As of today, it has officially been a year since daddy passed away. An entire year. It seems so daunting to go that long without him, but day by day I seem to have managed. I do miss him, though, and I still cry almost every time I think about him. I feel like I should do something to commemorate him, but I'm not sure exactly what. I kind of want to surround myself with things that remind me of him, or do something that we used to do together. I don't know. I'll think of something, but right now I need to stop crying like a stupid little girl and go to bed so I can get up for work in the morning.

Okay let me just say that if you are ever going to be cutting up jalapenos or any other hot peppers WEAR GLOVES!! WEARGLOVESWEARGLOVESWEARGLOVES FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WEAR GLOVES!!!! It hurts ithurtsithurtsithurts omfgitwon'tstopBURNING!! T_T Holy crap! How long is this gonna' last!? Nnnnnghhhhh owwwwiiiiiiieeeeeeee fuuuuuuuuuckkkk!!! T_T

I am officially out of a job now. Ryan pulled me into this office shortly after we opened and told me that we got mystery shop scores, and I had one that was unsatisfactory. So that's it. Zero-tolerance-probationary-whatever has been violated, and I'm done. Ryan gave me the option to resign, though, rather than be fired. So I tendered my resignation today. He said I could have until the 31st to find a new job.

Ryan looked like he was gonna' cry. I know he really didn't want to have that conversation with me. He really put himself out trying to keep me around. If it weren't for the fact that he likes me so much and he knew that I was really trying, then I woulda' been outta' there a long time ago. It's the dealing-with-the-customers bit. I'm too shy. It's not like I'm rude to them, I just get nervous around strangers and stuff, and I'm quiet and withdrawn when they really want me to be super chatty and outgoing. So that's it, ultimately. I have been praised repeatedly for my efficiency, diligence, accuracy, punctuality, work ethic, determination, etc. but I'm lost my job because I'm too shy and quiet. What ever. I'm sure if it were entirely up to Ryan, I wouldn't have lost my job. He said he would write me a letter of recommendation and that someone will be very lucky to have me as an employee.

So I spent a good portion of the day crying, and I had to write a letter of resignation and all that stupid crap. WTF ever.

Now I'm gonna' go out and get drunk with Jess and Tom and his girlfriend, and we're gonna' go to the midnight release of Harry Potter. And I have opening shift tomorrow, but I don't care. I'll go in there all sleep deprived and hungover and pissy. What are they gonna' do, fire me? Psh.

Today wasn't fun. And for once in a long while, it had nothing to do with issues at work. About an hour into work I got an e-mail from Jess (oldest little sister) telling me that my youngest sister Layla's mother (Robin) had died. I freaked out and swore, but luckily there were no customers around, so my boss just shrugged it off. I was instantly worried about Layla. I went into the back room and called mom, and she told me that she didn't have a lot of information, but that they were working on it.

Later on I got some more information. Apparently Robin's death wasn't recent. She passed away on May 31st in the hospital. We didn't know about it because Robin's former boyfriend didn't want anyone to know, because he knew that if people found out that and orphaned minor was living in a house with some man who was neither related to her nor legally her guardian (and some other woman who moved in to Robin's house with him), Child Protective Services would get involved. And as long as Layla lived there with them, they would continue to collect the social security checks that Layla has been receiving since her father's death.

Already I didn't like the idea living with these two people who are complete strangers to me, and the more I have thought about that situation, I become simultaneously more angry with them, and more heartbroken for Layla. They told her not to tell anyone about her mom. Her mother died, and she couldn't talk to anyone about it! She just had to carry on with her life as though nothing had happened. After all she's been through in her life. Her father's death, her mother's drug use and psychosis, her brother's death, and now her mother dies and she is forced to hide it. At a time when she needed love and comfort and support more than anything, she was forced to keep her pain to herself and suffer alone. I can scarcely bare to think about it. It makes me ill just to think that I wasn't there when Layla needed me most. None of us were there. These two people kept Layla isolated from us. We had no idea until their neighbor finally found out what happened today and went straight to see Rachel (my middle-little sister) at work to tell her. I want to hate them. I want to hurt them for what they did. I want to break their noses and punch them in the chest until they can't breath for leaving Layla to suffocate in her anguish. But I can't. I'm too much of a coward to hurt anyone. I'm angry, but I'm too soft to hate. I can't hate them because Layla cares about them. She loved her mother, and she loves these two people, and she does what they say because she's just a good little girl who wants to be loved in return, craves approval and doesn't want to disappoint.

I spent most of the day at work checking my e-mail every chance I got. Checking my phone every couple minutes in case someone had called and I missed it. I was anxious for any update on the situation. I got a few sporadic bits of information throughout the day. Enough to put the picture together and make me fret and rage alternately all day long. Eventually mom called and informed me that she and Rachel had Layla, and they were in the process of filing for Rachel to get custody of her. So as of this moment, Rachel has custody of Layla. Unless something goes wrong with the paperwork or something, I think it's going to stay that way. It sucks that Rachel now has to have the added stress of being the legal guardian for her 14-year-old sister at the age of 24, but I think it will be for the best. Rachel is an amazing person, and I think she relates better to Layla than the rest of us most of the time. I'm sure being with Rachel will help her a lot, but I hope I'll get to see Layla soon. I just want to hug her and let her know how much I love her.

