These seemed to be the beginnings of a world

Do they even make railroad spikes anymore?

2010-09-19T15:06:00.002-04:00

A lovely fall day. Sunday, always Sunday. The only day I can manage to have the apartment to myself. My roommates are all out in the world, being active, being social. I, however, am sitting with a cup of coffee that I keep topping off and a bowl of cantaloupe chunks that I'm slowly picking at. So I need this alone time, I don't mind that I'm only experiencing the breeze through an open window.

This weather is very much reminding me of Portland, that life I had for a few months a couple of years ago. Two years have passed since then. That feels totally unbelievable. Why does fall always feel so, I don't know, sad? The winding down, I guess. The old memories tucked away in my insides of starting school again. Suddenly the city feels smaller, closed in around me somehow, though nothing has changed except the month. I feel anxious, too, that all of the other things I could be doing with my life are out there, flying by, only I'm not fast enough to grab them.

Listening to the same songs over and over again. The story of my life. Conversations being repeated for the probably 80th time, then specters in my dreams. Self-defeating thoughts, and then a new week starts, hopefully this one will blot out my weekend and propel me forward. For once and for all, out of the nonsense I submit to willingly and continually. Someday I will grow out of all of this. I should get a dog, so I can wake up early and focus on something other than my own, mid-20s-but-somehow-very-adolescent nonsense. Maybe a happy, Phineas Gage-esque accident. maybe a railroad spike through some personality-producing piece of my brain meat. And then everything will change in one quick instant, and I could be someone new.

Bird on a Wire

2010-08-23T01:16:00.000-04:00

Reading an article from the New York Times book blog (“Paper Cuts”, naturally, eye-rollingly). A brief piece, highlighting an author‘s new book, new website, whatever. And it’s 1:06 AM on a Sunday, for crying out loud. I should be asleep, readying myself for a day of investigating tomorrow. So this article is about Jennifer Egan’s website, newly redesigned to represent the concept of her new novel, space and time, blah blah. Interesting, I’m sure, but the rum and coke(s) working through my system throw me into skimming mode. Anyways, one sentence in a pull quote stopped me. It was about how she came to New York in 1987 at the age of 24. One little fact of biography. So I’m one of many. Lying here in my bed, up too late, a few drinks too many deep, at least for a Sunday. Many before, many after. Whatever I’m feeling has been felt before, many times over. So I’m anonymous. Old news. A wrinkle in an endless bolt. I wish the summer would end already, if only to feel like something can change.

I stole this sweater from the costume shop

2010-07-28T14:00:00.004-04:00

Holy shit, a whole year since the last time I wrote here. Almost unbelievable, and somehow totally believable at the same time.

Sitting on my couch. Drinking coffee in the afternoon, browsing for jobs and casually applying for one or two. It's like being Portland again, but instead of the pleasant autumn-y sounds of leaves crunching under bike wheels I'm listening to some jackass outside on my street laying on his horn in an effort to convince a double parked truck to move on. Oddly enough, it's not working.

My birthday is a week and a half away. It coincides with the wedding of a friend of mine, which I will be attending. Of course weddings are the best, but I think this one will throw my own paltry existence, my extended adolescence, intro gross relief. My friend will be getting married to an older man. She will be a step mother. And this is not to say that I wish any of these things for my own life - but how can my life be so drastically dissimilar from hers?

I've been going a little crazy lately. Maybe it's the rain clouds that keep gathering over the city but rolling on before they release any rain. The trees bend for a few minutes and day becomes evening, but then a few minutes later the light returns. A heavy rain, maybe, is what I need. Maybe it's just being young, maybe it's this crazy city. One week you get passed over for a promotion and nothing feels right anymore, when just the week before that you marveled at your own life and how well the pieces were moving. One week you're the double parked truck, driverless and immobile, when just the week before you were the line of taxis behind it, anxious and ready to move ahead and see what was at the next intersection.

Hey remember that time I found a human tooth down on Delancey?

2009-07-18T10:12:00.004-04:00

Excuse me, since when does Pandora have commercials that you need to watch in order to start playing your channels? Am I really this out of touch with the goings on of the internet? Just a few short months ago I was spending my days at coffee shops or in our living room and Pandora was the only reason I got through my GRE studying each day.

Wait. I moved to Portland last August. And it only took this entire year for me to get my life together and feel like more than an old-timey tramp with an old-timey hobo-stick over my shoulder. And here I am, sitting in the living room in my new apartment. Natural light pouring in through our huge windows, a nice morning outside that is undoubtedly already disgustingly humid. I feel like a king in this apartment, with its spacious room and full kitchen. You hear that, New York? A full kitchen, with a FULL-SIZED stove and a dishwasher. And a garbage disposal!

And a room of my own. At the back of the apartment, perfect for when I need to hole up for a few hours and be alone. Which needs to happen more frequently than I would like to admit. In a city of so many people it is just necessary to be alone when I can. Although, it's amazing when you can be in a crowded subway car for thirty minutes, invading the personal space of no less than 5 different people, and still feel completely isolated. I think that everyone in this city has developed the ability to completely avoid eye contact and just pretend that they don't notice each other. It's the only way to survive the commute. Still, it feels pretty lonely.

I was back in the Midwest last weekend, for an unpredicted funeral. Are any funerals really predicted? I watched my two cousins, both in their 30s, straight-face their way through the weekend, accepting condolences and breaking down quietly during the memorial. They both lived within thirty minutes of their parents and saw them frequently. So I made my way through the United check-in area after saying goodbye to my mom and brother and thought I was a fool for wandering so far from home. I must have looked like a silly girl, wiping tears and trying to hide my face while pulling my carry-on through the crowded security line. Any time you have to come to terms with the mortality of the people you love and mourn a loss in such a public place, it's not going to be pretty.

But I'm here now, and I feel happy. At least this morning, I do. It's hard not to when I have a full, busy day ahead of me. Running errands and finding ways to make my home actually feel like home (on the cheap, of course). That's the key - staying busy. Because in my idle moments I still think too much about what I'm doing here and what ever will become of me. So I rush around the city, spend my own money, follow my to-do list like it's a heavenly decree. Just keep moving.

But ain't NYC the greatest? I can't really imagine living anywhere else right now. So I guess that means something, right? Something must be right about what I'm doing if it feels like I've settled in to the just right spot.

2009-02-16T12:17:00.002-05:00

48 hours or so until I'm on a plane and hurtling towards dear old Manhattan. For now, I'm watching Full House (yes!), drinking coffee, doing laundry, and trying desperately to ignore the crescendo of fear and anxiety that is beginning its slow swell. I'm used to being in this particular frame of mind, hovering on the edge of monumental life change. And this time, miraculously, I actually have a plan! I'm not taking a blind leap of faith and moving to a new city with no job prospects. I actually HAVE a job and I plan to stay for the foreseeable future. So how do you like them apples?

I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I will be settling in to a new life. I'm trying to tie up some loose ends- concrete ends, like dentist appointments... but also the more abstract ones. Clearing my mind to make way for new neural connections to be formed and such. Tying off old relationships. Coming to terms. You know, another day in the life. I never have been one for moving on, but I do believe that the time has come to just start over in every possible way.

Half of my mouth is currently numb after having a cavity filled this morning. I have a tiny crush on my dentist... he's young and blond and sort of adorable while hovering over my face with a very long needle filled with local anesthesia. What does this misguided crush say about my taste in men? The fact that a young man whose job description includes inflicting pain on me gets me all riled up while he's poking around my mouth at 9:30 in the morning just speaks volumes. I'm hopeless.

I love the mid-afternoon episode of Jeopardy - particularly when it's the teen tournament. Makes me feel brilliant.

I just discovered bookswim.com - which is Netflix for books. Words cannot express how excited I am to enroll. How exciting!!!

Crickets, you're on in 5

2009-01-28T14:35:00.002-05:00

From The Ephemerist, who lifted it from the Powell's blog:

From the blog at Powell’s Books — it’s the winning word in their OED contest — comes crytoscopophilia: the urge to look through people’s windows as you pass by their houses

Probably one the things I miss the most about New York right now. Walking home from my subway stop at 86th and Lex, then walking the 4 blocks south and 3 or so blocks east to get back to my apartment. Walking the streets of the Upper East Side at dusk, before the rich people in their townhouses have drawn their curtains for the night.

It was kind of amazing (and on certain days, a little soul-crushing) to live in that part of New York and still be so irrevocably removed from it. I will never have money like that. I will be paying off my student loans until I am middle-aged. I say 'paying off' as if I'm currently contributing to that pile of debt. I'm in the middle of a deferment... reason? Income: zero. Awesome.

The snow keeps falling. When I was in Portland in the fall, tempertatures were high and it hardly rained at all. Everyone kept saying what a phenomenon it was that the weather was so nice even in to November. I experienced a damn near 70 degree day in New York, and here I am in Michigan, in what has to be record snow fall. All extremes, all the time.

Things I did yesterday:
*Ventured to Target and bought a pair of stretchy black pants. Because I've been wearing the same ratty pair of sweatpants since I came home for Christmas (yes, I've washed them - but they still make me feel gross). You know, the pair I brought because I would only need one pair, because I was only coming home for six days.

*Attempted to make rice pudding from scratch. In a slow cooker. Slow cookers are supposed to be fool proof! This according to Judy Finlayson, author of a book slow cooker recipes that I found laying around the house. Listen, Judy, don't tell me to put the slow cooker on high and leave it for 4 hours when that is going to turn my delicious rice pudding in to a glob of dessicated rice and crusty cinnamon. This is what a rice pudding fail looks like.

