Happy Hour?

Here I am writing my blog out of all places: the bar next to my work. It is in a way my office as I am here for hockey games, 5 a 7 and yes, even the occasional rendez vous with someone that fancies me (more recent, the jerkface from the open relationship). Yes, I’m still on this as he’s in my doghouse now, hiding like a coward as if he does show his face in my scene then it would be true: that he is a total jerkface, a liar and the most insecure person on earth. Wanting the attention as if he were a child tugging at his mother’s skirt, wanting her to validate his achievement (or simply his presence).
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.