Posted August 26th, 2003 by Michelle

It’s strange to me that one day can be good and awful. It started well and then got progressively icky. This morning was my last French class of the summer, not to begin again until the 22nd of September, and only then if I can find the money and if I think I’ll actually be going to Africa. My good friend Val is in class with me, and she is the one who has offered me this new job. I accepted. After class, we grabbed sushi and pannini and walked to Central Park. We talked about training for a marathon (she’ll run with me, I’ll cycle with her) and also tried to figure out my schedule at the new bar (most likely Tuesday night, Thursday day and Friday night). I missed my appointment with the personal trainer, but really, it never could have happened in the first place.

After this lovely lunch, I headed down to work, and was an unfortunate hour early. I bought a book and ducked into a coffee shop and called my mother, begging her to convince me to actually show up at my job. She was persuasive, and way too soon I walked through the door. Burn-out is something you can taste, something you can smell when you are in a situation that is not good for you. A place can become dark and ugly when it is in fact sunny and clean simply because it is dead to you. That is what my job is- dead. I met a lot of really nice people, made a lot of people happy, but I made myself miserable.

I wish, I wish I could go tomorrow and give my two weeks, but my new job doesn’t start until some time in September and I’m poor enough as it is. I know, I know, I’ve got a roof over my head and soy milk in the fridge and I don’t have to clean toilets or be on the line at Taco Bell. I know, I know. I’m trying my best to change my life, to do the best I can, but it’s slow, and it’s hard. And while I remember my rant from yesterday about how lucky I am to have such a great family, at the end of the day, I come home and I deal with this alone.

After September 1st, I only have two more months in this apartment, which means only two more months bleeding my bank account to pay my astronomical ridiculous rent. By October 1st, I hope to be settled in my new job. At the same time, I will know everything about my Peace Corps application, and it will be something I can either conceive, or something totally impossible for my frame of mind. By December 1st, well. I certainly hope to have even more achieved, but even as I continue to hope, I lose faith.

I just finished reading “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey. It is a autobiography about his addictions and path to sobriety. It is amazing. Through it, he reads the Tao, and repeats the serenity prayer in every AA meeting:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? I mean, first you have to define “God” but after that, it’s very clear. The thing I’m lacking right now is the wisdom.