diava's Journal

First Entry
I suppose this is my 4th or 5th attempt to keep some form of an online journal. I always get bored with them and after 10-20 entries stop writing at all.

It's not that the concept of a journal bothers me; to the contrary I think keeping a journal is an excellant idea. Journals record creative ideas for later use, help a person organize information in his/her head, and are just fun for looking back on years later.

Journals are also important to me specifically because I have no memory what so ever. I have a bad habit of "zoning out" to speed time up (to when, I sometimes wonder myself.) The end result of this is that last week blurs into the week before that and Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday lose meaning to me when in reference to the past. I remember individual moments quite well, but ask me how long ago it happened and I will draw a blank.

But I digress...

And the even better part of an online journal is that everyone can see your writing and hence your thoughts. It's almost like allowing a complete stranger to peer into your soul. It's daring, invigorating, and embarassing all rolled into one.

Of course my biggest fear is embarassment, because as a creative person I am very picky about my writing, my drawing, and everything I do. I am very afraid that the things I feel, believe, and say may be considered trite or dull. I wish nothing more than to be "unordinary." Even eccentric is a step above ordinary... And that is not to say that the opinions of other people weigh heavy on my mind, but that upon a second reading, even my best writing looks silly and dramatic. The thoughts and emotions I hold in my head just don't seem as important when printed on plain paper. Perhaps this is because I am too poor a writer to transfer the whole of my mental processes onto paper. I don't type nearly as fast as I think, and I can hit 80-90 words per minute when I try. And then again, maybe my "mental processes" just aren't as interesting as I always imagined them to be.

I guess I'm just self-conscious... All I can do is shrug to that.

Anyway, to intoduce myself to whatever kind of community may be reading this, my name is Adrienne and I'm 19 years old. I've just finished my first year in the so called "real world" with a job and an apartment and bills to pay. I found it to be tiresome, not very hard, but quite frustrating. When you only make $7 an hour, most things that Americans take for granted are "out of budget bounds" and having to pay for my own college doesn't help. I live with my boyfriend, Aaron, in a crappy, but roomy, apartment in a building that used to be condemed and is owned by the only slum lord in my town.

Right now I'm at work. I really don't mind being here; I'd rather be payed to mess around online on the company's T1 line rather than sit at home and curse my 56k.The downside to work is that ever 2-5 minute the phone rings and I have to deal with a customer. I work at a Toy Catalog Company in the call center. So I place orders, answer questions, calm angry customers, deal with customer service problems, and when we're slow... I clean to call center or the fridge or anything else they can find for me to do.

I'm really not supposed to use the internet, or read, or draw, or do anything besides sit here. I'm supposed to ask my supervisor for something to do if I have down time. Trust me, I've bugged the managers until they felt the urge to hurt me; there just isn't enough work to go around here. So I sit here and twidle my thumbs until I have the chance to steal online and find something to do.

But it's so hard to get anything productive done when the phone rings every few moments. My thoughts get all jumbled together every time it happens and it takes a good 30-40 seconds to get back on track in order to write another two sentences and then- riiiing!

Ah, my lunch break. I'll leave off this train of thought for another day. It seems the writing mood has left me, as it always does just when I want it to stay.

Current Mood: artistic
Current Music: The click of keystrokes (I'm at work...)

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