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This has nothing to do with what I wanted this blog to be about
Working in a restaurant is very stressful, and I would like to think I do it very well. I have experience only in one michellin starred restaurant, and the opportunities they gave me are extremely generous. They have given me more room to grow than i could ask from any company.
They put me into high pressure situations that I wouldn’t have thought to be in before. The level of stress though burns me out very easily. 
I hate to say this but sometimes I feel overwhelmed with the level of stress I have to deal with. Managing staff as well as taking care of my guests and helping my waiters get tables back on time when there are no extremely experienced waiters who are willing to go above and beyond in speed, I have to keep an eye on every single one. 
I am doing everything I started doing as well as focusing on all the new things that I have to do as a manager. 
Today is one of the days that I feel I haven’t performed as well as I could have due to the way I spoke to guests and dealt with complaints. I had a bad day today, and I know it happens to everyone and I know that it is impossible to do anything about it now that it is done but it points out the level of pressure I had that I couldn’t deal with the way I was talking and the things I was saying, the tone of voice, the emotional sympathy. I had no capacity. 
I have a trial as an assistant restaurant manager on Sunday and I am stressing about not being able to deliver to the standards that my CV mention. 
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The Girl and The City - A Story (II)
The next morning, she woke up, got dressed, and popped over to the living romo where her mother was sitting. She drank her cup of milk, had some Fruit Loop cereals, her favorite, kissed her mother goodbye, and started for the door. Since the school was a couple blocks away there was no need to have a companion on the walk, she felt confident enough to make it by herself. 
She got into her homeroom, popped her bag in her shelf, and sat at the chair that had her name on it. She sat and watched the kids play on the mats of the classroom, laughing, waiting for their teacher to come in and tell them to settle down. She looked at her books, imagined that she never thought she’d have such nice clean books from a school. She grabbed her writing book and started writing her name in cursive writing and drawing flowers around it. She suddenly noticed a shadow hovering over her. Someone was watching what she was doing. She looked back and found a hand on her shoulder. A girl. She was the same age as her and had been there for half a year. Her name was, Sara. 
Sara held out her hand and confidently spoke, ‘Hey! I like the flowers you’re drawing there, would you like to borrow my colored pencils and we can decorate them together?’
That was the first friend she made at the school, and she couldn’t be happier. 
In no time she found that she could speak freely and laugh like all the other kids. Even though Marwa still wasn’t part of all the activites and some of the kids still made fun of her, she knew she wasn’t alone and could always talk to Sara about anything that went on. They would sit and laugh about the looks other kids gave them and secretly make fun of them at sleepovers. Their friendship seemed to be a beam of light that let her fire breathe for the first time in what felt like years.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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small breakdown of my story building for reference to keep track of what I’m actually writing.
I thought it would be very nice to kind of sum up what’s been going on so far. I realised I haven’t written any form of story since I was in the 6th grade so lets get on track with what I have.
I’m writing a story about a small town, rural town girl who grew up in poverty and makes her way to the big cirty with her mother and for the first time in her life she thinks she has everything she could ever want until she realises it’s not all its cut out to be and the city slowly eats up her wholesome and kind soul.
My characters do not have any names, I prefer to keep the story simple and leave the interpretation to the reader. However, it is awfully exhausting continuously having to write ‘the girl’ and ‘her mother’ all the time so for the case that I need it lets name the girl Marwa and the mother Nadine.
In terms of where they come from or what city they are in I do not want to mention that at all. I have created a fantasy space in my head of where they came from and where they went I want my audience to capture whatever place they want from the light descriptions.
I’m unsure of where I am going with this story, I have an idea of what I want to happen but not sure of how i’ll come about it. Probably the hints of bad writing but hey, I’m figuring it out as I go.
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The Girl and The City - A Story
Once upon a time there was a girl. She grew up in a small town, quite poor where there was nothing. A desolate wonderland of green grass, dry patches of land, sun, and elephants crossing the road. She would wake up at 7am every morning, have her breakfast, which was a cup of milk and maybe some cereal when they had it, and she would go outside and wait for her bus. This bus wasn't like the yellow busses you see in the standard city, it was an elephant bus. Some morning she would get into school and hear that one of her classmates didn't make it that morning. The roads were dangerous places to walk around at during any time of day. Sharing it with giant and glorious beasts wasn't easy.
