Now that I’ve got an end in sight to ice cream shop job, my resentment of being there has grown to a new high. I just do what I’m told, am cordial to the supervisors I don’t like and pleasant to everyone else, and sing little songs to myself as I go about my work.

I’m sort of in the throes of end of summer doldrums. Basically I’ve done nothing this summer. Not because I haven’t wanted to. But working full time and taking a class and worrying about money takes a toll.
I’ve worked basically every weekend since June (ie every weekend I haven’t been too broke to do anything or go anywhere). The only time I’ve gotten out of town was to a family reunion. I haven’t been to one concert, because of the copious number of nights I’ve worked and how worried I’ve been about money and the fact that Alex (who I would presumably go to these concerts with) generally winds up working the nights that I don’t work. There have been a million cool things in town and I’ve missed almost all of them.

The other night were were basically talking about how much our summers have sucked and how much better things will be once school starts again. We’ll both be less busy. Many of my friends will be in town again. (Not that I’ve seen much of the ones who have been here; it took me about a month and a half to plan hanging out with the person who’s actually living closest to me.)

It’s not like there’s anything wrong. I knew I’d be working a lot.

I’m just sick of always being tired. I feel like I’m wasting my youth. Next summer, I’m going to be done school. This is my last summer vacation. Last.

Next summer I’ll be in a better financial position, maybe I’ll actually be able to afford to do something cool, or at least get away for awhile. But that’s miles away.

Everything past next May is basically this big blank nothing. I’ve talked about grad school, but I don’t know where I’m going.

Here is a pop song that seems to reflect my feelings both in its lyrical content and angsty delivery: More For Me by Tegan and Sara.

Note on Tegan and Sara: I’m probably the only girl in the world who got into them because of her boyfriend-at-the-time.

Edit: I lied. I have been to one concert. I saw Bela Fleck and the Flecktones at the Ottawa Jazz Festival. That was pure luck. And I did also go to a play. Which is like a concert without singing. Or booze. Or dancing.