Nothing too exciting has been happening with me lately. Just more of the same--work, reading books, tv, working on the genealogy stuff. Work is boring, frustrating, and stressful all at the same time. Sometimes just thinking about it makes me feel like there's a black cancerous maw just gnawing away at the organs in my chest cavity. I never thought about how such mundane crap would make me feel so sort of useless. At least as a server, I had some instant gratification, as usually (although NOT always) people were nice and thankful to you on the spot.
So, I already know that I want to leave after I have been here for a year. That's only about 5 1/2 months away now. I'm going to be getting some money from a life insurance policy my grandfather decided to cash out. It's not much, but it will be enough to put some into a CD or something that earns a good amount of interest, and then spend the rest on both my planned trip to England and Scotland and my planned time off. Hopefully, it will not be a lot of time off. I'm not sure what kind of job I will look for, but definitely something a little better-paying. I keep thinking about going back and getting a management position at a corporate restaurant, just because there is better money and more stability, more oversight. But at the same time, I know how crappy the hours are and how crappy it can be to have like, hundreds of corporate bosses breathing down your neck all the time. That is one thing I like about working here. I only have 2 or 3 people to whom I have to answer.
Anyway, I am sure I will figure something out. I always do.
I started re-reading Jane Austen's Emma the other day. I just love that book. It's definitely my favorite Austen, because it has the least amount of sturm und drang. It's just about a gossipy little village and a deluded, misguided girl attempting to be helpful. None of the women get scandalously seduced by a charming but soulless rake who refuses to marry her. No one dies penniless in a pauper's hospital. Everyone gets the marriage they wanted, and everyone takes care of one another. It's a lovely fantasy. The character of Emma Woodhouse is supposedly the least likeable of all of Austen's heroines, and I can definitely understand that, because she is quite smug and is certainly a snob. Her motives at the beginning of the story are self-gratifying, an attempt to prove to everyone around her how clever and talented she is, even though most people already feel this about her. But her better qualities do come through--her devotion to her father, her love for her friends, her offense at seeing Harriet snubbed by the Eltons, and her true remorse at insulting Miss Bates. And in the end she is honest with herself, and her Mr. Knightley, and everyone (except maybe Mr. Elton) lives happily ever after.
On the genealogy front, I am still stuck way back in like, 11th century England and France. It's getting a bit frustrating, too, because at a certian point I forget which family I am even tracing. I try to follow the male line until I can't get any farther, and then I have to go back and try to trace each of the mothers' lines, but that just leads to following a new male line back so far. It's seriously like taking twelve steps back to take one step forward, if that makes any sort of sense. I have a whole spiral notebook full of reminders of websites and information on names so I can try to keep track and not forget people I have already added (because there are certainly cross-overs).
Anyway, that is a fraction of the crap running around in my head this week. Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day, and I went and hung out with some friends in Woodside. We went to eat at Donovan's Pub, which is right around the corner (didn't even have to cross a street), and there was a full pipes and drums band entertaining us. It was very cool. One guy even did some Irish step-dancing, right in front of our table! It was the first time I've ever really felt like I was celebrating the Irish in America as opposed to just an excuse to go out drinking. I hope at some point I will be able to trace my grandmother Sullivan's family back in Ireland.
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