*Further slashed my cooking confidence by making falafel out of a box. It was gross. Out of a box! I should have known.

*Took the online Jeopardy contestant test. For the second time in my life. It was much harder than last time. Little known fact about me: One of my ultimate life goals is to be on a game show. Specifically, a trivia-related game show. But I don't think I'll be hearing from the Jeopardy producers anytime soon.

*Watched the movie "A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints" because it was free through On Demand. It was really good, I would definitely recommend it. Shia Lebouf is in it, which almost made me not watch it. He bugs me, something about the shape of his head. But he did a really good job.

I need a good book to read. I started reading Pillars of the Earth a couple of days ago, simply because it's very lengthy and I knew it would take time to read. But I just cannot get in to that sort of historical fiction. Plus, the author is primarily a mystery writer, and it shows in his lame descriptions of characters. "She had long brown hair and piercing golden eyes that seemed to see in to your soul." Setences of that nature. No thanks.

I just finished a memoir by Joan Didion. I'm kind of feeling that genre right now. Suggestions welcome. (Hey, crickets -- that's your cue to start chirping to demonstrate that no one reads this.)

Yenta hour!

2009-01-23T14:41:00.002-05:00

Watching the Yenta Hour (aka the really awful extra hour of The Today Show aired during the mid-afternoon).

Two young women promoting their book entitled How to Love Like a Hot Girl. One of their claimed objectives is to redefine what a sexy woman is. As they sit with their cleavage pooping out of their low-cut tops, their skirts riding up to expose bare thighs and knee high boots. With too much bronzer and lip gloss, looking totally artificial.

If that isn't redefinition, I just don't know what is. Not.

Two more young woman exploiting the Sex-And-The-City-One-Night-Stands-Are-Empowering meme that is ubiquitous. Can we actually redefine sexy someday? To place more importance on things that matter and that are not fleeting and superficial? Brains over beauty? It's not going to happen, so I'll stop hoping that it ever will. Not in my lifetime, at least.

Luckily these two had Rabbi Shumley sitting next to them to balance them out. Not THAT is a man who knows whats up.

I am going to continue to be annoying by those ladies all day.

Quote of the Day/Beard Lust

2009-01-23T02:05:00.002-05:00

From Wikiquote:

"One can acquire everything in solitude - except character." -Stendhal

Well, great. I've been spending nearly all of my time in solitude for the past 4 months - going on 5. Even when I was in NYC I was alone most of the time. And there's not really an end to this solitude in sight. So, I suppose I'm shaping up to be a character-less little lady who is desirable in every other way? I might take that.

I have an assignment tomorrow! Some purpose! I spent an afternoon grading some French exams for a friend of my mom. $50 bucks for grading tests for a few hours? Yes, please. Side note: our educational system is in dire straits. Or maybe my mom's friend just is not a very good French teacher. But after a semester of French II, some of these students could not correctly identify what sort of tourist attractive Notre Dame is. Some of them actually thought that it was a popular shopping mall. Oy. Well I'm 'doing some filing' for this French teacher - a task that sounds suspisciously vague to me. In my experience, work like this is either extremely simply or unduly complicated.

I got the strangest phone call this evening. It sounded like it could have either been a really good recording or a very lively young man. He assured me that it wasn't a sales call, and that it would only take thiry seconds of my time. He asked if I had gone to a movie theater in the past year, and I said I thought that I had. He asked if I had seen any movies of the "Enchanted", "Bolt", "Wall-E" ilk. I said that I had, not understanding where he was going with all of this. He then went on to say that a movie was coming out soon that didn't have much money to spend on advertising - but that the production company (or whoever) was so sure that me and my family would like it that they would pay me back if I didn't.

I promptly hung up. I have, in my life, adminitered about a bajillion prank calls. As a result, I don't believe a one word that anyone has to say when it is coming from an unknown/unrecognized phone number. Turns out it's a scam - I just googled it. There is no such Velveteen Rabitt movie coming out.

Do people actually fall for these scams? I probably will someday. When I'm all old and out of touch. But not today, John (if that is your real name!) or some phony marketing service! Take your silly, over-emotive voice elsewhere!

"Once" is on. I'm going watch it - in my solitude, thank you very much- and maybe fall asleep. I may not gain character, but I'll gain an earful of pretty love songs. And some quality Glen Hansard time. He's very attractive in a bug-eyed, super tall, bearded way. Which, conviently, is just my type.

But isn't it pretty to think so?

2009-01-17T11:33:00.003-05:00

The snow storm outside is miserable. It's all wind and tiny snowflakes driving down - not even the huge, fluffy snowflakes that make snow storms pretty and tolerable. The temperatures are, supposedly, starting to rise a bit. I'm not buying it. I plan to drink coffee, do the crossword puzzle, and read. All day. Going outside just isn't an option at this point.

I've been home for 3 weeks now. Jesus. I didn't realize that it has already been that long! Luckily I remembered that all of my books are here at my mom's house and not in storage in her friend's basement like the rest of my stuff. I've been spending some quality time traversing the pages of The Journals of John Cheever, pretending that it's summer and that I'm drinking gin. I've emerged from the pit I was in when I first decided to stay in Michigan while I waited to hear back from my new job. I'm trying to take advantage of this time and enjoy my solitude and use my brain a bit.

I think that one of the only reasons I can stand being here at my mom's little house is that it is conveniently located about thirty minutes from the place where I grew up. I am not confronted with flashes of my entire life when I take a short drive. I do not see siblings and parents of old friends, and I am therefore not constantly faced with the fact that everything has changed and life has, in fact, continued on in my absence there. Continued on quite nicely, actually.

I say that because I went back to my high school for the first time since I graduated in 2003. It was a half day for the students, so the school itself was pretty empty. My best friend and I went to keep her mother company, who works in the attendance office now. Which, incidentally, would have saved me quite a bit of trouble if she had been there during my high school career. But, I digress. We played a game of Scrabble in the attendance office, and I excused myself to use the bathroom. I couldn't remember exactly where the nearest bathroom was, which was strange. But when I re-found it, I couldn't believe that it was exactly the same. There were new floors in the hallways (I think), some new lighting, beautifully remodled offices for the administration - but the bathrooms were exactly the same as they had been since probably the 1960s.

I walked past my old locker. I went in to the auditorium where I had spent so much time, now redone and looking absolutely beautiful. I felt at the same time much older but also that I was still the teenager that had spent so much time in that school. Do we ever grow up? Am I ever going to feel as old as my drivers license tells me I am? I think, actually, that I have gotten less mature with age. I have depreciated. I am fairly certain of that. What I wouldn't give for a shred of that innocence and openness that I had at 17. Maybe not.

My paper journal is rapidly filling with sentences and paragraphs I have written before - one of the dangers of coming home again, of being near old friends and old other kinds of people.

I'm freezing. There is snow actually blowing in through the cracks of the door near me. Time to retreat in to bed.

Finally!

2009-01-10T18:03:00.002-05:00

An installment of Modern Love (from The New York Times) that doesn't read like an assignment from my Introduction to Essay Writing course in college in which the class members all competed to see who had the dirtiest secret. This one is cute and humorous and doesn't take itself too seriously. A nice break from form for Modern Love.

The snow is still falling, meaning my plans for the night are almost certainly ruined. Those plans did include trucking out to Royal Oak and drinking moderate to high quantities of beer in a very cold garage, so maybe it's for the best. Or is it?

I guess this is all going to come down to measuring my dedication to beer pong against the treacherous road conditions. Which will, in turn, speak volumes about my willingness to leave the undergraduate mentality behind. Which should have been left behind when I actually graduated in 2007.

I could use a little human interaction, though. Just for sanity's sake. We'll see.

The Miseducation of Dorothy Zbornak

2009-01-08T14:42:00.003-05:00

A thought I had last night:

Have cell phones ruined the romantic gesture?

See, I caved last night. In my state of utter loneliness and boredom during this sabbatical in Michigan, I watched 'The Notebook'. (I did so under the condition that I would not [would NOT, damn it!] get all weepy and nostalgic, which I actually succeeded at.) I switched the channel when it got to the part when they are old at the end, duh, because that part is boring and doesn't have Ryan Gosling in it, and reflected on the movie.

If Allie and Noah had cell phones, the story would not have happened. I mean, I know it didn't actually 'happen' at all, but bear with me. The whole premise of the movie hangs on the plot point of Allie's mom intercepting all of the letters that Noah sent to her after their lovely summer together. They reunite, like, 7 years later, have mind-blowing sex, and then end up together.

Had this story taken place in 2009, Noah and Allie would have texted, facebook messaged, and contacted each other in countless other ways, thus negating their extended period of separation and, probably, their mind-blowing sex that resolved all of their pent up feelings for each other.

The same goes for so many other great love stories!

*Lloyd Dobler would never have held up that boombox. He would have im'ed Diane and sent her a compressed mp# of "In Your Eyes" or something like that.

*Ben Braddock wouldn't have spent so much time searching for Elaine on the campus of her school in "The Graduate" - he would have just called her cell and asked her where she was. (Yeah, "The Graduate" isn't really a great example of a love story, I know.)

I'm spent quite some time building up my tough girl image, sarcastic and unmoved by anything at all. But - here's a secret. I'm a sap. A huge sap. A serious closet romantic, to the nth degree. Where my friends gag and decry their disapproval for overtly romantic gestures and our young friends that are head-over-heels-talking-about-getting-married in love, I quietly melt.

But I've got an image to protect. I'm the tall, mostly awkward, slighty embittered one. Think Dorothy Zbornak (yes, of "The Golden Girls") at 23.

