Working man


I don't feel like listening in class, so at Lyndel's request, I'm posting.

Here's an average day for me:

I get up at 7:30 so I can go to work at the bank at 8:15. I work harder than anyone else there (because no other teller at my bank has more than a month of experience, so I have to pick up all the slack). I'm supposed to leave at 1, but because I have to help everybody else I'm lucky to leave the bank by 1:30. I speed over to BYU to get to my class at 2. I sit in my class from 2 to 4. Some days I even stay awake. Then I go downstairs to the newsroom, where I work until the newspaper is done (usually not until after 8pm). Then I go home, exhausted, and do it all again the next day. And if I really push myself, I MIGHT get to eat at some point during all that. Maybe.

So why am I killing myself this summer? Because I don't have a scholarship any more and I need the money. I moved home, sacrificing what little social life I have, to save money. I'm working 50-hour weeks to save money. I haven't bought anything, other than food, for myself in months. (No, I take that back -- I bought myself a new video iPod, since my old iPod died, and a Nintendo DS, because I was getting a really good price on it and I thought I deserved something for myself. Then the universe decided to get its revenge by having my car towed, which cost $200. I've learned my lesson.)

Anyway, I didn't mean to make this post a pity party. I'm just getting tired of working so much. I know it will be worth it by the end of the summer, when I have enough money for fall and winter semesters and won't have to work at all during the semester (although I still will because I enjoy the newspaper). And honestly, working isn't bad. It's not like it's strenuous work. I get to play around on the Internet while I work. I like my coworkers, for the most part. I shouldn't complain, I suppose. Maybe I'm just hungry. Being hungry makes me irritable. Meh.

(An hour later...)

Yup, fell asleep in class. And I still have an hour to go. Ugh.

On to other things. I visited my old ward last night, just to see how things were going, to say hello to some old friends, and to see if I could make some new (female) friends. The old ward was having one of their regular Sunday "dessert nights, " which is where they share various baked goods, write little "nice notes" to one another (to be dropped off later that night), and generally flirt and socialize. Well, by the end of my time in that ward, I was thoroughly sick of going to such activities, because I would get roundly ignored, receive no "nice notes," and watch as my two taller, wealthier, more attractive roommates got all the attention.

So then I moved home, and entered a different student ward which covered my residential area. But even though there are a few other home-livers in my ward, most of my ward is made up of a nearby apartment complex. And because I do not live in said complex, I get ignored in this ward as well. (I suspect it isn't intentional -- I just don't live where everyone else lives. Out of sight, out of mind.) So I decided to give my old ward's dessert night another try.

Now, five months later, I was a novelty, because the few people I still knew hadn't seen me for months, and the people I didn't know wondered who I was. It was probably one of the best times I had ever had at one of those activities. Strange that it took me leaving the ward to actually enjoy being there.

Anyway, I did in fact manage to acquaint myself with a handful of interested young women, and hopefully something might emerge there. Better than my current ward, at least.

I've been filling my spare time with several other things:

1) Serving as amateur counselor and dating adviser for my little brother, who is in the midst of a quasi-relationship with a very nice and attractive but indecisive young lady. I feel badly for him, because he has been there for her through a lot of different things and basically done just about anything she could ask of him. But she continues to be fickle and non-committal, and it's very hard on him. Meanwhile, she insists there's nothing wrong at all. I personally just think she's afraid, and doesn't communicate non-verbally very well. But it's a daily soap opera, and my brother comes to me for advice about it. (Probably not very wise, given my recent track record in relationships.) Anyway, there have been many late-night conversations on this subject. I don't regret these, but I do think that my brother could do just as well without my input. I suppose he just needs a sounding board, more than anything.

2) Writing for a Utah Jazz blog (aptly located at http://utahjazzblog.net). I've been following this site for a while, and while I liked what the authors were saying, I noticed that they weren't posting very often. I wrote an e-mail to the site administrator and offered my services. I was surprised when he promptly gave me full admin privileges and allowed me to pretty much write whatever I wanted about the Jazz. This is basically fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine -- having an outlet where I could voice my opinion and sports knowledge to anyone who felt like reading it. I've already noticed improvement in my sportswriting, too. And it's a different tone than the newspaper writing that I do -- more free, more casual. It's been time-consuming, but a lot of fun. I wish the Jazz had beaten the Spurs, but they got further than I dreamed this year, and there's every reason to hope for the future.

3) Exercising whenever I get the chance to. This is difficult, because when I get home from my jobs and classes, I'm usually exhausted and don't have much desire to do anything but eat and go to bed. But this hasn't been good on my body. Since coming home from my mission, I've gained quite a bit of weight -- I'm too proud to say exactly how much. Last fall, I ran two miles every night and lost thirty pounds. Now some of that is creeping back on, and I want to keep it off but I fear I don't have the time or the energy.

Fortunately, when I do get a chance to relax a bit, I'm able to do so. I hate hearing people say, "I work hard, but I play hard, too." I don't get it. Play is supposed to be EASY! Fun! Enjoyable! Why would people do it if it was hard? I recall a friend of mine who simply couldn't sit still -- even when she went to lay out by the pool or something, she had to bring a book or her scriptures or something. I dared her to do absolutely nothing but sit and rest (but not go to sleep) for half an hour every day for a week. She couldn't do it even once. So I'm glad to have the ability to switch off when I need to. If I didn't, I probably would already have burned myself out.

I survived the second half of my class. Now time for job #2. They call me the working man; I guess that's what I am.