Hello, I'm Caylin. I'm a snarky, confused, cloudy-minded nineteen year old girl. This is my blog. Have fun.

August 10, 2014

It’s 3:45 am. I got off of work at three. every single bone in my body aches. Running around for ten hours on five hours of sleep was the last thing that my body wanted to do today. 

I’ve been really bummed out the last few days, and I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s just work. I have only had really long, and really late shifts lately. The money is good and all, but everyone is hanging out while I’m dealing with drunk people and getting hit on. My friend who just moved out of town was in town tonight, and I couldn’t see her. Since Rylee moved out of Wichita, we see quite a bit less of each other. Serving sometimes really sucks. Everyone hangs out on the weekends, you’re stuck in a restaurant.

I guess I could look for another that is consistent in hours, doesn’t kill my body, and gives me my weekends off, but I know that it’s going to be nearly impossible to find a job that pays as well as serving. 

I know I’m complaining. The lack of sleep and lack of social interaction with people that I care about is starting to get to me, I think.

Or maybe it’s because I’m hungry.

The answer is all of the above. 

August 7, 2014

I would kill to be sitting in my parent’s basement, watching Coraline and Fantastic Mr. Fox, eating chinese food, and for the weather to be cold. 

I’ve saved three drafts tonight; partially because I feel like I should right a text post since I haven’t posted one in a while, but I’m also having a tough time writing one because I don’t have much to talk about. Life has been busy. Lots of working. Lots of sleeping. Lots of consuming food I regret eating immediately after. I guess I’m doing alright.

I saw a homeless guy while working today. He came up to the patio and stole food off of a guest’s plate. My manager called the cops. He said, “having homeless people hanging out around the restaurant scares people away.” I don’t know why it irritated me so much. He’s homeless. If he’s going to steal food, then act scared and runaway immediately after, he’s hungry. Give him food. It pisses me off how homeless are dehumanized in situations like that.

My car has been broken for the past month. It’s finally fixed, but because my last job sharply went downhill, and I lost a lot of money, I’m slowly working on getting new insurance on my car. And hopefully soon, new tires.

Sometimes I wish I could get things handed to me. Sometimes I wish I was naturally book smart and swim my way through school. Sometimes I wish I was born in an upper class family so money was never a problem. But, here I am. I grew up in a household that lived paycheck to paycheck. I learned how to become financially independent my senior year of high school. And in this past year, I’ve had my ass handed to me over and over and over again. I’m doing okay, though. Life has been wild. And I’ve been tackling it the best that I can. I don’t really give a shit about what anyone has said about me. Because, no one takes a second to see where you started, and see how much you’ve grown to where you’re at now.

Life may not be exactly where I’d like it to be, but life is good, and I’m learning to enjoy it.

None of these paragraphs are related to the next. Sorry this jumps around.

This is something that bothers me. Something super disgusting that bothers me. Like, if you aren’t interested in poop, I advice you to read no further.


Now, I know public bathrooms are different, but at a private home? Come on. There’s people who live and share this bathroom. Waking up and seeing poop streaks in the toilet ain’t what I’m about.

Ya dig?

I hate that I constantly have to search for what could potentially be a bad situation every time I put my car into park.

I hate getting yelled at, whistled at, and even have disgusting, scummy middle aged men come up to my fucking car window trying to get my attention.

I have never been so fucking disrespected, and offended. I have never felt so vulnerable and so damn helpless.

Like why should I have to completely avoid the gas station by my house? I can’t even put $10 worth of gas into my car.

I do not ever want to see some guy do that to a girl whose young enough to be their daughter.

Growing up being female is so dangerous, and so scary.

One of these days, it’s going to be some scummy piece of shit that I’m going to flip out on. Whether it be the millionaire coming into my work place trying to flirt with his waitress while he’s out away from his family, or the guy strung out on meth at the gas station; I am going to flip the fuck out.

I am not eye candy. I am not a toy. I am not some pet. I am a nineteen year old fucking girl who wants to be left alone.

I have had enough of being disrespected by grown ass men.

Serving is sometimes really cool, when I make $200 in one night. On a Sunday. Making $350 in two nights. Saturday and Sunday.