So, does our technology and our tendency to employ any number of communication veins in favor of actual, face to face connection mean that no one will ever hop on a plane to follow me, or play a song outside my window, or spend years wishing they could just talk to me?

Not that I, you know, would want any of those things. Because that would be silly and so, so lame.

PS - I hope I never get so bored/stir-crazy again that I spend time actually analyzing the meaning of "The Notebook." Oh, it's a new low.

Music Journalism Makes Me Happy.

2009-01-04T18:19:00.003-05:00

This article just sort of took my breath away.

I heard "Amelia" by Joni Mitchell on the radio (on the radio!) today. Nothing quite like the Sunday morning acoustic/folk set on 94.7 to make a hungover drive home a little easier. Play me some Joni Mitchell on the radio (without it being a shitty, shitty Counting Crows cover of 'Big Yellow Taxi, please) and I am one happy gal.

Anyways. Beautiful song. Made my day. It's wrong for me to have a girl crush on Joni Mitchell, this much I know - but she's so damn cool, I can't help it.

Fear And Loathing in SE Michigan

2009-01-02T20:03:00.002-05:00

I am decidedly unhappy about the fact that I am still in the midwest.

My job called on December 30th, to give me a wonderful end-of-the-year bit of news. They did not have their budget approved for 2009, making it impossible for me to actually start my job on January (my previously agreed upon first day). And I sure as poop cannot afford to be back in New York for 2-4 weeks without income. So I'm still here, being extremely lazy at my mom's house, just waiting to hear from them. Mid-to-late January was their estimated time frame.

So I'm sitting here on a Friday night, watching 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' and lamenting the fact that 'Revolutionary Road' isn't playing in any movie theater in the metro Detroit area. What gives?! And of course, I was reading an entry on the New York Times' book blog, and saw that a terribly interesting writer is giving a reading in NYC in a couple of days.

Sigh. I will have to content myself with my two stupid little dogs for a couple of weeks and just try not to go crazy here. Outlook: not so good.

The holidays came and went. These past few months have, quite frankly, been a blur - and the holidays were no exception. I drank too much with old friends, and then suddenly it was New Year's Day and I was nestled in to the best spooning situation of my life, between two large boys who I have I known forever and who I love dearly. And here I am now, sleeping 12+ hours a night and feeling very disappointed in the way that 2009 is starting. I should be in New York, about to start a job (finally) and about to have a life of my own (finally)!!! I feel so let down and nearly miserable. But I guess there's no point in that, because I'm stuck here until further notice. It's bad tv from here on out. I don't even have a car to use here! Oh, this is dismal. Even free meals lose their appeal under these conditions.

Ok. I will keep my self pity to myself from now on. Now, I'm going to watch this stupid movie on stupid ABC Family or whatever stupid cable network this is and pine after John Corbett, even though he's balding.

All aboard the misery train!

"Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses" or "Keeping The Faith"

2008-12-17T17:10:00.002-05:00

Long story short: I received, and accepted, a job offer today.

But I'm not here to make a long story short, so off we go.

It started a couple of weeks ago with the most terrible interview in the history of terrible interviews. It could only have gone worse if I vomited all over the table that seperated my three interviewers and myself. I left that interview feeling like an enormous putz, and chalked it up to good, if humbling and mortifying, experience.

I continued my job search to no avail. I learned that the possibility of getting an interview for my dream job was not as big as I had hoped, and would only have a chance after the holidays - if then. Still, I prevailed. After being in New York for a couplde of weeks I knew that I wouldn't be leaving without a fight. I scoured the web, asked anyone I could think of to get in touch with anyone they could think of to help me find work. By the way, I learned that people are very willing to offer help, but not so easy to get a real follow-up from.

I went to a temp agency, and worked a big and facy cosmetics conglomerate in Midtown for two days, at $15.00 an hour. That at least gave me some hope that I would be able to make a little of money while continuing to job hunt. And, incidentally, I learned that I never want to work in the cosmetics or fashion industries in this city. Not that I didn't love working with some seriously cold and bitchy young women for a couple of days. And it was really swell feeling like I was contributing to the ridiculous beauty standards that so many of us feel the need to live up to. But, alas, beggars cannot be choosers. And I will take their shoddy P. Diddy cologne revenues all the way to the bank, so long as I can eat for the next week or so.

I began to lose hope. With the economy as it is, and no more calls for interviews despite the fact that I had applied for about a trillion jobs, I was scared. Scared mostly that I would have to move back home and live with my mom, socializing only with her and her two little dogs. Which wouldn't be too bad, but would probably lose its luster quite quickly. And wow, were my funds running low. I've been unemployed once before, and I wasn't living in the most expensive city ever at that point. I could still get a pitcher of beer at Mitch's in Ann Arbor for three dollars or so on a Friday night. Here it's considered a good deal if you can pay ten dollars for a pitcher. Come on!

So I took a stroll on Monday morning. The weather was incredible - about sixty degrees and sunny. It was almost scary, sort of 'The Day After Tomorrow" -esque. Christmas ten days away and I was sweating while sitting still in the sun? That ain't right. I went to Central Park to visit the Angel of Bethesda, which is the most beautiful part of the park. It sits in the center of the big, tiled terrace, and it has this ancient feel - like it's been sitting there since time began. I sat and pulled out an old piece of paper from my bag in order to write. I just needed to get some stuff of my mind. I sat and wrote, and realized that 2008 is almost over. So I thought about what I really want for 2009. I thought about where I was a year ago and all that I've done since then. And I wrote down everything that I want for myself for the next year. I filled an entire page. And instead of taking it with me I fold it up into a skinny wad, I hopped in to the fountain (no water was in it, it being winter and all), and jammed it into a grout-free crack at the base of the angel.

Great. I just learned from the wikipedia page for the Bethesda Terrace that this site is a sanctuary for one of the characters on the show "Gossip Girl" when she is trouble.

So I left my wishes with the angel, asking for her to do some work on my behalf. Because I was doing what I could, but needed a little help. And lo and behold, I got a job offer today.

I received the call this morning, told the deputy director of personnel that I need to think about it and that I would call them back before the end of business on Friday. I celebrated, thought, called everyone important to me, thought some more, and went exploring. I ended up in Battery Park, leaning over a railing and smoking a ciggarette, staring off at the Statue of Liberty of in the distance. And then I called them back, accepted the offer, and then felt a fantastic feeling of relief.

It may not be my dream job. But it will be good. And the job is 70% writing, so that can't be bad. It may be analytical writing, but it's writing nonetheless. And, as part of my training, I get to do a couple of ride-alongs with the NYPD. Now is not the time to be picky, as far as I can tell. And there really is no telling when I will get another job offer.

So I travel back home to Michigan on the 23rd, and I can't wait. I can go back feel only excitement for this next year. My anxieties about finding a job are totally quelled, and all I have to do is enjoy these next couple of weeks before I start my new job.

I knew something good was coming my way!!! Did I not just write a blog post about that?!?! Come on! Very intuitive. Man, this feels good.

Now, all I have to do is get on Cash Cab, and all of my real New York City goals will be accomplished. Well, that and meet the tall, broad-shouldered blonde man that the psychic in Ann Arbor told me that I would have a wonderful connection with. She also told me that I would end up in southeast California... so... maybe she wasn't so cosmically in tune after all.

An overpriced celebratory beer tonight, perhaps? Nothing like a good winter ale. Mmmmhmmm.

Some Folks Like To Get Away/ Take A Holiday From the Neighborhood

2008-12-08T01:19:00.002-05:00

I have been in New York for a little over two weeks. Though I have no real reason to think this - I think that this week is going to be a good one. I have a feeling that something is going to work out very much in my favor. I think it will be a job. I just have this little nugget of a premonition.

This city is unbelievable. I knew that I was probably going to like it, because it's New York City and it's the most exciting city in the world. But as soon as I got here I felt like it was the right thing to do and that I belonged here. I live on the Upper East Side - which is just as bougeois as it sounds. I took a stroll down Fifth Avenue a few days after arriving here and felt very out of place amongst the ankle-length fur coatted women and fancy designer stores. Luckily I have my tiny apartment to remind me of what my actual position in this city (and this world) is.

I am so close to broke, it's getting a little frightening. My mom is sending me an early Christmas present in the form of a check, which should get here any day. And it KILLS me to have to accept money from her. I hate asking her for anything, particularly when it is a direct result of my failure to have made anything of my life thus far. So maybe that premonition is more a product of wishful thinking than anything else. Or maybe my anxiety levels had reached such a peak that I actually had nowhere to go but in to positive territory. Or, maybe it's a real, honest-to-goodness premonition and it's just on the very verge of coming true.

Food had taken on these mystical properties. It tantalizes me. I can only afford delicacies such as Spaghettios (with meatballs!), so actual food is something that totures me. I spent Thanksgiving dinner with a couple of acquaintances and their friends (an orphan Thanksgiving - because we had all stayed in the city without parents or family) and I ate until I was ill. It took me 3-4 hours to recover from that meal. I was just so excited to have that food spread in front of me and I knew that I would have anything that delectable until Christmas - if then. Also - I learned that I can whip up some pretty tasty garlic mashed potatoes.

So, I'm starving, I'm broke, I have no personal space, I'm jobless... but I'm happy. And PBS is airing a 1979 Billy Joel concert. I have some job leads to follow up on tomorrow, one of which could potentially lead me to a dream job. I've had a few tearful moments of holy-shit-what-was-I-thinking-I'm-going-to-be-unemployed-for-the-rest-of-my-life terror, but they pass quickly. After a particularly humbling interview on Thursday I cried on the subway and felt certain that I would be destined for failure in everything that I do. But I ate some cheap fast food, took a (long) nap, and have tried to keep my spirits up.

