The Light In My Eyes

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You may be wondering why I have a noticeable lack of whining posts about my workplace. There are several reasons, all of which I am more than happy to explain.

First off--I while I am not in LOVE with my job, I am happy at my job. I don't leave crying every night, I don't wish chinese torture upon myself instead of work, I have a funny boss and a nice manager. Granted, I don't run about gushing that my job completes me (hey! who does?!) but by no means do I hate it.

Furthmore, I have, as of late, purposed to keep a good attitude. Yes. I could find things to nitpick and whine about. But what is the use?! I try to talk about work as little as possible. (For those of you who are accustomed to my hour long discourses on work, you know what a change this is.)

However, just yesterday I was talking to someone about the family restaurant. When I finished, they asked me why I didn't start one of my own. HA! If I really felt like throwing my money away, I might take up a slightly more interesting habit, like crack-smoking or making paper airplanes out of benjamin's. They continued to inform me when I spoke of that time past, that my face lit up and I grew much more animated. It got me to thinking, what WAS it about the restaurant that I loved so much? My father has said similar things. And I personally remember being happy.

So this is what I ponder, at my quiet desk while pretending to work. What was it that made me happy?

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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