Dear journal (and friends). As usual it’s late… or early. I suppose it all depends on how you look at it. I got off of work late tonight. We were under staffed yet again. I’m beginning to think I should just extend clean up by an extra hour every night since we always seem to be a man down. Be proactive rings inside my aching skull.
The past two days I’ve been a strange mixture of chill, overwhelmed, agitated, and remorseful. The house is a mess and I’m pushing towards over time. The Man has worked exactly opposite me. He keeps taking the pay card so I can’t get basic things like groceries. I starve all day. Then The Man takes the easy way out and gets pizza for the chillins. They leave nothing for me. Finally I gave and snap at The Man. Then he does something to try to make up for taking the card with him to work. Tonight he stopped in the restaurant with cash so I could get gas and food. He had a Monster for me. Now I’m home reflecting on the day. The house has been cleaned and there are flowers on my dresser.
I really want to hike Tallulah Gorge tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to wake up in time. It’s a bit of a drive. Maybe I should relax and settle for renting some movies.
I also need to play with my Tarot cards more. I’ve been trying to memorize the meanings and learn different spreads. My least favorite is the Celtic Cross, ironic since I’m a 1/4 Irish.
Some day when I have more cash to spare I’d love to take one of those DNA tests that tells you exactly what your heritage is. It’s something I’ve always wanted broken down to absolutes. Knowing all the corners of the globe my blood has traveled from so that I can be here in this moment would give me closure. This is what I know. Both of my mother’s parents are Mexican. Most of our family lives in the Yucatan Pennisula. It would be such a trip to find out I have Inca or Aztec flowing through my veins. My grandfather was an orphan and there are actually some doubts as to his being 100% Mexican. My dad’s mom is 100% Irish. My dad’s dad is a wild card. As a small child I was told he is Polish. Later in life I learned that no is sure. I’ve heard that he was Polish, Russian, or German. Some day I’m going to unravel this mystery.
It’s probably for the best I sleep now.