And anyway, I happen to really like Spaghettios. So it's all going to be fine.

So I'm going to curl up on this futon, let Billy Joel sing me to sleep, and hopefully wake up to a call from D.J. (dream job!) in the morning requesting that I come in for an interview. I had my phone screening on Wednesday - which I managed to make it through without sounding like a weirdo/dunce.

And I have coffee to look forward to - it's cheap stuff, but I splurged on tasty creamer. I couldn't resist.

Auto Industry Sadness and Zombie Madness

2008-11-20T07:50:00.002-05:00

You know, I'm not too in the know about everything that is happening in our nation these days. It's a sorry admission, to be sure. I just tend to use my internet time reading articles that don't make me upset or freak me out. I'm the kind of gal who gets overwhelmed all to o easily, which then tends to lead to a pressing urge to curl in to a ball atop the nearest cushy surface and go to sleep. So I read personal blogs, and fun info-tainmenty sort of sites. But I thought just now, hey, I'm from Detroit, I need to know what's going on there even if I am hundred of miles away.

Earlier today I skimmed the op-ed that Mitt Romney wrote the encouraged Washington to let Detroit go broke. That idea alone sort of bristled my fur and gave me a very 'don't you talk about my city that way' feeling. Which led to me not really reading the piece entirely, and mostly keeping the phrase "shut up, Romney, you're a jerk" in the front of my mind while his words just passed in front of my eyes. Again, not very responsible of me. But this instinctual hometown pride just doesn't leave room for me to be unbiased.

So I was just reading another article from the NY times, and this quote jumped out at me: "But with the House set to adjourn at the end of Thursday, the automakers were left with only the dimmest of hopes that Congress would provide any assistance this year."

Maybe it's the fact that I haven't slept yet tonight and have not really gotten more than two or three hours of sleep a night this week. My emotions may be a bit overactive at this point. But that quote (and the rest of the article) hit me like knee to the gut. I don't particularly understand how the auto industry got to this point - but I'm sure that Big 3 executives aren't blameless. Regardless, I am scared for what will happen. And that fear is even harder to deal with because I don't even understand where it is coming from. I'm worried for the people in my home state and my relatives who work in the auto industry in a way that I didn't know I was capable of. It's that instinctual fear that you feel when something dear to you, something that is a large part of who you are, is under attack and you are powerless to change the course of events.

Detroit is in the news, and none of it is good. And it feels like I'm watching my mom get clotheslined or something. Overwhelming, indeed.

Did I mention I'm flying to New York in, oh, three hours? I slept last night for probably 4 hours, took an hour nap this afternoon, and now I'm basically running on adrenaline. I have some last minute packing to do, a shower to take, and some sad goodbyes to say. Then it's travelling all day and arriving at my new home looking like a pale-faced zombie and probably feeling as pleasant as one.

Long, long day ahead. Maybe my cab driver from LaGuardia to the Upper East Side will be Ben Bailey of Cash Cab, and I will answer all the questions correctly (naturally) and my money anxieties will be quelled for a couple of weeks.

The Meeting

2008-11-17T01:46:00.003-05:00

So, I'm hopping on another plane and flying to another coast again. Thursday morning. As in a couple days ago. I'm going to New York - a quick decision that I made on this past Thursday. Greener pastures and such. I bought the plane ticket before I had time to second guess myself. It's happening without nearly as much ceremony or crazy anxiety as my move to Portland, which is a good thing. My nerves would not be able to stand up to that whole experience of panicking and crying and freaking out again.

NEW YORK CITY! I am excited beyond words. I can't wait to meet Ryan Adams and sweep him off his feet.

It is 10:50 pm as I write this, and I'm sitting in my basement room nursing a burly hangover. Hungover?! at 11:00 pm?! Yes, indeed. Last night The Native of the New Dawn came through Portland on their tour. After watching them play their brief set (they're supporting the band Fishbone) we headed to a bar to have a going away get together in honor of my impending deaparture. Eventually Tom (drummer of the natives, old friend, and generally the rowdiest man alive) met up with us. We got kicked out of the bar, and while everyone else drove home in a car, Tom and I picked up an 18 pack of PBR and biked home. Biking and carrying an 18 pack are mututally exclusive - meaning that they are two things that cannot occur at the same time and have no common outcomes. The chain fell off my bike and I couldn't get it back on, so we had to walk our bikes. And I got us a teensy bit lost, which is unbelievable now that I'm looking back on it, because we were so close to home.

Once Tom and I finally made it back home, everyone had gone to bed. The Natives pulled up in their van, all of them already asleep save for the driver. Vince (MC of the Natives, new friend, and general sage-like guy) sat on my porch with Tom and I for a bit, whereupon Tom passed out. I fetched a red sharpie, and giggled while Vince drew on all of Tom's exposed skin. Creepiest place to draw on someone while they sleep: their eyelids.

So Tom snored, and Vince and I talked. We smoked cigarettes, we drank some beers, and we just talked. And it was amazing to have that experience, to sit with a stranger on wide porch and have a real conversation. And you can have conversations in those late hours that you can't have at any other time during the day. Because the world is asleep, there are no potential interruptions... it's this totally focused situation and all that matters in those moments is listening and speaking and learning about this other person. He had so much to say and he's lived so much life. And everything he said entwined in ths ribbon of serious heart and warmth, because he's a poet, he translates thoughts and feelings into beautiful rhymes and verses. He kept my feet warm and he really listened to what I had to say. And then the sun was rising, my housemates all woke up to start their days, and the loveliness of that one-on-one experience sort of evaporated in the sunlight and the company of 6 other people. And there I was, drunk at 9:00 in the morning. I went to sleep around 11:00, right around the same time that the Natives rolled on to Seattle.

It's rare to connect with somebody like that. To just take a night and spend it with a new person and know that for a few hours you opened up and were entirely yourself, unabashedly. Or maybe it's not rare. But it's rare for me. So it was a good night. A great night.

I'm left with a few parting questions, to be broadcast out in to the universe:
1. If I got so lost in the streets of Portland last night in a neighborhood that I'm actually pretty familiar with, how am I going to make my way in NYC?
2. How am I going to make my way in NYC at all?
3. Where, oh where will I find the energy to pack all of my belongings up?
4. Why do I find myself needing to finish watching "Undiscovered" online when itis one of the worst movies I have ever seen? Am I really that hard up for means of procrastination?
5. Would it be cruel of me to adopt a tiny dog in NYC and then keep it in my apartment while I'm at work all day? I think that it probably would be, but is it possible that my enormous love for it would make up for that cruelty?

That is all.

Goodbye To All That

2008-11-09T03:12:00.002-05:00

Nary a day goes by that I don't find myself consumed by wondering where I will be after Christmas. I need to make a decision soon. Well, the decision will be made for me, essentially, if I don't have a job by the time I fly back to Michigan for the holidays on December 21st. I will need to have decided by the beginning of December, so that my housemates can find someone else to rent this basement room in my stead. So, it's either (miraculously) get a job here in Portland and stay, or go home and figure out the next step from there.

New York City is an option. I have two very close friends who are really pushing for me to live with them in their apartment. I think that I could really get in to the idea of living in NYC. As I have been considering it more seriously lately, I decided to find the text of Goodbye To All That by Joan Didion, which is probably one of the best descriptions of what it's like to be young and not quite comfortable in your new adult skin. And, of course, it made me want to pack my bags immediately and settle in to a meager existence on the east coast.

When I was younger I always imagined myself living in New York as a young adult. Of course, in those adolescent daydreams I was always the girlfriend of a grungy rockstar, so my vision may have to be slightly adjusted.

And just when I start to think that Portland isn't right for me and that I'm crazy to be out here when I could be living a life that is not much unlike the life I had back in college, I have a great night with a couple of my housemates and I feel like I'm right where I should be. I went to a neighborhood bar last night with Tony and Zack, two of the guys I live with. We drank some beers, played some pool, smoked some cigarettes (yuck, I know) and they ended up giving themselves haircuts. An image: drunk guy bending over, swaying from the many Pabsts just consumed, grabbing a fistful of his own hair and cutting it off with a pair of dull scissors.

I could be happy anywhere. Which closes no doors and does nothing to narrow down my decision. I know it's a bit silly to base major life decisions on something as subjective as "a sign." But signs are pretty much all that I've got going for me at this point. If I get a good job here in the next couple of weeks, I will take it as a sign that I should stay in Portland and see this through. If I get any response from jobs in New York that I have applied/will apply for, then that will be a sign of different portent.

And if I don't hear anything from any employer, then I will take it as a sign that I am forever doomed to live with my mom and talk to her dogs all day, every day.

Sometimes I think about "The Glass Menagerie" by Tenessee Williams, and the character of Laura. I think that's her name. She's the sister of the main character/narrator, and she is the terribly tragic girl who lives at home and feels too shy or scared to continue her classes at the secretary school, so she just walks around all day. She collects beautiful, fragile little glass animals and shuts herself off from the world completely. I know that my fate couldn't really be shared with a character like that, but sometimes it feels like it could.

As long as I refrain from collecting anything or signing up for secretary classes I'm in the clear, right?

I Killed the GRE

2008-11-03T00:02:00.001-05:00

I mean, really. I smoked it.

Call this one a big W for me.

That is all.

This time tomorrow, I'll be a free woman

2008-10-31T03:43:00.002-04:00

I went to a group interview at American Eagle today. We each had to pick out an outfit for the manager who was conducting the interview, and then explain to her why we picked that particular ensemble for her. In a British accent. Then we each had to do our favorite dance move.

