I wanna feel good

A little here and there tonight so let's start with something that's been on my mind for, I don't know, years.

Dear 3rd street Starbucks,

Three, sometimes four people behind the counter at any given time and every last one of you evokes the sense of urgency of an opium den. I get the same mother-lovin plain black coffee every single day. Every day. When I get to the front of the line after you've lingered for a deep thoughts pause between customers, you say 'tall black?' I say yes and then you either stand there and wait for someone five steps away to do the complicated kabuki dance that is filling my cup or you slowly turn around and do it yourself in the careful and determined way a five year old would pour coffee. For the very first time. If you worked at a bar you would absolutely be fired and that's serving a depressant. You are serving speed to people who need speed, who are already irritable because they haven't had any since the day before and you are moving too. fucking. slow. I hate you for being more conveniently located on my way to work. I know I'll get my coffee eventually but not before you serve me a steamy mug of frustration. Not unlike the steamy dump I want to take on your register (right in the ol tip box) in protest. Or maybe just to see if you are physically capable of moving any faster.

Be faster.

Ava

--

So it's official, I'm officially lame. I'm hopeful it won't last but wondering what it means when even a good day-a great day, brings me almost as low as I was high. Preliminary analysis suggests work and even the people at work, can't love you in a way that fills and spills over into your life. Professional admiration, affection, and respect make it a tad easier to get out of bed but they don't make it easier to come home to an empty life. I look forward to this next move for the possibility of extending the co-dependent relationship I have with my boss right now but also for the misplaced optimism of becoming someone better in a new space and place. Like one of these days I'll move and leave the worst of me behind. A recipe for running the rest of my life.

I'm just looking for something to pour my life into. Something that fills me even as I empty myself into it. I struggle with whether to search for it or work on not wanting it.