Archives for posts with tag: work

Thursday.

I know, guys, I know. I can literally feel your excitement through the computer screen.

Or maybe that’s just me freaking out over the fact that the work week is coming to a close and then it’s the weekend which is literally one day because all we truly have is Saturday and Sundays are in preparation for the worst day ever and ugh, great, I just convinced myself that today is basically the end of the weekend and it’s probably Monday.

Mind blown.

Regardless, I’m struggling on this Thursday morning due to me staying out late last night. Seriously, when will we come to terms with the fact that staying out past 12AM on a workday is probably never a good idea? We probably never will because, well, alcohol, but also because of the fact that wanting to enjoy ourselves for a few hours is human nature and sometimes, needed.

I used to work at Starbucks throughout my high school career. And yes, the job is exactly as you probably pictured it; taking absolutely ridiculous orders from you psychotic and desperate coffee/tea/frappufuckingccinno addicts and turning them into gold. Seriously, baristas are wizards and you guys aren’t even appreciative of it. I digress, though. When I worked there, however, I was co-workers with some awesome kids. But life got in the way, and we got tired of wreaking like coffee beans, so we quit and moved on to the next stage of our lives: real-life.

Years passed, and although we were friends over social media, we didn’t keep in contact much. But a few days ago, one of the guys I worked with texted me inviting me to see his band play at a small venue 30 minutes from my house. I knew he was in a band, knew he played some shows, but I never made an effort to go see him and his band members rock out. (Is that what hipsters say?) However, because of this life-is-too-short motto I’ve adopted recently, I figured I’d show some face and see my old friends.

And am I glad I did. Now, before I go into my life lesson piece, can I just give credit where credit is due? To all bands across this world with such a small following, used equipment, and under 300 likes on Facebook, props. Like, PROPS. How do you even continue to do what you do when there is the smallest possibility that you will ever make it big? You know when parents tell their kids at a young age that they are completely capable of being Barack Obama or Neil Armstrong or Britney Spears (pre-shaved head), well yeah, you’re all lying and you know you are and bands are just like, “I don’t care, dude, I love this. I’m going to become the Stones, I will NOT settle for The All-American Rejects.”

As I watched them play up on that stage with such enthusiasm and such confidence and joy, I couldn’t help but get a little jealous. At first, my jealousy was me obsessing over the fact that I quit singing lessons as a kid like three classes in. (I also forgot about the fact that my vocals sound like what I imagine the grumpy cat sounds like) However, it then turned into a jealousy over passion. I grew envious over the fact that these kids, at a young age, had something they believed in, something that made them so happy, that even if they continuously failed, that failure would only inspire more strength and probably, happiness, because their journey towards whatever they were reaching for, continues.

What’s comical is that before I had gone to their concert or small gathering of moms and drunk 21 year olds trying to crowd surf in a room that probably had a fire capacity warning of like 10, I was applying to this awesome internship opportunity that required me to go beyond what my resume or cover letter stated, and asked me to clearly state my passion for their company, my passion for a 20% project (Similar to Google’s 20% project) and my interests. I’m surprised I hadn’t just given up right then and there. Passion? Interests? What is this blasphemy? It took me a day to fill out the application as I went back and forth debating what to say and trying to find out things I’m interested in in a span of 24 hours. I didn’t exactly lie about my interests, but it seemed so forced to say what I wanted to do with my life. I had no idea. I was wrestling around with the idea of writing copy for brands, or something in the editorial field, or trying to inspire change, etc. (How in the hell do you inspire change without being Ghandi? I don’t want to be set on fire) I was a lost puppy. And it was disappointing to see how much I struggled with this.

I spoke about this in a blog post earlier, but what if I never find out? What if nothing strikes me as fascinating? Essentially, what if I never join a band? (I knew I should have never quit percussion in middle school) But here’s the thing. I think I quit too easily or I’ve tried enough hobbies. I experimented with the essentials as a child. My mother forced me to dabble in singing, acting, soccer, ballet, gymnastics, tap, jazz, flute, and percussion. I scored on my own team in soccer once and used to fake blow into the flute and pretend my fingers knew where they were moving. Needless to say, I was never very interested in much as a kid. Some odd years later, here I am, confused as to whether or not I should have tried harder in ballet and actually attempted to sing. (Nope, I’m still tone deaf) My point is, I have to keep trying. When something doesn’t make me spark, I’ll move on. But I shouldn’t get discouraged.