When she was around the age of 8, her mother got an opportunity to start a new life. She got offered a job out in the city, somewhere far away from where they were now. She packed her things, said goodbye to her friends, hugged and kissed her grandparents she thought she would see again in a couple days, and off they went to the big city.
The job her mother got offered was a factory job. She was helping in the line of making shoes. Hammer down some nails and flip up the insoles. It wasn't anything special but she got her moneys worth and realised it was the most she had ever made in her life. Her and he baby girl moved into an apartment, quite run down but the first ever apartment they had seen the inside of. Where they came from they had only a hut made of bamboo with straw mattresses lining the floor.
They lived a couple blocks away from an elementary school where the girl for the first time ever ventured to by foot. This all together was a brand new experience for her. She was always used to being careful on the streets, watching the giants roam past her on the bus, and hearing nothing but birds and monkeys rummage around in the jungle.
The city, she soon put together, was kind of jungle all together. Instead of trees they had huge buildings, taller than any tree she had ever seen in her life. Instead of birds they had horns from cars that rushed by on the busy streets. Instead of monkeys rummaging up in the trees there were people chattering everywhere making a whole collective sounds of nothing but noise and mumbles that made her head spin and ache.
On her first day of school she got bullied and laughed at for being different, for not having the clothes everyone else had, for being small and skinny, for not having a clean bag, or the barbie doll the other girls had. At lunch she sat by herself and tried to seek some comfort in the food on her plate the lunch lady would give her for free because of her nice eyes and cute smile. She would sit and watch the other kids play and found it very hard to understand why nobody liked her.
When she got home her mother would ask her how her day went and even though she felt terrible and wanted to scream from the torture of the laughs that rang in her head, she looked up at the tired eyes her mother wore, and the scraggly hairs she had hanging loose from her ponytail, and she said, 'It was great mama.'
She had her dinner, her and her mother watched some tv, and she off she went to sleep. In bed she would stay up thinking that tomorrow was another day and hopefully things would be different.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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This has nothing to do with what I set about to achieve in this blog.
I just had at thought and decided I might try to write it down since I haven't done any writing in general in a while.
I have been thinking about sobriety and health for a while. The negative effect that everything must have on you and your mental state is awful. I've been drinking since I was a teenager. I can't remember the first time I ever had a sip of anything but I remember the first time I got drunk. It was me and my brother with a couple of his high school friends. I was always the one that cleaned everything up and made sure the living room they destroyed looked nice and practically untouched for when my parents walked in. But one night they decided to not go out and stay in instead and, me being 13 at the time, they thought it was a good idea for me to have my first drink of alcohol like an adult.
I had three to four drinks of some super cheap and shit tasting vodka, and I was gone. I was spinning, I threw up in the sink, had my brother carry me to bed and I remember him telling me, 'You are going to sleep so well tonight.' And i did. Slept like a rock. Woke up the next morning like nothing happened. Just a taste of stale alcohol in my mouth, a light smell of vomit, but new experience of my new drunk.
I felt like I had grown up.
Since then I can say that alcohol has very much been around in my life. It was the thing we always did to have fun, it was the thing that gave you a rush when you started sneaking around the house and replacing the vodka in your parents bottle with water so they wouldn't notice.
It was so ingrained in my life from an early age that that is the thing you do to have fun with yourself and other people.
Eventually it also became how to deal with problems and have a better time. The first time I had my heartbroken and I was left curled up in a bathroom scream crying from the emotional pain, I had my first emotional drunk night alone. And many followed after. Plus reckless behaviour.
But anyway, that was the emotional side where I thought alcohol was helping. And I kept doing it so many times that eventually, it stuck to my head that 'Yes. This is how you deal with your stuff and be happier as you go about it. No one likes someone who is always upset.'
It really is awful to think that could take away such an innocence from someone. Like you feel like you can't be yourself or you can't feel what you feel without escaping it immediately in a glass of something.
Now when you think about people that are sober, people kind of laugh and judge. I was sitting at a table once with my boyfriend and his housemates and they were talking about whatever they were doing back in the day and all their stories started with 'Remember when we took so much acid that...' or 'Remember that one time we drank so much...'
