We got some pretty wet and nasty weather this afternoon, so I sat inside the bus/train station for twenty minutes or so while waiting for the bus to take me back to Laurel so I could close at the bookstore. It just so happened that the 178 to Boston arrived while I was there, and when the "all aboard" announcement sounded on the loudspeaker I half-stood and reached for my bag -- the 178 was always the train I took to New Haven when returning to Yale, you see. But then I remembered that that was then and this is now. Then, yea, while I can't say I particularly enjoyed the Yale experience, and I hated the students, I was still pretty proud to be going there. I did like some classes. And I had hope that things would improve when I graduated -- that, at the very least, armed with a Yale degree I could find a decent job and start to build a life for myself. But now it's going on two years since I graduated. I'm living with my mother and working almost 60 hour weeks for abysmal pay, and with with few days off on top of that. And when I do finally get a day off, I'm usually so exhausted that I'm forced to use it to catch up on sleep -- wery exciting. I hate my life. And as I remembered my present situation, I froze. Then, sighing sadly, I sat back down and resumed waiting for the bus that would return me to the local area for my closing shift at the bookstore.

Rain makes for accidents and traffic jams. So I got there late.

It feels like they're trying to phase me out at the bookstore, actually. We've got another new manager and two new hires, one of whom they're already talking about making a manager. I haven't been on the register for my last two shifts, being mostly relegated to straightening the store and picking up after customers come in with Starbucks coffee and sit down to sip and read, only to leave their empty cups and books on the table when they finish (as if the store were a combination wastebasket-library). I've been working at the store for over five months now and I'm still on probation, so to speak, as I've never received my 90-day evaluation (or the potential raise that might have accompanied it). It's becoming painfully apparent (as if my salary weren't indication enough) that my presence at the store isn't valued or appreciated in the least. I hate the job, and, as I've said, I hate my life.

I want to go back to New Haven someday, just to walk around and smile at the sights I once took for granted. I thought I hated it when I was there, but looking back on it now, I realize that some of my best days ever were spent on that campus. I was a Yalie. It meant nothing to me, and yet I still derived a certain measure of pride from that fact. Now it means nothing to anyone.

Closing at the bookstore again tomorrow night. And Sunday night. Rah.