Intro to Me pt. I
Well, I finally gave in and made a blog like my boyfriend said I should. Iām not quite sure of what I should write down on here other than just things that I happen to think about, and in that sense it seems perfectly appropriate.Ā
Iām 20 years old. White, male, and Iām gay. But those things donāt really matter, do they? In the grand scheme of things (the most cliche thing Iāve ever typed), those identifiers donāt mean shit when it comes to living my life.Ā
For starters Iām an aspiring author, which is something Iāve wanted to do for mostly my entire life, though recently Iām not sure if Iāll ever realize that dream.Ā
I find myself thinking every day that Iāll just spend the rest of my life in the work force, waiting tables every night for eternity until I die. Donāt get me wrong, serving is a fairly lucrative job to have. On a good night I can make over $100, and usually I work four days a week. Since I live in Washington (but not SeaTac) I make $9.47 an hour. So on average I make about $400 a week, and then a paycheck of around $250-300 every other week.Ā
I take the bus to work every day, mostly. And I spend an average of $50 every three weeks on bus transit to get to work, and my commute is usually just under an hour every day. When I write it down it feels like I have such a nice, normal life. But does anybody really want that completely and totally? A life without excitement, only constant and crushing routine, yet a routine that wraps you in a sense of calm and safety.Ā
I work at a Buffalo Wild Wings, a restaurant that, if you know me, is not indicative of my personality in the slightest. I donāt like sports, I donāt really eat or drink the traditionalĀ āmanlyā foods like wings and beer and shit like that, and Iām not particularly fond of loud and obnoxious crowds that make booming screams of victory every thirty seconds. Yet, thatās where I work. Football season at a sports bar is probably the worst place you can ever be, at least for a person like me.Ā
I love my coworkers, for the most part. I get along with basically everyone I meet, and Iām glad for that trait of my personality. Of course, when I stop and think about it, do these people I think like me really want to be around me, or is it simply a convenience to talk to me every day?Ā