This is what my life has come to. Aye carumba.

I take the GRE in less than 12 hours, and holy guacamole, I cannot wait to be done with it. It's not that it's taking up that much time or that it's extremely mentally taxing or anything. I'm just sick of it. So, considering that I haven't worked very hard on it, I'm hoping for at least an 1100 combined score. 1000 is straight up average, so doing a little better than average is fine with me. I like to think that I'm a pretty smart cookie, but we'll see what ETS and the GRE have to say about that come 3:30 tomorrow afternoon when I get my raw scores for the verbal and math sections.

Then, Halloween! I think I plan to sit on my porch, play Scrabble, pass out candy, and have some drinks. Sounds pretty wonderful to me! I'm coming down with a sinusy cold thing, so I won't be celebrating the holiday/the completion of the GRE too heavily. I just hope my symptoms plateau until tomorrow evening. I really don't need to be dealing with a case of faucet-nose while I'm taking a test that could potentially have quite a bit to do with my future acceptance or rejection from grad school programs of my choosing.

Also, I'm re-addicted to 'Lost'. I'm rewatching season 4. Such is life.

Matt Nathanson is coming to a venue that is a few blocks from my home. Maybe I can convince him to come over for a beer?

Nearly November

2008-10-27T16:21:00.004-04:00

I went to a pumpkin patch yesterday. I had never been to a pumpkin patch before. What kind of child of the upper-middle class am I?! I've still never been to an apple orchard, either. I'm going to attribute the lack of seasonal outings like these to the fact that my mom was (and is!) an awesome human being and preferred to spend her single-mother autumn weekends just hanging out at home instead of hauling us out to various patches and orchards. We got our pumpkins from the grocery store, thank you very much, and usually not until a day or two before Halloween, because procrastination is embedded in our family's genetic code.

Did you know that pumpkin stems are covered in a prickly sort of fir? ?I didn't. Until I reached down to pick up a pumpkin and felt like a misbehaving doe, trying to steal a snack from a forbidden farm. Very treacherous.

The pumpkn patch was located on Sauvie Island, a place that made me forget about the little twinges of regret I had felt in the previous days about my move here. I was beginning to feel that it was a massive mistake to move out here, that I was crazy for making such an enormous change without any real plans in place. The unreal beauty of this place made me feel only grateful for this beautiful city that I live in. It made me pause and just appreciate that I am here. The sun was high in the perfect clear sky, with Mt. St. Helen visible to the north, Mt. Hood poking it's pointy cap in to the sky a bit south of that. Nearly impossible to have afternoon like yesterday's and not feel your spirits lift out of whatever funk they were in.

I'm still feeling the warmth from yesterday, but it's also hard not to think about the fact that this Indian Summer can't last much longer. It's nearly November, and the cold rain will set in sooner than later, I think. It's always like that, I guess - qualifying a pleasent present with the assumption that it can't possibly last. But that's ok. Maybe it will last. Maybe it will be a lovely autumn forever, light streaming through yellow leaves and mild breezes breezing by every few minutes.

Benjamin Franklin <3s Internet Porn

2008-10-24T04:06:00.002-04:00

Amazing how I set out to do one thing, and then wind up with my original goal sitting on the far left of my task bar, next to other, much more interesting windows. Do I need to be writing my 'motivational statement' for my Americorps application? Why yes, I do. Am I, once again, easily distracted by EVERYTHING ELSE on the internet? Double yes. I wonder what Benjamin Franklin or T.S. Eliot or Albert Einsteain would have thought if someone had told them that the internet would exist in the future.

See, not only am I distracted by the actual internet - I am distracted by what various historical figures would have thought about the internet. You KNOW that Franklin would have been all about internet porn.

I'm listening to some classical music via Pandora (another mind-blowing corner of the web!) and it makes me feel like I'm doing things in montage in a Jane Austen inspired movie. You know, I'm learning how to make a filigree basket or play the pianoforte so as to impress that dashing fellow (who is probably my second cousin or some other not very distant relation) who moved in to the little cottage on my rolling English property.

I took a Jane Austen course in college. We read every work of Jane Austen's, including the stuff she wrote when she was a tween. I used the word 'read' loosely, as I only really finished one of the assigned novels and survived by taking really good notes ln lecture. Our professor was sort of a kook, in a great, entertaining way. Well, I suppose she was just an enthusiast. A noted scholar, too - I think she wrote the introduction for one of the editions we read in the class. Anyways, she tried her best to bring the texts we studied to life for us by having us doing little activities in class and learned about the social context in which these novels were produced. She had us all (and it was a huge lecture) participate in English country dancing. I will never forget the supreme awkwardness of having to trot around a large room holding hands with my English 313 professor.

So this is my life here in Portland. I stay up late, Charlie (our wonderful catahoula leopard dog/pit bull mix) sometimes snuggles with me in bed, I avoid the very things I tell myself that I must accomplish, and I think about English country dancing.

More studying tomorrow. I'm quite over the GRE, I assure you. At this point I just want to get it over with so that I can evict it from the large cubby it has taken up residence in within my brain. I have better, more interesting things that can occupy that space! Things that involve less math and less inanity!

Ok. I will barrel through this motivational statement, which is supposed to explain what influential life experience of mine sparked my interest in community service. What if I just used up all of my interesting life experience with that bit about English country dancing? (joke.)

Intervista number 3...

2008-10-22T16:37:00.001-04:00

Come on, lucky number 3! I'm off to the mall (ugh) for an interview at Paradise Pen, a fancy shmancy pen store.

I'm in my grown-up clothes, too. So this better be worth it!

Why Doesn't Borders Understand How Much I Love Bookstores?!

2008-10-16T20:13:00.003-04:00

Ain't nothin' like job hunting in the face of the worst job market since the Great Depression.

I felt like I was standing in a bread line today while at a 'job fair' at Borders. They were hiring for seasonal help, for low level retail positions. And there were no less than 100 people waiting in line to see if they passed the initial screening test that was a prerequesite for the position. It was mind blowing. There were people of all types there, just wanting some shitty job at a bookstore. And the majority of them were turned away! I got an interview - which was a little reassuring. At least I know I'm somewhat competitive for a bottom of the barrel job. But they turned me away after that... no second interview for this little lady.

Maybe it doesn't help that I'm a little awkward?

Then, just to make myself feel like a total chump, I headed across the street to the mall and filled out applications at places like American Eagle and The Gap.

American Eagle Manager: 'Why American Eagle?'
Me: 'I've always really liked American Eagle, and the casual, cool style it represents.' (LIE #1)
AEM: 'And tell me a characteristic about yourself that would make me choose you or someone else.'
Me: 'I'm really flexible and easy-going, and I just like to go with the flow and enjoy the work that I do.' (Not entirely false, but hopefully the overcompensatingly enthusiastic tone of voice I had adopted for my informal interview wasn't too transparent.)

Ugh. Am I really at a place in my life where I need to grovel at the feet of lower management at chain stores in order to make a few dollars?!

I even went to Victoria's Secret, which I swore I would never resort to. I worked there for about six months when I was a sophomore in college, and while it wasn't completely hellish or anything, I have a feeling my memory is conveniently failing me and choosing to block out how mind-numbing it was.

I'm feelng really positive about my job prospects, clearly.

I have an interview scheduled at this weird, high-end pen shop for next week, and a group interview at American Eagle in two weeks. Apparently my lame answers were enough to get me an in there!

Needless to say, I do believe I left a sliver of my soul (and my dignity) at that mall, and part of me just wants to buy a pint of cheap whiskey and call it a night.

On a happier note - Obama was quite wonderful in the debate last night. My ears perked up when they began discussing women's stuff like equal pay and abortion, and Obama administered quite a body slam to McCain (in my humble opinion). John McCain was all 'I'm a federalist, abortion should be left up to the states,' and Obama was like "blam, the right to an abortion shouldn't be left up to ANYONE but the woman herself!" and I was like YEEHAW! Which reminds me, I really need to get my absentee ballot. I still have time, contrary to popular belief. And, in all honesty, everytime I remember that I haven't my ballot yet I picture Elizabeth Cady Stanton and feel a wave of gult pass over me for being an irresponsible voter.

I'm going to try to forget about my mall experiences today. It felt pretty terrible to fill out those applications, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. I suppose I'm not above any sort of work at this point, so I can just abandon the idea that I am. I'm going to make some dinner and try to unwind. No dessert for me, though - I filled up on humble pie already.

The GRE is making feel moribund

2008-10-06T23:09:00.002-04:00

Back at Palio, the only place in my general neighborhood where I can even pretend to get anything done. I tried a new locale today - the Starbucks in Sellwood. Get this - you have to pay to access their internet. That is ridiculous! I paid $1.75 for coffee and $2.45 for a yogurt parfait - and they tell me me I have to shell out some more money so that my computer can reach up in to the sky and grab a couple of internet waves? I don't think so. That was enough to send me on my way, back to this lovely place for a little local flavor and FREE wireless.

I started my day at 3:00 this afternoon after getting out of bed at 2:00. Yes, I realize that is ridiculous. I need to work on it, ok?

I'm shuffling through the old files in my brain again. The 'cities I would like to live in' files, the 'jobs I want but am totally unqualified for' files. Maybe it would be crazy to move again in December after moving to Portland in August. But it sort of feel like the right thing for me to do, if only because I like the idea of moving around right now while I'm young and the idea of being a waif is too appealing to pass up.

