My mom left for Albania today. She’ll be vacationing there for the next few weeks.

It was really hard to say goodbye for me. Because even though it is just a short vacation, and even though I am happy that she’s going to enjoy herself, I’m still pretty sad.

Okay, really sad.

Airport goodbyes are hardly pleasant. At all. 

moxie-mako:

(via wolf-tlatoani)

You know what? Thank goodness for tribulations and dull times. Otherwise there wouldn’t be happy.

My little epiphany this morning, about ten minutes after waking up at 10:30AM, rather than 6AM as I do for work, is that you just can’t enjoy something to the fullest unless you’ve suffered without it. Sleep, food, companionship—all things that a comfortable, complacent person takes for granted. I suppose this wasn’t an epiphany per say; I’m sure everyone has heard this concept a bajillion times to the point that it has become cliche, but I really felt it hit home today. The extra sleep, waking up to a quiet empty house and not having to rush out of the door, feeding my grumbling tummy, and now being able to sit here and write this without a care in the word feels like a huge relief.

So I’m going to conclude with this: having to work hard and get emotional scratches and bruises along the way is okay. Feeling like you have no direction is also okay. Even when things go terribly wrong, it will be okay. You charge through it, and once it passes, you catch your breath and relish in the peace will follow.

So today I worked the front desk for the first time. It didn’t go half bad.

At one point a client came in and asked to use our bathroom. On my desk was the ladies’ and men’s bathroom keys, separate. For a moment I was a tad conflicted with which key to give the client. I thought she was a woman, though she had short hair and what looked like men’s clothes on, and seemed masculine. I wasn’t 100 percent sure. But that wasn’t the issue. I mean, I think people should look whatever way they’d like. Freedom of expression and all that jazz, I’m all for it. The main problem was that I didn’t want to hurt the client’s feelings. I mean, what if she was transgender, or simply identified with being male, and somehow, by giving her one key or the other, I was labeling her? Just playing into the same twisted game society has forced on her since forever. I handed her the ladies room key.

She said. “oh, perfect. Thanks.”

I wondered if she was being sarcastic. It didn’t sound like it—it sounded more like relief. 

Maybe she was a he who identified as a she.

Or maybe I just suck at reading people’s feelings, and she really was sarcastic.

Ah, I hope I didn’t hurt her. Him. That human being.

I am more inclined to post on here when I’m on my brother’s itouch. It’s just a lot more fun to type on this. That is all.

Xhensila, out.