Eventually I got off work, and when I came home Mom, Jess, Eric (my big brother) and Crystal (my sister-in-law) were all there, and we all had a nice long ranting session. Then we went to the store and bought a pile of food and engaged in some intensive stress eating. Now I'm going to go to bed because I have opening shift tomorrow, I'm exhausted, and I have a headache.

Work was dumb today. Not that we were particularly busy, but it was still pretty unpleasant for the most part. To start off, my very first customer of the day was just some guy wanting change, so I got him his change, and then he left really quick before I could get his name. Then my boss comes up and he's like "What was that guy's name again?" and I had to tell him that I didn't know, then he tears into me about how I have no excuse not to get people's names, and he just doesn't know what to do with me, blah blah blah. Then he goes off to his office and comes back a few minutes later with these sheets of paper that he's typed up that have columns that say "Customer Name," "Product Offered," and "Success." Then he tells us all that he wants us to write the name of EVERY CUSTOMER WE HELP, and that we MUST TRY TO SELL EVERY CUSTOMER A BANK PRODUCT (loan, mortgage, checking account, etc.) and we are to write what we tried to sell them next to their name, and then in the last column we're supposed to write if our sale was successful. WHAT THE HELL!? I AM NOT A SALES PERSON!! I NEVER WILL BE!! I'm not going to try to push people in to getting something that they don't want! In order to be successful at sales, you have to push people and manipulate them, and make them think they want whatever it is you're offering. I won't do that. I can't do that. Just the thought of it is enough to make me feel slightly ill. I freaking HATE THIS JOB! I need to get the hell out. As soon as possible. I need to find some other job where there aren't mystery shops, and I don't have to try to sell anyone anything. My odds aren't good, though. The job market here sucks balls. It took me two years to find this job. I don't know what to do. There would probably be more job opportunities if I moved to another town, or another state even, but the thought of being so far away from my family worries me. If someone got sick or hurt, I wouldn't be able to be there for them, and I don't think I could stand that. I don't know. I have to try to figure something out.

In other news, it's flippin' freezing. Literally. It's 10°F outside. And it's supposed to get colder. It sucks.

Alsooo, I took this li'l personality quiz I found on ellensama's journal a while ago.

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( Test Results! )
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I'm gonna' go climb into my warm bed now and try to dream about robots. ~~

Woke up early this morning. Mom made pancakes for us. Rachel came over to go to Kentucky for the funeral with us.

Went outside to find that the stupid drunken neighbors had smashed all but one of our jack-o-lanterns. Two of them in the street, and one on the hood of my car. I can't wait for summer, when all of the retarded college students can get the hell out of my town (and more importantly, out of my bloody neighborhood). I cleaned off the pumpkin guts before we left so they wouldn't damage Jack's paint (I don't think I mentioned this here yet, but I've officially decided that the mustang's name is Jack). Luckily there was no damage. That reminds me, though, I need to call my car insurance company and see if my insurance covers vandalism. Vandalism is extremely likely in my neighborhood. Aside from the smashed pumpkins, there was also a stray cinder block laying in the yard. I guess I'm lucky they didn't throw that on the hood of my car. I'm sure it crossed their minds. >_O

The trip to Kentucky was alright. Uneventful. When we got there we went into dad's room and picked through some of his stuff. I just grabbed a few things that struck a chord with me. A couple little things I'd gotten him for Christmas or Father's Day. We didn't have time to go through his CD's. We'll have to do that another time. I did get daddy's drafting table, though. Of all of my father's possessions, if I could only pick one it would be the drafting table. He was an architect at one time, long before I was born. I used to sit at the drafting table when I was little and play with his drafting tools. It's been in storage for years, though. I hope it hasn't been damaged. I also took all of dad's zippo lighters. I don't know why, I just like zippos. However, none of those lighters will ever light another cigarette as long as they're in my possession.

The funeral... was a disaster. It was the absolute most impersonal funeral I've ever been to in my entire life, and I've been to a hell of a lot of funerals. I mean, I appreciate that Aunt Janie made all of the arrangements for us and everything but... there wasn't even a picture of dad in the church. The most personal thing in the funeral was that the priest read dad's obituary. The whole rest of it was just the preacher being like "It's okay to mourn for *insert name here*, in fact it's good to mourn because it shows that we loved *insert name here*, but do not mourn without hope. Everyone mourns differently. When my mother died blah blah blah, stuff that happened to me, blah blah, mourn, but do not mourn without hope! blah blah it's okay to mourn blah blah eternal life amen." He just basically said the same thing over and over again phrased slightly differently each time, and referenced some things about himself. No personal anecdotes about dad what so ever. It could have been anyone's funeral. When it was over I wanted to storm out the door and never look back. I didn't, though. My aunt worked hard to make all the arrangements, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. And what do I know, maybe that's just how they do funerals in Kentucky. Mom, Eric, Crystal, Jess, and Rachel all seemed to share my sentiments on the matter, though. But then...we're all from Indiana. Maybe we just do things differently. But I feel like we should have a wake or something for dad, so we can honor him properly.

I got through the day, though. It's over. Now I can have a really strong cocktail, go to bed, then wake up tomorrow and have a much better day than today.