I do love this city. and the life I'm living is good for now. But it's a little too settled, too adult-feeling. I know that I am technically an adult now and therefore I should be attracted to an adult life. But I've heard too much recently about enjoying your 20s and not trying to hard to be a serious person during them to really settle in to domesticity yet. It's funny, because the very things that I found myself needing an escape from are the things that I miss the most now. I miss the crazy nights and the lifestyle that got me through college. I guess I'm not ready to give it up yet, regardless of whether or not I should be.

I'm thinking about New York City. And the more I think about it, the more I feel like it's the next step for me. Maybe I'm idealizing it now, just like I idealized Portland, especially because I can't get a job here and I have no leads whatsoever. But I know that coming here was necessary. If nothing else, it gave me the opportunity to re-evaluate my plans and have whole lot of time to think.

I need to get a little more studying done, and then I'm going to head next door to the video store to rent "Reality Bites." It's just the angsty, generation X, quarter life crisis-y movie that I need right now.

Life Lessons: from Full House to GRE Math, it's all cheesey

2008-10-02T02:54:00.003-04:00

I took a late evening nap today, the kind that you hope will carry over in to the night and leave you with a seriously augmented night's sleep. Alas, no dice.

I also took a GRE pracitce test today, and got a 670 verbal, 420 math. Those are some noticeably disparate scores, eh? After looking over the answers to the math portion, I realized that I made some pretty careless mistakes. I always feel this intense pressure to finish the sections quickly, and end up having ten of fifteen minutes left over. These practice tests are making my general feelings about this test way better, so I'm glad that I just bought a book that has, like, seven older tests in it.

While riding my bike today, I also realized that a lot of this whole test-taking process is all in your mind. I'm not that bad at math, but when I go in to a practice test thing that, well shucks, I'm going to really stink this one up so I might as well get it over with - that just isn't productive at all. If I just cool out and think happy thoughts and have confidence in the knowledge that I do have, I think it will only help. There's a little life lesson tucked away in this GRE studying, wouldn't you say?

My roommate is currently moving her bed out of our shared basement room. For the month that we have both been in this house, she has slept exactly one night in this room. Which works for, because I paid for half of this room for the month of September and had the room to myself the entire time. This also means that I paid for the full room for October, which is twice what I had anticipated paying for rent when I moved here. Granted, my rent is still just barely over $300, so it's still a fracking bargain. And, after checking my bank accounts, I'm still doing ok.

Maybe I'm spoiled. Does it take a sort of princess to sit on her laurels all day and not bother searching for a job? I guess I'm studying for the GRE so that, in theory, future me can have a job that is meaningful and worth another $50,000 in loans (holy poop). And we all know that a princess wouldn't bother with that sort of thing. Plus she wouldn't have to take out loans in the first place. Maybe I'm just not desperate enough yet. If I needed money immediately, I would probably be more apt to click on the ads on Craig's List for dishwashers and what have you. But I'm not there yet. But there has got to be a job in this town that I am qualified for that doesn't involve washing dishes or making sandwiches. I really don't want to work retail again, but that may be the only option.

I've also been considering the prospect of teaching English aborad. One of the guys I live with has done it, so I should talk with him and get his perspective. There's one problem, though. And I almost can't believe I'm about to say this. But I don't think that I, the cantankerous hermit crab of a girl who would typically prefer to be alone than with most groups of people, would want to go anywhere abroad by myself. I've spent enough time by myself since I moved here to know that meaningful friendships are important to me, and I don't feel like I have many these days. I have one close friend here, and the few others that I have are across the country. I would love to have the experience of teaching abroad, but something like that would be so much more meaningful if I could share it with someone else. (Cue the 'Full House' music when one of the girls learns a valuable lesson about life.)

That being said, I should teach English in Poland. Or Italy, since I already know a decent amount about the Italian language. It would be awesome to go anywhere in Eastern Europe, but it would be tough to be around any Cyrillic language without knowing anything about them. All of the teaching programs say that you don't need to know the language, but I'm dubious.

Just about four weeks to go until I take the GRE. I wonder what would happen to my score if I studied every day? It would go up, presumably. And considering that I've started looking at non-library graduate programs that I'm ultimately less qualified for, my scores are probably going to need to be pretty good.

I wonder just how many people there out in this world wide web that write in their blogs and write in their journals and think that they want to make a living doing it? And what of the aspiring writers who don't write in blogs? What of the countless people who want to be writers? Why do I presume that I could even be a semi-finalist for success in the journalism/writing realm? Well, I guess I would be willing to sign my life and a good deal of future earnings away to a student loan corporation, for one. I have no experience, but I'm trying to get some. I will weasel my way in to Emerson's graduate program in writing and publishing. It may take a few years, but I will get there!

More studying, job searching, and coffee chugging tomorrow. Living the dream.

Oh, heavens no!

2008-09-30T07:17:00.003-04:00

The following exchange happened at a recent talk given by Justice Sandra Day O'Connor in Portland. Two of my housemates skipped the line afterwards to ask her their questions. Despite their liberal leanings, they approached Justice O'Connor to ask their innocent and earnest questions in the hopes of getting some inspiring answers.

Becca: 'So, was there, like, 1 issue that really inspired you to become a Supreme Court Justice? One issue that was really important to you?'
Justice O'Connor: 'Oh, heavens no! They just gave me the job, I didn't even really want it.'

I kid you not, that was her actual answer.
Sandra D, you old bat! Here I was, thinking you were some sort of majorly important woman ready to impart your wisdom. Such passion! It's a good thing that the position of the first female Justice wasn't wasted on someone who actually CARED about politics.

Aye carumba.

Dude, give it up. Your car clearly is not going to start.

2008-09-28T15:47:00.002-04:00

I cannot believe the perfection of the weather today. I'm sitting on our porch, with a (borrowed) laptop balanced on my thighs. Some poor schmuck down the block is trying to get their car started, but the engine won't turn over. It sounds pretty pathetic, like an old, asthmatic dog. The sky is completely cloudless, little bluebirds are chirping and I'd be willing to say that the temperature is hovering somewhere near a perfect seventy degrees. I feel like I'm in Pleasantville.

This weekend was pretty great. I went to my first Portland party, with a keg and everything! I felt like I was home. Lovely that only when I see a keg do I feel like I'm finally in the presence of something familiar. I can't help it! I went to a Big 10 school. I ended up at this party after a day of moping and feeling depressed, somehow devoid of all the warm fuzziness I felt when I last wrote. A couple of people said they were heading out to a party in North Portland, and so I decided to join them - if only because I really wanted a beer. At one point a group of kids started playing flip cup, and I felt this huge surge of competitiveness rise up! But I didn't join the game, because I didn't want to be that weird person at the party who gets way too in to the drinking games even though no one at the party knows them. Nobody likes that guy.

2 more people moved out of the house today. Well, techinically they moved out when I moved in, because I took their place in te basement... but they've been mostly sleeping on our couches for the past month. The two guys were unbelievable goofy and funny, and I'm really going to miss them. One of them is a performance artist who once painted his face like Darth Maul, sat on a stage in nothing but a pair of whitie tighties, drank juice boxes, and called his mom on his cell phone. So. You can imagine that they were pretty goofy guys.

That leaves a total of 6 people living here. And with people seemingly dropping like flies from this place, it only makes me think more about what I'm going to do in December. But I need to not think about that for now and just focus on the task at hand: the GRE. I need to do some math studying today, and I'm going to really try to not get down on myself when I inevitably get the majority of the questions wrong. I just need to keep working at it. But it honestly feels like my brain is resistant to re-learning this stuff and that I may just have to come to terms with the fact that my math score is not going to be good. One time a professor of mine accused me of intellectual laziness, but I can't imagine why.

But really, all I want to be doing right now is watching 'Friday Night Lights.' I finished season one last night, and I just want to watch it all day. I know that's lame. Ha, the other night when the presidential debate was on I was in the midst of my rut and watched the season three premiere of 'Heroes' in my bed while all of my housemates watched the debate in our living room. I know it's not right that I'm just not interested in politics, but I can't help it. I'd rather watch lame television shows in my bed than two politicians split hairs and use pathetic emotional appeals to win over a few more voters. Oh, wait John McCain - did you just mention that you were a prisoner of war? Well gee whiz, I suddenly find your statements on foreign policy more credible. It really grinds my gears.

Ok I need to settle in for at least two hours of some serious math studying. Then, I need to enjoy this beautiful day and do something totally crunchy and Portland-y, like go for a long bike ride or walk to a farmers' market.

"All These Squawking Birds Won't Quit" -The Shins

2008-09-25T15:24:00.003-04:00

Here's the thing. I love coffee shops in Portland. Every few blocks or so there is a perfect little spot nestled in to a city block. The coffee is good, and the atmosphere is great. I just hate listening to other people talk. No, it's more than that. I really cannot stand when a person is squawking away, and their voice resonates at the specific frequency that sets off a series of natural reactions in me. First, I glance in the squawker's general direction. Then I glance again, my face slack but still managing to convey just how annoyed I am. Naturally, these loud-talkers are impervious to my meaningful glances. (Impervious! It's a GRE word.) So I have to turn up the volume on my ipod until it almost hurts me. I guess if I want silence I should go to a library, not a community gathering spot. Ha. I'm such a grump sometimes.

Maybe the grumpiness has something to do with the fact that I didn't sleep a single, solitary, miniscule wink last night. It started with me getting all worked up by the houseguest we had, who is a very good friend of all of my housemates. He is beautiful. He also moved to Montana this morning. But he bummed around our house all day yesterday, and I spent all day trying to be cool in the face of this tall, blonde, scruffy boy. "So... are you moving to Montana for good?" Yeah, I'm subtle like that. And let me tell you, it's tough sharing a house with three couples. They are all lovely, to be sure. But put a newly single blue-eyed hippie boy in front of me after weeks of watching 6 people in love and I'm pretty much not going to be able to help myself. That' s just how it is.

