Trying to Regain Normalcy...

A lull, a rut, a funk, a depression. Whatever the hell it's called, I think I may be stuck in one. I woke up today and tried to pull myself together. And it worked a little bit. But not as much as I wanted.

I hope this is just some bullshit phase that I'm going through. Some horrible fucked up biochemistry thing to do with an imbalance in my brain's chemicals and shit. I hope that it's not actual things in my life that are just piling up and shitting all over my soul. In fact, I'm like...90% sure it's just a phase, because two weeks ago I wasn't feeling this and nothing has really changed since then.

Other than the fact that Cheesecake orientation for new servers started up last week and I am STILL not in the server training courses. Maybe it's all steming from the fact that I am so fucking done with that restaurant. I don't think I give a shit anymore whether I become a server or not. It's too much work. And honestly, my last few months in Maryland should be easy-going and lazy, not scrambling around, stressing about how to be a server right and whether I'm making enough money. So you know what? I don't care anymore. I mean, I still kind of do, of course. But I'm done giving a shit what these fucking dumb ass managers think of me anymore. I'm done with nice happy me-on-my-best-day Jayme. At least at work anyway. I GAIN NO FULFILLMENT FROM MY JOB.

Maybe that's moreso what the problem is. I feel like the most under appreciated piece of shit at the joint. Curbside gets shit on by everybody. We are the lowest rung on the totem pole. While not entirely true (bussers), it certainly does feel like that every day I go in. It's a real Rodney Fucking Dangerfield in there. No respect. No respect at all.

And possibly the worst part: because I have no job satisfaction, I don't feel comfortable enough there to be myself. So I'm spending most of my week not being myself at a job I don't want to be at. That can't be good for one's esteem. I need to be doing what I like to do. Like writing comedy. Or acting. Or anything in between.

Well I'm going to hit the sack soon, I've got to be up somewhat early tomorrow for this new routine I've started. I'm trying to exercise/meditate every morning as some sort of half-hearted attempt to 1. meditate more 2. exercise more 3. get me out of this shitty ass mood I'm in.

And I'm sorry these last few posts have been so negative. Believe me, you have no idea how hard it is for me to write these. If I so much as think of being a depressing black-hole of happiness around people, I start to feel like I've done something wrong. I overthink. I'm a people pleasing, social obligation haver.

I don't know how to handle non-happy, non-energized, non-jokey Jayme. He's a complete stranger living in my body and I can't seem to find the eviction notice.
Dude, get out. You haven't paid your Rent. I am Benny. Fuck Off, NY artsy-fartsy bohemian AIDs-riddled hippies (who in this metaphor will be representative of evil Jayme and the bad feelings he brings with him). You have 525,600 milliseconds before I go medieval on your lame asses. I got too much shit to do and too much fun to have to be dealing with your shit.

Toodles!