At one point somebody acknowledged it and said 'It's funny how all our stories start with drugs or alcohol, but you won't ever hear someone ask if they remember that time when they had that glass of water together.'
I've been thinking about this a lot and how it sounds kinds of sad we think it's 'lame' or 'uncool' or 'unnatural' to just not have a drink.
I like the drink. I like the drink a lot. I drink one pint at least everyday. Some days I have two. When I wanna go a little wild I have four. I like the drink. Recently its come to light of why I do, which is why I spoke about my first times and how I handled it since with my emotional states.
You wanna know? Well whether you do or don't, I'll tell ya. I realised I feel like I am no fun on my own and always needed my good friend Alcohol on my side to let me be the best version of me, especially in social situations. If I am buzzy or have the two glasses in me, I'm more confident and funnier and a lot more open to any subject or responses upping up my wit. And that's an issue. And that's what makes me upset.
I had a small chat with someone about this as well when it finally clicked and he said he felt the same way. So it got me to thinking, does that mean everyone feels the same way about it? I know real Alcoholism starts because of emotional pain and you feel like you need a drink to deal with it or else without it you become 'weak'. I mean, obviously yeah. That's how any type of addiction starts.
I would like to say that I only drink when I feel good. Today, for example, I have a slight hangover and I had one pint and I feel worse than I did before and the only reason I had one was to try up my social battery but I feel more drained and tbh I never wanted the drink in the first place. BUT I bet if I give it two days, I will feel better and want to have another round of a 'good night'.
I always thought I had a problem. But I guess not. Maybe a small one. But if that's the only thing I got going for me, I'm doing pretty good?
I like lying to myself as well though so I don't really know.
Goodbye :)
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my self destructive issue
If you look inward too much, eventually you start to get familiar with the images you see in your head. There are some things though you never really want to dive into, or some things no matter how hard you try to figure out a root cause or a back lash meaning towards it you can't find it.
Alcohol for me is my kryptonite. 1 glass is never enough. I want to have 2. and from 2 i get to 6 and from 6 i add on another and we keep going. I can never get enough. From there you have cocaine. Cocaine is a big part of this alcohol ritual. Once you get drunk enough, you want to keep going, so you do a couple lines of coke and you're good to carry on. Now. That also goes with the same concept as the alcohol. Once I have one line, i want another and then next minute I never want it to end.
When I was a teenager I always kept pushing myself with alcohol and trying to push into the late hours of the night. Now as an adult, I want to keep partying. I have a good time, I feel extremely happy with the people I am with, nothing matters but the drink, the company, and the coke. I don't want it to end. So I wouldn't say I'm pushing myself for more. I think sometimes it comes as a 'why not?' nad 'fuck it' but recently. I just didn't want it to end. I had enough. But I just didn't want it to end.
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The Lobby
I tried to imagine a better place for me to venture in. Perhaps a place that doesn't start off so dark. I've tried this exercise for the past couple days to close my eyes and appear in a lobby. A grand golden hotel lobby. And the people that are sitting in those sofas are different versions of myself that start talking to me and placing their ideas.
Of course I am every part of these versions that live in me but we all have certain characters that are different from our everyday one.
I as a collective have one name, lets say its Isabella. But there is a version of myself in my head that's called Izzy who is my artistic and creative side. You have Isa that's the more 'I'm a realist but i hope for shit' type of person, you got Bella who is the romantic one and really ponders about the romances in my life, and you got Ella who is the tough, rough, tomboy. I like to think Izzy and Ella work together though. They usually end up meshing as one character.
Now I'm sitting in a chair talking to Izzy who brings up that I have lost touch with my creativity and she asks me where I have disappeared to and why I have left my art. She then takes me down to this one elevator at the back of the lobby, grand and old school like the one in AHS Hötel, and goes through all the potential I have to reconnect back with it and how I used to express myself regardless of what people thought how I did or what I did. She tells me I've lost that touch and need to 'stop conforming with society'.
