I’ve been thinking of new things to put on paper but I forget everything. I just moved to Ohio which has been causing stress and my depression is coming back in waves. I want to create but I don’t feel motivated or 100% in my own mind. I put one day aside to draw and something happened. Still not content with that aspect of my life. Is that what being an artist is?
I’m pissed ya’ll.
I woke up at 5:30 am to finally get my scuba certification at Devil’s Den yesterday morning; I usually go to sleep around that time. My sister and I drove 3 hours total to do our final instructed dive. I’m so relieved that the classes are over, ecstatic to dive more. I hadn’t been able to work for more than a week as my boyfriend was in town and I’ve had scuba classes in the morning on the past two weekends, so naturally I feel broke. I also miss my strippers.
I decided to push through scuba, not nap, get ready for work, and try to make the money I spent this week. The country 500 is going on in Daytona so I thought the club would get busyyyyyy (plus everyone was telling me how much they made on Saturday). OH I forgot it was Memorial Day weekend too. I waited in the back for about 30 minutes and finished the bottle I brought in. I thought maybe if I moved to the floor, even though we only had one customer, more people would walk in and actually stay. So there I am, sitting on a bandana with my back arched for a nice view for the next person who walks in to see. No catch though.
Once I finally did get one dance down, the customer didn’t want any more, but I broke the seal which usually mens I’ll make some money. No, I walk out and the new manager is the new VIP attendant and he charges em for two dances (I have to pay 5 dollars every song I’m back there.) Of course I argue and he’s just as much as a dick as I would expect so I end up giving him the money because he is now wasting my time. After a mediocre night, I sit him down and start to talk to him, which becomes an argument, which became us both yelling. He said that other girls tell him I don’t pay for my dances, which isn’t true. How unprofessional. He just wouldn’t budge so I told him to walk back in the VIP room every song that I’m back there to ensure he’s not lying.
I ended up staying awake for 24 hours so I could work, only to make only 20 dollars and lose sleep over my new ignorant manager.
P.S. During our argument, he told me that he is only supposed to walk by the booths if he hears a girl screaming for help which disgusts me. I’ve been through plenty of VIP attendants and they always walk through the “hallway” just past every booth every 4 or so songs.