After trying to shoot meaningful glances of another kind at him - specifically the 'don't move to Montana, stay here and fall madly in love with me' kind - I went to bed. But instead of sleeping, I ended up lying awake and have some sort of epiphany about my life. Basically my head suddenly became all abuzz with little bugs of ideas flitting about, knocking in to my skull and making it impossible for me to settle in to sleep. I tossed in my bed until dawn, daydreaming in the dark and realizing that with no ties to any place, I can do anything at all. While that is fairly obvious, when that thought passed over me a sense of freedom followed and is still enveloping me like a big fuzzy sweater or something.

Part of it, actually, came from having this fantastic conversation with the beautiful Montana-bound boy. We sat on the porch and talked about nothing in particular. He told me about some of the jobs he has held, and I thought 'yeah, I want to do that, too.' And it's that easy out here. People talk about doing something, changing their lives or moving away, getting some job abroad or going on an adventure, and they do it. It seems that everyone I talk to here has these great experiences and they plan to have more. Wilderness firefighting, working on fishing boats in Alaska, teaching English in Japan, going to Mexico for 3 weeks to take pictures of the border fence. And it's not that any of those things are necessarily things I want to do (althought I'm reading Moby Dick right now, and it's making fishery work sound pretty appealing). But I could do those things, or I could think of something totally different and try that out for a little bit.

I guess it just comes down to the fact that I am in an almost constant state of rethinking everything about myself and my life. I'm trying to keep my ears and my mind open. But I feel closer in this moment to a sort of greatness than ever before, and I know that this feeling is exactly why I moved away from everything that was familiar to me. Maybe I'm getting a little loopy due to the lack of sleep, a little drunk on my own drowsiness and too easily moved to getting overly emotional. But I feel really happy and really excited, so I'm going to enjoy it.

Um. GRE time. This may call for another cup of coffee. $.50 refill, and perhaps a day old pastry? I must remember that even though I am giddy and hopped up on my own sleep deprivation right now, I'm still unemployed and can't go splurging on fresh pastries.

Also, I got the first of what I'm sure will be many uses out of my rain jacket today! I'm sure my excitement about the rain will fade quickly.

I'm Bad At Math... Just Wanted to Throw That Out There

2008-09-23T18:54:00.001-04:00

I’m supposed to studying for the GRE today. I told myself that I would read about the essay portions – the analytical and… perspective? Is that the other essay type? Shit. I clearly need to open my book. But I’m too distracted. Marge and I are at this lovely little coffee house in this lovely little part of town. She is working from home today, which makes me very happy and lot less lonely. The sky is perfectly clear today, again. It rained this weekend and I thought for sure that the rain was settling in and making itself comfortable for its extended stay throughout fall and winter. But, miraculously, it looks like there is a little bit of this late summer sun left yet.

I went for a long bike ride this morning, about 7 miles. It felt really great, and I think that maybe all of my moroseness and gloom that tended to hang around my like Eeyore’s personal rain cloud may have been the result of a distinct lack of exercise. If all it takes to get me feeling a little happier is a surge of endorphins, then hallelujah. Better to find a simple solution late than never, yes?

Every day my mind changes and different options seem to present themselves. And that is, of course, not a bad thing. But it’s also a bit confounding. To be able to envision myself taking any number of paths is envigorating but terrifying, because I’m back to my old stomping grounds, the land of indecision. But for now, I’m studying my vocab and my math skills (that apparently are only high school level but still manage to be beyond my grasp). And I guess I will go from there.

But Portland is really great, and I don’t regret my decision to come here. Not at all. There are moments when I feel very sad and I miss being comfortable in my own skin like I was when my life had routine and when I knew my way around my own neighborhood. But then there are days like today, when I sit at a perfect little coffeehouse with a beautiful mosaic floor, across from my best friend, making conversation with the two friendly gay men who joined us at our table. The weather is perfect, and I’m not starving, and I have a nice little place to call home for now. That all may change soon, but for now everything is pretty perfect. Now all I need is a source of income.

I could stay in Portland for a while. Or I could move to the coast and live in a little town by the ocean. Or I could go to San Francisco. These are all things that have crossed my mind. But… one thing at a time. I better focus on getting a respectable math score on the stupid GRE before I make any more fantastical life plans.

Greetings from Brooklyn

2008-09-04T17:30:00.001-04:00

So I’m sitting at a coffeehouse in Portland. In my very own neighborhood of Brooklyn. The coffeehouse doesn’t really feel like a coffeehouse, maybe because it’s so well lit, or because it’s right next to a convenience store and has the same sort of plate glass and linoleum feeling. I guess this place serves as a sort of bookstore as well, with some shelves of used books set up in the front half of the shop. I assumed that this place would have wireless internet available, but I guess I assumed incorrectly. I came here with the purpose of trolling the internet for jobs and accomplishing various other tasks via the internet. It’s unnerving how the absence of a wifi connection can throw a wrench in to all of my immediate plans. At the very least, I can drink this coffee. Maybe I’ll continue down the road after this and see what else I can find.

I think I’m settling in nicely here. Everything I see here makes me fall in love with the city a little bit more. I’m happy I came here, more than happy. This is a big change in the way I live, and it’s exactly what I needed. I needed a shake-up. I guess I’m “finding myself,” although I absolutely loathe that phrase. I’m deciding what I want for my life and what I don’t. Not at the moment. But in the scheme of things, that is the point of this phase of my life, isn’t it? Is that the point of all phases of my life? But I feel good here, immediately comfortable. Maybe that’s because of my lovely best friend who is taking the greatest of care to help me adjust. Or because it’s not all that difficult to feel comfortable when you roll out of bed in the late morning and spend the days feeling most responsibility free. But for now, in this in-between sort of place, I feel good. And happy. The sky has been clear since I arrived, I’ve spent some time with some great people. And I couldn’t really ask for much more than that.

Next up, attempting to find some sort of job. It’s hard to persevere through the process, I have learned this before. At this point I’m not too picky about what I will do, partially because there isn’t much that I’m actually qualified for. I could probably stand to be picky, too – because I’m not desperate for money. I am, however, desperate for a way to fill some time. If I work even just 15 hours a week, I will at least be able to meet some new people and stimulate my brain by learning something new.

Speaking of learning something new, the time is drawing near for me to put my money where my stupid mouth is and start studying for the GRE. I want to do it, and I need to if I want to go to grad school – which I do. It sounds easy enough – buy a GRE study, open the book, and study it. Simple. I’m just worried that my lack of discipline is going to be quite a roadblock in this process. I need to create a schedule of some sort. Everyday from noon until 4:00 I study for the GRE. Something like that. I also need to register to take the test, because without a deadline I simply cannot accomplish anything. As long as a commitment is open-ended, I will stand still and let the days pass until I know that I absolutely need to finish the task.

I need to find a way to make the energy and drive that I had on Tuesday last for a couple of more weeks. I woke up on Tuesday and spent the whole day working diligently at searching and applying for jobs. I suppose it is only Thursday. And I think I should be entitled to a few days that are dedicated only to figuring out the little things – such as how to walk to True Brew from my house and learning that they don’t have wireless internet. Lesson learned. Now I can go home and get down to business. I think I will stroll through the neighborhood a little bit more first. Continue to get my bearings.

I wonder how things will be when the rain starts in a few weeks?

Out With The Old

2008-08-24T23:42:00.003-04:00

I could stay in this in-between spot forever. Sitting at my mom's, reading all day and sunning by the lake. I sat on the dock today and felt sweat beading under my clothes and I thought "if I had a gin and tonic this would be the most perfect moment." But alas, my mom was fresh out of gin- and I was too content to get up, anyway.

A sign that my move to Portland is imminent - and that my life there will be real and not just some far off abstraction: I have started looking to see if my favorite bands/singers will be stopping there on their tours. Yes, I will be living in a different city. And will I be able to see Matt Nathanson in my free time? Apparently, yes - he is going there in November! Very exciting.

My time here is dragging on and on. And it's very strange to be filled with such incongruous wants: I want to stay here forever and I want to fast forward to Saturday so I can just get on with it already. Here I am fed, unemployed but not needing a source of income, well-rested (probably overly rested is more accurate) an totally un-obligated in every way. I suppose it would get old. But, I did it for a whole summer back in 2006 and it was pretty great. Admittedly, it was pretty miserable at times. But in hindsight, I mostly remember the books I read and the countless hours spent lounging on our dock and not the lonely days and lonelier nights. Who knew that my Polish skin could even hold a tan like that? It's nice to be back here for a week or two, but any longer would probably toss me in to a vortex of depression. This place has that sort of effect, which is hard to believe with this beautiful view of Lake St. Clair spread out just behind any window here.. But it's very isolating to be out here, away from the place where I grew up and without any human contact other than my mom. Thus, the days stretch on and on.

But. Five whole days and then I'm gone. Maybe for only a few months, maybe longer. Is it a little bit crazy to have no timetable for my own life? More than a little bit crazy? My best friend and I have discussed the possibility of wwoofing after Christmas this year. In Italy, or possibly elsewhere. At which point I would be a bonafide hippie, but it's been a long time coming if we're being honest.

I am wholly satisfied with the choices I have made. I see other people my age (ie my twin brother who has just set out on a path to become a mind-blowingly rich lawyer) who have their upcoming years laid out in front of them and I know that I don't want that. I could be anywhere in the world in just a few months. It's what I've always wanted, and it's about to start. Couldn't really ask for more than that.