Friday, April 4th, 2014

I haven’t made a proper text post in a while. That’s okay. I’ve been busy. Life is busy. Growing up is busy. And gay.

I’ve been working an average of 45 hours a week serving. In the two months I’ve been at this bar and grill, I have more responsibility than a lot of the girls that have been there since the bar has opened in October.

I went from working as a host at Olive Garden, literally only pulling in about $500 on average a month, and getting by. Now, I’m pulling in over double that in a month, and I want more. I want more money.

I think maybe it might be because I was raised in a household where we always struggled. Now, I am able to pay car insurance, rent, phone bill, and any other expenses thrown my way. I truly just want to be successful. I may not be in school, but that’s not going anywhere, and not a priority to me right now. I just want money. I’ve never wanted it as bad as when I started serving. I’m getting a second job; something hourly. I’m thinking, if I work mornings-afternoons at wherever, I can work evenings at the bar, and hopefully pull in enough money to be 100% capable of moving out into an apartment comfortably.

Here’s my financial situation, and my thoughts on it. Sorry if I offended you.

Rylee comes home from his two week long trip with Patrick, and I couldn’t be more excited. I’m really excited to start focusing on our relationship, and making it the best it can be.

Life is good. I am happy. I am going to write more often.

People are intimidated by two things: happiness and success.

I’m happy, but I am always climbing for more success. Life is good.

It’s hard for me to respond to, “I miss you” from people from high school. Apart of it is because my first thought is, “well why couldn’t you just text me or call me and ask to hang out?” But then I realize how many people I’ve grown distant with and haven’t tried contacting because of me working so much. When I do get a day off, I sleep and see Rylee. Everyone is super involved in their own responsibilities, just like me. And ya know? It sucks.

Growing up doesn’t suck, but it’s definitely bittersweet.

I worked 32 hours in two days. I made more money than I know what to do with in one weekend. But damn, I like working. I like my job. I like not being money stressed anymore. I like how life is going.

I’m hoping to start eating healthier. I want to try and get all of my boxed food and soda that I have left in my cabinets gone so I can start purchasing only healthy stuff. I want to go get a gym membership and new running shoes so I can drop some weight, then gain it all back in muscle.

These are my goals.

February 10, 2014

I haven’t posted anything in a while, and I think now would be a good time.

Life has been a mess. My car has died two times in three days, I have barely been sleeping, barely been eating. Not because I have been choosing this or anything, I’ve just been working constantly. Last week, I worked six days and four doubles. 

My managers have been really impressed with me. I wish I could express how damn strict the place I work for is, because they are. I mean, a girl was fired because she didn’t score well when a secret shopper came in. And by well, she got an 89, when she needed a 90 to pass. Anyways, I’m getting trained to handle all of our server’s money, as well as the bar’s money. I don’t know. It’s really exciting. I’ve been there for a month and a half, work more than a lot of servers, have high sales, and I’m gaining trust with my coworkers. It’s a satisfying feeling.

Outside of work, life has been hectic. BUT, things are on the path of being super good. I finally was put on anti-depressants. I’m going to the doctor next wednesday to find a therapist. I know, these things are things that a lot of teenagers are like, “wow, you’re like 19. what in your life is possibly stressing you out to the point to where you need to be on depressants?” There’s a lot going on. I want to be more optimistic. I want to be good to myself. I’m going to do everything in my power to get better. For me. For everyone around me. Things are going to be good. I can feel it. I don’t know how things are going to turn out, but they will be better than what they’ve been. 

It’s time to make things right, ya feel me?

It has been such a good day. Work is stressful, but I hate not having work. I still have so much to learn. I probably shouldn’t have chosen a bar as my first serving job where I have food and a shit ton of alcohol to memorize, but it’s fun. I’ve made good friends at work. Life is good. I am happy.

You make me so happy. I cannot handle it.

I am so excited, words cannot express it. I can’t wait.

I forgot how much I enjoyed writing. It’s totally worth an ache in the wrist. I am so content right now.

No pants, an electric blanket, and my favorite person curled up beside me? I am so very content.