LJ 20th Anniversary: Open Topic
Sep. 18th, 2026 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kizzyMy 30-something cake decorator has quit more jobs than I can count on my fingers. It’s one of the many discussions we have on sultry afternoons where the store is dead but we need to do cakes, pastries, and such to fill the display case.
She doesn’t want to work 40 hours, even though she’s been asked by store management multiple times.
“I want to be happy,” she says while twirling a buttercream rose on a nail. “If I go full time I’ll end up hating this job and quitting.”
“Is that why you have so many former jobs?” She looks up at me as I quickly add, “I’m not criticizing.”
“I guess? I need friends wherever I work to make it through the day and, um, well…I didn’t leave on the best terms at my last job because of that.” She pops a plastic lid over the cake she just finished. “I also get bored easily so I’m always afraid of working full time.”
I slam my weight into the double-handed knife to separate frozen brownies. She jumps back as the metal bench shudders and the knife clangs announcing I cut through the brownies as well as their bottom wax backing.
“I get that,” I reply. ”I was afraid of being bored when I was younger, which is why I have what I call ‘restaurant era’. But there comes a time where you have bills to pay and a roof to keep over your head unless…well, I’ve lived at home all my life too but I pay more than half of our bills. I don’t know if that’s what you do.”
“All my money goes to doctors. I go from doctor to doctor asking them to make me happy because everything I’ve tried has failed so far and I don’t know what else to do.”
***
It’s easier to be happy if you have the energy to do the things to be happy.
It’s been roughly 10 years since that conversation. That decorator just up and left without notice. I occasionally wonder if she’s found her bliss. My cynical side says no.
I’m crawling into bed because my back hurts, my feet still ache, and I have to be up in approximately 5-½ hours from now.
I know I used to do physical things, creative things, which brought me great joy when I worked part time. When I first went full time I couldn’t just sit at home on my days off. I had hobbies, interests, rabbit holes to discover. I can’t remember the rabbit holes as I turn off the light. I stare into the dark: what exactly was I interested in back then?
My mind goes blank.
***
I notice a small blue damselfly hovering above my neighbor’s fence as I pull into the driveway. The sunlight bounces off its wings in a gossamer bluish blush. It lands on one of the posts, flickering its wings. I don’t want to exit the car because I don’t want to frighten it by closing the door, so I scoot to the passenger seat for a closer look.
I suddenly remember, as a kid, narrating about this small blue damselfly as though I was hosting a nature show on public television. I start mouthing This is the bluet, a common damselfly common to this geographical area. Like every member of the dragonfly family, they are attracted to fresh water or any kind of moisture. Their life cycle begins and ends with water.
The bluet flutters from its post to two posts from my view. At the same time I hear my husband pulling into the driveway. I ignore him because I’m still mouth narrating this bluet’s short life cycle as it flits toward my neighbor’s lilac bush. I’m still mouth narrating as he calls my name. The bluet flickers from the lilac bush and I lose sight of it.
“Who are you talking to?” my husband asks.
“Did you see that damselfly? It’s gorgeous!”
“No. I’m tired and I’m going in.”
I hear the door slam as I sit there gazing at my neighbor’s house wondering where the damselfly went.
This is the Familiar Bluet, a common small damselfly found throughout much of the US and Canada. My neighborhood was built partly on filled marshland, which accounts for the number of dragon and damselflies visiting every summer. They were one of the many creatures I befriended as a kid.
She doesn’t want to work 40 hours, even though she’s been asked by store management multiple times.
“I want to be happy,” she says while twirling a buttercream rose on a nail. “If I go full time I’ll end up hating this job and quitting.”
“Is that why you have so many former jobs?” She looks up at me as I quickly add, “I’m not criticizing.”
“I guess? I need friends wherever I work to make it through the day and, um, well…I didn’t leave on the best terms at my last job because of that.” She pops a plastic lid over the cake she just finished. “I also get bored easily so I’m always afraid of working full time.”
I slam my weight into the double-handed knife to separate frozen brownies. She jumps back as the metal bench shudders and the knife clangs announcing I cut through the brownies as well as their bottom wax backing.
“I get that,” I reply. ”I was afraid of being bored when I was younger, which is why I have what I call ‘restaurant era’. But there comes a time where you have bills to pay and a roof to keep over your head unless…well, I’ve lived at home all my life too but I pay more than half of our bills. I don’t know if that’s what you do.”
“All my money goes to doctors. I go from doctor to doctor asking them to make me happy because everything I’ve tried has failed so far and I don’t know what else to do.”
It’s easier to be happy if you have the energy to do the things to be happy.
It’s been roughly 10 years since that conversation. That decorator just up and left without notice. I occasionally wonder if she’s found her bliss. My cynical side says no.
I’m crawling into bed because my back hurts, my feet still ache, and I have to be up in approximately 5-½ hours from now.
I know I used to do physical things, creative things, which brought me great joy when I worked part time. When I first went full time I couldn’t just sit at home on my days off. I had hobbies, interests, rabbit holes to discover. I can’t remember the rabbit holes as I turn off the light. I stare into the dark: what exactly was I interested in back then?
My mind goes blank.
I notice a small blue damselfly hovering above my neighbor’s fence as I pull into the driveway. The sunlight bounces off its wings in a gossamer bluish blush. It lands on one of the posts, flickering its wings. I don’t want to exit the car because I don’t want to frighten it by closing the door, so I scoot to the passenger seat for a closer look.
I suddenly remember, as a kid, narrating about this small blue damselfly as though I was hosting a nature show on public television. I start mouthing This is the bluet, a common damselfly common to this geographical area. Like every member of the dragonfly family, they are attracted to fresh water or any kind of moisture. Their life cycle begins and ends with water.
The bluet flutters from its post to two posts from my view. At the same time I hear my husband pulling into the driveway. I ignore him because I’m still mouth narrating this bluet’s short life cycle as it flits toward my neighbor’s lilac bush. I’m still mouth narrating as he calls my name. The bluet flickers from the lilac bush and I lose sight of it.
“Who are you talking to?” my husband asks.
“Did you see that damselfly? It’s gorgeous!”
“No. I’m tired and I’m going in.”
I hear the door slam as I sit there gazing at my neighbor’s house wondering where the damselfly went.
This is the Familiar Bluet, a common small damselfly found throughout much of the US and Canada. My neighborhood was built partly on filled marshland, which accounts for the number of dragon and damselflies visiting every summer. They were one of the many creatures I befriended as a kid.
