As an intern at an unpaid internship, college student, and waitress at an upcoming restaurant, I find myself heckled by the thought of money. I guess my feelings about the subject could be compared to a young child treading in a pool of water trying their best not to drown, mixed with the happy go-lucky spending habits of Isla Fisher from Confessions of a Shopaholic.
I have a headache from just the thought of how much money I owe or will owe at the end of my college career, and then factoring in graduate school. As I sit here, typing this at my unpaid internship my heart sinks even more with the knowledge that I am not making a single cent from 8:30-4:30 Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. The other days I hustle around the wood floors of a restaurant whose birth is hardly a month old so the process of figuring everything out continues. This figuring includes generating enough customers to stay afloat and not putting on too many waitresses at one time. With all this trial and error in the air, I have found my frustrations high and my pockets light.
Making things worse is my age. Being a young 21-year-old woman in a new place, I have the constant need or maybe more like the constant want to make new friends and be involved. This factor has driven my urge to indulge in drinks, dinners, and celebrations to be persistent. This persistency works against my already empty wallet but honestly; these moments out are some of the only things keeping me sane. I am bored at my internship, fed up at my job, and lonely in the confines of my own thoughts.
I was not expecting this blog post to be such a Debbie Downer, and for that I am sorry, but I think my recent indulges in all things sweet are now starting to make more sense. I guess I have been trying to lie to myself in pretending the ocean fixes all things, that natural beauties can surge any pain or sorrow, but when we get down to it the pure act of lying to ourselves is the very creator of headaches, tears, and bad decisions.