My Voice Could Go. My Substance Won't.

While I work, I talk. Soon enough there won't be enough voice to use for my upselling tasks.

And not every person I meet is happy to see me so cheery. The opposite in fact. The eccentricities I refuse to give up are now making me a subject of humiliation. For those who pass and laugh at me, because I don't have their bags of high market brand products, or the perfect partner on my arm, I feel nothing for them. There's no hint of feeling sorry for them, and to be honest, I'd be happier focusing on toast and jam rather than their immaturity.

'There's nothing spectacular happening in my life right now,' I said. 'But I'm happy, because of what I'm doing. And what I have done.'

'You seem to be composed of emotions and ideas,' said Tina. 'Instead of desires.'

'Yeah,' I replied. 'It feels amazing.'

Bus Girl?

The traffic lights on the way home do take around an hour to let free the Green man. There are four directions that the traffic can come. So I suppose I should expect a long wait.

At 17.56pm today, I looked to my left and saw a bus. Through its darkened window I saw a girl, seated on one of the raised seats at towards the back of the low deck. She was reading a book.

In my head I thought, 'I do that. Books are my friends.' Then I played with the tassels on my new hat, tickling my nose with one of them.

Due to the long traffic, the bus had not moved. I try to see what book the girl on the bus is reading. I narrow my eyes. No such luck. It has a dark cover. Yet it's not what the other girls are reading. I try wishing I can get closer. Again, no such luck.

Then it's her hair I notice. Black, straightened, with a cute fringe. Pale skin, noticeable even through the filter of the window. And eyes that are, even from this view, quite big. Could it be...?

If indeed she is the Bus Girl I came across before, I have made my mind about her. She has the look of Zooey Deschanel. She reads books on a bus. In these brain cells and heart of mine that have been messed about before, I have come to a sensible conclusion.

I'm in love with her.

Welcome to the Dream Factory

'Would you kindly follow me?' I said, being sure to have a twinkle in my eye.

'You're very cheery,' said the girl.

'It's my first day. I felt if I acted like Willy Wonka, I'd be sure to make an impression.'

This of course means that at one point, I could show that I care less for the miserable fates for those who thoroughly deserve it.

My first day working at a cinema. It isn't as cold as I thought. There are many codes to remember. I have nerves still when starting a shift. Yet...

It's possible that I'm looking forward to the texture of events that will occur at each shift. On the way to and from work there will be various goings on. My observational skills will come in use. If only to make myself feel better than I'm doing all I can. And that I'm not the only human in this world who maybe got a short straw.