My childhood failures in attempting to pick up a steady hobby have kind of set me back. I’m afraid I just won’t like anything, but I don’t even try to hate it! (The epitome of first world problems) Therefore, I should try. Just like I’m going to try to cook food. I’m investing in a fun, cooking class as opposed to spending it on a hangover that I don’t need or a pair of shoes that I don’t…wait, maybe I do need them. Regardless, I’m going to try new things. That’s the only way to know; to know if I like something, to know if I enjoy something, to know if I love something, and to know if I can be part of the band.

(By the way, I forgot to send this out. It’s currently Monday morning and I’m struggling pretty hard. But, good news, I have two internship options for the fall semester. Slowly but surely working my way up to back-up vocalist. Next, Liza Minnelli impersonator.)

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It’s Tuesday.  I feel like Tuesdays are the new Mondays.  We’ve learned how to embrace Monday.  It’s dreaded, the office secretly hates each other that day, but we’ve come to terms with delaying the inevitable so we cope.  However, Tuesdays are just awful.  Why do you exist?  Hump Day is exciting, Thursday is the best tease and then, Friday, well Friday is Friday.  Tuesday’s just like, “I feel neglected in your weekly schedule so I’m just going to straight ruin your week.”  I just realized I wrote a paragraph on how bad work week Tuesdays are.  Clearly, this youngin’ has not quite yet become accustomed to the 9-5.

It’s funny, though, because you’d think that I’d be so excited to get a proposal for a full-time job as a student/intern entering my senior year of college.  However, I just feel “ehh” at this point. Ehh.  You know?  It’s that pretty indifferent feeling.  And it’s not like I am not thankful.  Oh, I’m extremely grateful and fortunate because I understand life after graduation is no walk in the park.  But, I just feel like, (drumroll) I’m not doing something I’m passionate about.

How many times have you heard that from your friends, family, significant other?  “I’m not doing what I want.”  I’ve heard that too many times, from way too many different people, and what I’ve gathered is that the majority of us are pretty unhappy with where we are in life, in terms of careers, relationships, personal growth, etc.  I hear their stories, their complaints, the draw in their voices, and I get scared. What if that’s me?  What if I turn into that?  Okay, so let’s solve the problem.  Start doing what you love, Amanda.  Oh, here’s a little zinger.  I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I WANT TO DO IN THIS CRAZY LIFE.

Therefore, I go to work.  I breathe.  I dabble in a few extracurricular activities that excite me (Amanda, volunteering once a year doesn’t count), and I hope that somewhere along the way, my passion will just appear right in front of me and I’ll notice and hang on to it till the day I die.  Life doesn’t span out like that, does it?  I’m being serious, though, does it?  Have any of you, possibly older than me, younger, around my age, have you found your calling in life?  And if you are the the few privileged who have, how did it happen?  I don’t even know you, and I’m jealous.

I remember wanting to be a writer for so long when I was much younger.  I didn’t know what to write, what type of industry just writing “how I felt” fell into, or how I’d get started, I just knew that writing was something I enjoyed doing.  I’d write poems, short stories, started an amateur blog on Tumblr voicing my embarrassing emotions about an ex boyfriend, and I was pretty convinced I loved it.  I grew discouraged, though, when I saw how difficult it was to be successful in that type of industry.  I figured I’d have better luck in marketing.  And that’s where I am.  And hear me out; marketing is so interesting. But the odd fact that dogs primarily see in black and white is interesting, too.  It doesn’t mean I want to study why dogs are colorblind.

You get me?  What if I never find my passion?  My goal, at this very moment, is to financially benefit from the growing success of this start-up.  They are an incredible company about to hit that break-even point, and I want to be there.  And I probably will be, as long as I don’t blow up the coffee machine.  And once they do, I want to essentially “cash-out” and do something that is of more interest to me.  Is that horrible?  I kind of cringed when I typed, “cash-out.”  But I can’t see myself here forever.  I’ll sacrifice for a few years, until I’m stable enough to move on and begin doing something that inspires me.  That’s my plan.  Will it work?  I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.  We’ll hold our breath for a minimum of 5 years, and if we exceed those 5 years, then we’re dead.  (That was punny)

Alright, enough sap for the day.  Plus, my boss is probably wondering why I’m typing so frantically and no actual work is being generated.  But then again, I also have like 5 useless internet tabs open right now that if someone were to come by my spot unexpectedly,  I’d argue that a ghost took over my computer.  And then nervously click out of Spotify. (Body Party by Ciara is probably not the most appropriate work theme song)

I’ll see you guys next time!  And remember that it’s almost 5PM and I’m right there with you silently celebrating in our wishful hearts.