I want to defy gravity

To be honest, I should have posted last night to convey the huge-ish joy I had last night at seeing the musical Wicked. I can only really say that it was so good I couldn't go to sleep and I woke up singing the songs in my head.

Then, in a royal adjustment of my good fortune, this morning I had my first day of work. Training. Frustrating, infuriating, I get everything wrong and forget to give my customers their drinks, bad. Never ever work for fast food. Ever.

I'm annoyed to admit that I'm disappointed in getting this summer job. Admittedly I only turned in one application, and because they interviewed me and hired me on the spot, I didn't bother looking for more (summer jobs and I have a horrible past), but in my own little arrogance, I almost think this job is below me. I had sworn ages ago never to work in fast food, and here I am. But after catering for 6.75 an hour and almost spilling scalding hot coffee on some of the most important Christians alive today (and I'm not even kidding about that one), I find fast food disappointing (despite the mandatory raise in pay, thank the Governator), and I find myself wishing for the quietly dignified part time job of retail at the mall, or a bookstore, or even the movie theater.

Some of you know about my past with the name 'Francis.' I've only realized this recently, actually (within the last ten minutes), but I have a horrible time with anybody or anything named Francis. My French teacher for four years in high school was named Francois (variation on Francis) and to this day, if I have a nightmare it's about him and that class. The smell that nearly kicked my suite-mates and I out of our suite (and actually kicked my suite-mates into my room for a week) was named Francis, and to top it all of, the man that I now work for--a man I can hardly understand, so 80% of the time I smile and nod) is named... Francisco. Oh, gosh.

Of course, the Francis thing is completely frivolous and not at all serious, but the summer is turning out to look very, very long. I already want to be back at school, going to chapel every other day (even through the occasional complaints) and sitting in New Testament class, and worrying about papers again.

The thing that makes it tough is that my mother shares my opinion on this new job, but, voices her opinions while I stay silent (except in blogs, of course). I would rather my parents be forcing me to take a job, and be a martyr, than to take a job by choice and find it less than tasteful by not only myself but my parents. Ugh.

It also annoys me that I have this arrogant, superior-even-though-I-get-the-orders-wrong, attitude. Yuck. Talk about annoying, somebody slap me.
Renovation of my room starts as soon as I figure out where I'm going to move all my stuff while it's being destroyed and put back together. Yay. And I need to buy paint. Color suggestions, anyone?