In case you're wondering

So in case you're wondering, I did it. I completed my master's degree. I am a graduate of graduate school. What they don't tell you about graduate school is that it's easier than undergrad. Seriously. Don't get me wrong, I wrote tons and read even more, but it still seemed easier than undergrad. I wish I felt smarter than I did before grad school. Oh well.

So now I'm done, and I'm searching for a "real" job. It's not fun. The economy has gone to shit. Jobs keep disappearing. I kept reading about it happening and then it hit home. Literally. My mom lost her job. Try accepting money from your parents that they want to give you for your birthday and graduation when all you want to do is take care of them instead--it sucks. All I do right now is work. Day in, day out. My internship turned into a job for the summer, so that's nice. Not that it's a lot of money, but still, money is money. I'm still working at the restaurant too. I had probably my worst shift ever on Friday night. It wasn't bad financially; it just wasn't my night. I was not on top of my game, and I hate feeling that way. Not to mention the fact that I'm not one of those people that can hide their emotions well. In fact, I wear them completely on my face. Friday night, my face said, "I hate you people, and I hope you all die." Apparently it came across, because one customer took it upon himself to go the restaurant the next morning before we opened and complain to the owner about me. And I know the manager from the night before left her note about my performance as well. I don't know what it said, but I know it couldn't be good. Like I said, it was a bad night. Not to mention the fact that I'd already worked at the restaurant earlier in the day. Whatever - it was just one night - I have to keep telling myself that.

So yeah, I'm a little tired and overwhelmed right now. I work at the museum from about 9 until noon pretty much Monday through Friday. I do some job searching/applying/eating lunch/running errands from noon until about 4. Oh yeah, then I go to the restaurant from about 4:30 until 10 or 11. Then I pass out. There's some variation in the schedule, but it's pretty much six days a week of work. Doesn't it sound glamorous? I have Sunday and Monday off - two whole days in a row. I'm retardedly excited.

I didn't expect this post to be quite so whiny. In fact, there was other stuff to write about. I guess it'll just have to wait.