Oh Whoopee

So. Blogging. I'm quite new to this. Not unused to venting and ranting, however. So I think I'll be okay. I feel like I should explain the ridiculously simple meaning behind the title of my blog. All my life I expected myself to be perfect. Others started to expect it. I failed to be perfect. I'm accepting it. Others ... are still working on that. My name means grace. So ta-dah. Perfectly Imperfect Grace. A blog about myself. How cliche and self-centered, right? I just need an outlet. Here it is. Feel free to read.

Today! Was one of the best days I've had in a while. I've had a lot of issues in the past couple months. My long-distance boyfriend dumped me in October. Then two weeks later begged to get back together. Held high expectations and past mistakes over my head. I let him. Then. The day after Christmas. He got upset at something really small. Made it huge. Made it ginormous. I dumped him. We're done. Stress level is no longer over 9000.

Work definitely helps. I'm a barista at Starbucks. Oh yes. I am one of those happy peppy females you are greeted by the moment you walk in the door of your local cafe for your morning cup of coffee. It really is the best, though. My particular store is like my home away from home. Everyone there treats each other like family. We care for each other and we're honest and trusting. It's a really awesome environment. As much as I hate it when snobby caffeine deprived customers come in to condescend and belittle my job in very small but backhanded ways, there are some really great people who come in. I have favorites, oh yes. I know them by name, I know what they do, I know their usuals. I never thought I would get into something like that, but I have and I love it. It means a lot to me to be able to change someone's day even the smallest bit just by doing the simplest thing: Making sure I spell their name right on their drink, smiling, bantering, asking how they're doing, remembering things they've told me. It's awesome. Enough mush about work.

One of the things I've been struggling with lately is the fact that, now that I'm getting older and moving on, so are all my childhood friends. It's hard when I try to make contact with them and keep the friendship alive, but they don't seem to want to make an effort to stay friends with me. It's hard for me to let that go. Friends are my whole world. Possibly because I crave acceptance. If I feel like one of my friends really doesn't like me that much, or is annoyed by me, or just plain doesn't really like me, it bothers the crap out of me. I can't just let go of it like some people can. I care too much. If I don't have friends who accept me, I feel like maybe I won't be able to accept myself. I need that acknowledgment, that reassurance. I'm getting better at living without it. But it still affects me a little too much. Anyway. I talked to one of my old buddies from a while back today. He misses talking to me as much as I've missed talking to him, which is great to hear. He just moved though, so there's not a huge chance we'll be able to hang out together any time soon. But just knowing that he still wants to be close friends with me, makes a huge difference. I'm really grateful.

Well you've taken a small peek into my awkward, rambling, not too interesting mind. Today was a good day, so not a lot of drama nor odd occurrences to report. Maybe some other time.

-Grace