Today was my first-ever training shift at McDonald's...three hours of slavery in the salt-and-grease mines. For some reason though -- I don't know, maybe it's something in the air -- I felt nothing but energetic, happy, and lucky to be workin' for such a fine-and-dandy establishment! Did they sneak some new kind of anti-depressant into the antibacterial soap? Slip Prozac into our complimentary employee soft drinks? I have no idea, but all I know is that for three hours I swept and mopped the floors, emptied the garbage, and crouched on my hands and knees trying to pry discarded cups and lids from underneath the jammed ice machine while the water from said machine leaked and flooded everywhere, and I've never felt better! Maybe it was because, subconsciously, I felt extremely fortunate that I didn't have to tend the piping-hot grills or the deep fryers (also called "vats") during a blistering 25 degree (that's Celsius, mind you) summer day (for Canada, that's a fry-an-egg-on-a-bald-man's-scalp heat). The lobby's cool enough, and at least the ice-machine, flooded though it was, still spewed cold air properly. Or maybe the high I got from being unintentionally flattered (one of the managers mistook my $22 Zellers watch for a Rolex) lasted longer than I thought it would. Either way, McDonald's is definately not the hellhole I expected it to be.
On another note...hot damn! I was a writing fool today! Ever since last summer, I started writing a fantasy novel and actually decided to finish it. The thing is, this was not the first writing vow I had taken. I've written at least half a dozen stories that were promptly abandoned before they reached chapter five, mostly due to either A)I looked back and thought "What the Hell was I thinking?" or B) Had another brilliant, turn-of-the-century, original and unique book idea that I just HAD to develop, so I forgot about what I was working on at the time. Sadly enough, most of those ideas that were the subject for option "B)", usually ended up in "A" soon afterwards. Not this time, however. This time I decided to have a writing assignment for every day. Now, before, I usually only wrote when I felt like it, so there would be hours where I'd write pages and pages, and then weeks where I wouldn't scrawl a word, and that usually led to "B". This time around, I would set a goal: Three pages a day. I would have to write three pages a day, no matter what. Who knew it would help? It turns out that when I force myself to write, I find myself adding more details and rules and structure to the tale. I mean, if I couldn't come up with any valid ideas during the day, I'd fill up my three pages with description, or character growth, or intellectual dialogue. Now, a year later, I'm up to Chapter Six. Don't laugh, I'm not finished the story yet. Already, my manuscript, handwritten on looseleaf (both sides!), is four and a half centimeters thick. Today alone I wrote more than enough, a least six pages' worth, and look at me! I still have enough juice to concoct a thick, descriptive blog entry! I'm on a roll, baby!