting people to act as guinea pigs,* reserving a room in the gym, wearing the appropriate color for the program (bright orange, because that looks nice on everyone), getting mics and cameras all set up, practicing for months, etc., the battery died during last six minutes of my video and now I have to re-film.
*actual guinea pigs would have been more exciting
My friend, on the other hand, had no problems because she went first (blast!), so it’s only me who has to endure another Sunday of this.
I just want to spend my Sundays having an enjoyable brunch, is that so much to ask?
While we’re on the subject of food, let’s talk about Lent. Lent begins today, and I find it slightly unsettling that I have so many vices from which to choose that I don’t know the best one to give up.
The most obvious one is dessert (not just ice cream, folks, but DESSERT. It’s like wishing for death upon myself.) But other things I am considering are limiting my time on the internet and social media, eliminating going “out” and spending money (out for drinks, out for food, etc.), giving up Friends (THE HORROR)***, or actually giving up wheat/gluten as I intended to long ago.
***once again, I mean the show. Not, like, real people.
Then I read this this morning, which offered a new perspective on WHY people should give things up. As much as I’m hoping to lose the love handles, I don’t think that’s the reason we fast for Lent. I’ve always thought it was to shift focus on our dependence: that every time I feel the urge to eat ice cream, I should instead turn to God and reflect and pray. BUT today I saw a whole new dimension: those things that we’re giving up—how can we re-source them for good instead of focusing on ourselves?
For example, the money I usually spend on dessert or eating out—can I use donate that to charity? The food that I would normally eat but am giving up—can I give it to the hungry? The time I spend browsing Facebook and Twitter and reading blogs—could I use it instead to write letters to people who feel forgotten?
(Whoa. Things just got real.)
I shan’t preach to you, but I think it’s worth examining—whether you’re religious or not—how we spend our time and money. I know I struggle with this because “I never have time” for anything****, but I can catch up on every episode of The Bachelor. (That might be a bad example because I really hate that show, but I hate it in an “I’m watching it. No, wow, this is so awful, I’m turning it off. Okay, I’m watching it again” kind of way.)
Another thing I never have time for is writing, not that my blog is comparable to a great humanitarian cause, but I would like to post things more frequently. By the time I get around to posting my “ideas” (ideas range from “I’m certain the people in the next cubicle can hear me chewing” to “French films about teen prostitution are not ‘feel-good’ movies”), they’re outdated and not worth mentioning.
Actually, neither of those examples is outdated.
Maybe bungy jumping? My road trip through New Zealand? Those are things I never got around to writing about and it seems silly to do so now.
I’d rather write about….
What is this blog about?
[When in doubt, post a picture of food.]
Here’s my Fat Tuesday/ I Missed the Pancake Supper meal:
Bubble tea, seaweed salad, green tea ice cream, and a berry “moffle.” (The Asian beer is not mine.)
I rather enjoyed it.