Side note: The way I see her is like a bit of a punk tbh. Like the early 2000 high school best friends they depicted in high school based movies or TV shows. Very much like Janice Ian
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The Thing in My Mind
Last night I laid down in my bed and decided to close my eyes and travel down my mind. I heard some calling it a mind palace. Whether it was built from a small village that you grew up in that the huts were different rooms you could enter, or if it was an actual palace or castle, or if it was really just a grand lobby room of different sections. I thought it would be cool to try and see if I could envision one myself since I always felt like my mind was an absolute noodling mess.
I started off not being able to get anywhere when I first saw the black of my eye lids and found it was close to impossible to put anything together. So I took a deep breath and pictured a door. When I opened it this door showed me one narrow dirt road like hallway. Like one of those field roads you see in movies. Except when I looked to the side there wasn’t any fields, there were these black and red like waves. The waves looked as if they were drawn with coloured pencils so you could really see the streaks and the lines that made up the wave and they seemed to move upwards, the curve of them almost hovering over the path. The sound wasn’t like anything rushing by but a soft hum giving the whole scene and eerie feeling.
I carried on walking down this path as this dirt road eventually got to black when I reached a wall. I wanted to get out of the humming room I was in so I imagined another door to try get me deeper in. And like magic there was one there, a wooden and cracked old door. When I opened it lead me nowhere other than a black room. I could feel my conscious mind asking question like ‘why haven’t I appeared somewhere new? Why is it so dark?’ that’s when I chose to just turn on a light and see what was in there. It looked very much like a dusty, bashed down, creepy movie basement. There was a broken shelf on my left, the smell was of saw dust and mold, there were old toys laying around like baseball bats and big exercise balls. But even though the room was small and narrow it stretched out very far, and the light only lit the first side of the room. I wanted to go deeper but felt this cold aura coming and like a voice that called towards me. I decided to turn off the light, close the door, and leave it for another time. I was here to explore the general side of my brain in a more visual way, not have a full creepy/confrontational experience.
I look to my left, (this is where i noticed everything i did started from my left), and pictured another door. This one though wasn’t like the one I saw just before. It was a warm mahogany type of wood and I could feel heat radiating from it and the smell of coming home. I knew exactly where this one was going. As soon as I made it through i could feel the peace and warmth of being in my garden back home, smelling the damp and humid air and the wet soil from the plants just being watered. I noticed I was wearing this yellow summer dress and I felt nothing but extreme peace and happiness. I walked around the pool, splashing my feet along the sides and walked into my living room. I was alone but I had that 11am sensation where I had just gotten out of bed and was waiting for my parents to text me so i could meet them out somewhere for lunch. I sat in my living room drinking some water and hearing the chirps of the birds around me, the traffic outside the walls, the water from the pool seeping over the sides as the motor ran, and my maid sweeping the fallen leaves from the grass.
I decided that perhaps I should wander over to my room for a minute and see what the experience was like there. I walk in, i feel the humid, musty air from the AC being turned off and the floors just being mopped. I looked around the room and felt incredibly amazing and relaxed and perhaps a little sad that I haven’t been there for so long. My consciousness then asked a question ‘have you noticed that you have been alone this whole time and there hasn’t been any encounter with anyone?’ i brushed it off because of course I haven’t had contact or imagined someone in my moment, I’m only just exploring and I’m incredibly at peace with where I’m at. I walked into the bathroom, saw the tub, the sink, tried to look in a mirror to test if I could see myself or how I would see myself but it all sketched out whenever i tried to pass by it. Almost like a glitch. And then I turn around to get back into the bed room and I saw her.
She was me, but when I was 18. Something was off though. She had long black hair, pinned back at the top, a small crop top and some shorts but she wasn’t smiling, she had a frown on her face, her jaw dropped a little, and the black hollowed eyes like she didn’t have any. Black stream of liquid was going out of them and she was just staring at me. I tried to leave her but she would follow me and stick around me. She had this green, zombie like mist coming from her, and she wasn’t walking with legs, she was ghosting around.
I could feel her presence as I entered back into my room, the space i had just felt at peace with, but she had somehow just changed the atmosphere. I felt a panic stir through me and i could feel myself rushing to the door, a small wave of anxiety rushed through my physical body as I went and I had to immediately open my eyes. 
In the end I guess I did see someone in there.
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