Amazing to think that right now some other girls are moving in to my old house in Ann Arbor, that a whole new crop of kids are starting up where I left off. Out with the old, as they say.

Never Trust a Big Butt and a Smile

2008-08-13T17:01:00.004-04:00

There are about a trillion things that I feel like I need to be doing. But when I sit down to actually create a plan of attack, I can't seem to figure out what these trillion things are. My to-do list has very vague bullet points, like 'loan stuff' and 'finish packing,' which really isn't helpful at all. Because there could be countless sub-points under 'finish packing' - such as 'figure out what to do with all of the useless shit I have accumulated' and 'take a moment to think about how in the world I came to own all of these stupid clothes.'

So many of my (ex) co-workers expressed envy at the fact that I will be able to fit all of my earthy possessions in the back of a car. And yeah, it's nice to see that I only own a few boxes worth of stuff. But at the same time... where has all of my money gone? If I had piles of awesome stuff staring back at me at least I would have something to show for small bank account balance. Not to say that my possessions define me, but my possessions are sort of defining me right now.

I have been getting 12 hours of sleep each night this week. It is wonderful. Unnecessary, but absolutely wonderful. I have to take advantage while I can.

My ipod has really been working overtime these days. With no computer to use at home from which to play packing music, and with no music channels on tv ever actually playing music, I have resorted to turning my ipod up to full volume and using the headphones as makeshift speakers. The shuffle option has turned up some real gems, including "Poison" by Bel Biv Devoe.

I'm sitting at the student union, trying to figure out the various parts of my life that can be figured out via the internet. Student loans, flight info, shipping info (because I can't bring my suitcases on the plane for less that $25), cancelling my bi-weekly box of organic fruits and veggies that gets delivered to my house. I don't like this tying up of loose ends. I inevitably feel like I am missing something totally obvious and forgetting something crucial. There is a man plunging a drinking fountain next to me. Things are getting weird here, clearly. I need to leave. I stopped getting anything done quite a while ago.

Possibly off to Chicago tomorrow morning. It is going to be the ultimate game time decision, as my mom will call me when they are leaving to inform me if there is room in the van for me or not. My life is totally out of sorts now anyway, why not throw a last-minute weekend trip to the windy city in to the mix?

2008-08-11T10:55:00.002-04:00

I said the most difficult goodbye this morning. It's comforting to know that all over this little college town there are people saying these terribly sad goodbyes and feeling just as weird about moving on. But, at the same time, watching my roommate's little blue Ford Focus pull out of our parking lot this morning was gut-wrenching. My little buddy is gone, moving to New York City on Tuesday. I'm lucky to have met these girls. I just hope I can get it together and stay in touch with them. It's always so much harder than you think it will be to keep up with old friends.

I don't want to say that I love goodbyes, because that would be a weird thing to say. But it's so nice to have the chance to be total wreck in the presence of people you love while letting them know just how much it's going to such to not be around them all the time. And goodbyes (at least the ones that I have faced so far) are usually paired with moments of great excitement and change.

So now I have to start packing up. I may be taking a little trip to Chicago this week to help move my twin bro in to his new apartment. I should go, if only to keep myself in the running of people who he will take care of when he is an enormously rich lawyer in a few years. And I think that staying around this town all week and just waiting to move out will just get me down.

Just marking time now. I'm not at work. I'm officially jobless. But at least I'm spending my first day as a member of the unemployed in bed watching the olympics. I foresee a nap or two in my immediate future. I do my best work at night, anyway. At the very least, not having to wake up early each morning will give me a chance to get back to my nocturnal roots for a couple of weeks.
Oh! My birthday! It was really great. As far as birthdays go, it was definitely up there. It was a good way to wrap up the summer.

Technically, I'm getting paid to watch the olympics this week because of the vacation days I never used up at work. Technically this is a vacation day. How awesome is that?

2008-08-08T14:51:00.002-04:00

8 people showed up. 2 of them were required to be there (my boss and her assistant), and 1 of them left early. But it was a great crew, and I got to hear my boss say (in reference to her early 20s): "Man, I was drunk all the time! How did I even manage that?"

So, on a scale from 1 to popular, I'd give myself a 6.

They'll miss me when I'm gone and the void that I leave swallows them all whole!

Go West

2008-08-08T10:45:00.002-04:00

Oh, the countless times I have sat at a bar with a karaoke song request slip in hand, desperate to remember the name of the band that does "King of Wishful Thinking." It's by Go West. Not only is it the name of a totally righteous band, it's also my charge in life for now. Go West! And I will!

It's my last day of work. It's my last day of work!!!! And it's my birthday. 08.08.08. You really can't get a much cooler birthday than that. If it were merely my birthday, or merely my last day, I might consider doing a little bit of work-related stuff. But, since it's both, I'm not even pretending to do anything. I think I carried a box of papers that need to be shredded down to the basement earlier. That's the extent of my working today.

Fond farewells and such. There is a goodbye lunch for me today at this really great pizza place. I hope a few people actually show up. The verdict is still out on how many people actually like me here... but I guess I'm about to quantify my popularity. Aside from the people who are on vacation (who I will just assume wouldn't have missed my goodbye lunch for the world if they were in town), there may only be a few people in attendance. Would it be inappropriate to order a beer?

Celebrations tonight will be epic. You know... I'm just thinking about how the only calls I got last night were from ex-boyfriends. My own twin brother didn't even call me! I have come to conclusion that there is a gestation period of about a year after which the boys who dump me realize that I'm actually awesome. But I will take calls/texts from exes over no calls/texts.

I'm not sure why I felt it was necessary to celebrate my birthday last night when I knew that tonight would be the actual celebration. I have a tradition of celebrating my birthday no less than three times, so I guess I might as well keep that up. Many free drinks last night. Many glasses of water at home. Large headache anyway. Something tells me that free pizza in an hour will help.

Holy shit! It's my last day of work.

Good lord, please don't let me cry.

Distraction, thy name is Pandora.com

2008-08-06T11:48:00.002-04:00

One of the librarians just came up to me and said "20 hours." I instantly knew that by this she meant that I have about 20 more work hours left before I am completely done here. I heaved a massive sigh and continued to fill up my water bottle. But I felt a little sad. Which is totally strange and unexpected. A few coworkers have already said goodbye to me. There is a man who I typically only see at staff meetings, and sometimes we bump in to each other in the building. He is really sweet and friendly, and yesterday he apologized for not being able to come to my farewell lunch on Friday. He then said, "Have a really great life." And it was so sincere that it left me fumbling for false words to say that we would keep in touch. Of course we won't keep in touch. But to hear someone say 'have a nice life' and know that you will never see them again is very sad. It's a huge part of life, I suppose. And I should get used to it.

I have much to do between now and 4:30 on Friday. Pandora.com is not helping me get these things done any faster. First of all, it totally slows down the computer in my office. It makes my web browser freeze, and makes it impossible to multi-task with any bit of efficiency. On top of this technical roadblock, it's driving down my morale. Because it's making me realize just how terribly lame my taste in music is. For example, the station that I listen to the most is the one that I built to include music that sounds like Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaleson, and the Indigo Girls. I don't know who this Missy Higgins character is that keeps popping up, but I really like her as well. Show me a girl with a guitar/piano, that's all I really need. Sigh. I created some other stations to make myself feel better, but I don't even listen to them. My Ryan Adams station just sits there. Trust me, I would love to listen to you, Ryan. I'm just a little busy getting emo to sappy singer-songwriters that are pumping pure estrogen through my headphones.

People are moving out, everything is changing. I think that I will probably be poor for the rest of my life, and I came to terms with that during my walk to work this morning. After I spend some time scraping the bottom of the barrel and having wonderful adventures, then I will go to library school and become an administrator and make way too much money. Did you know that the higher-ups make big bucks? I'm talking 6 figures. So I think my plan is totally feasible and totally orginal - go off in to the world and travel until that gets old, then go back to school and then become outrageously wealthy.

I'm almost 23. I know that's not old. But I, personally, have never been that old before. Why does it feel like such a grown-up age to me? I remember being a little girl and thinking I would be married by 23. Ha. That's silly.

Last Monday

2008-08-04T08:56:00.002-04:00

“Intelligence is all well and good, but if you want to unstick your eyelids first thing in the morning you need to forget everything you know.” -Sylvain Trudel, Mercury Under My Tongue

This weekend was filled alternately with too much sleep and with sleeplessness. Leaving me floating somewhere above my body today - not really knowing if I'm completely rested or just very, very tired.

This is my last week of work. Naturally, I will treat it as any other week - meaning I spend most of Monday easing in to work. I have to clean out my office soon. The hardest part about that will be resisting the urge to steal office supplies. Then, I will have to clean out my room and the rest of my house, and then I will being the long process of transplanting my life.

I really, really, really want to work at Powell's in Portland. It's a giant bookstore, and it has a couple of different locations. I applied to two really shitty positions at Powells.com sometime in the past couple of weeks. I just checked, and they have opened up a full time bookseller position at one of the stores. It pays a little over $9 an hour, which sadly isn't much less than I make now. I would be the perfect bookstore employee. How do I convey that in a cover letter? This I will have to work on today.

Something smells real funky in my office right now. I'm hoping it's the garbage that the custodial staff has not removed since the beginning of last week and not me.

Me + Michael Cera = <3

2008-08-01T12:00:00.004-04:00

The kindness of people is astounding me today. A couple of people have, upon learning of my move, stuck their necks out for me and offered whatever help they could give in finding me a job/getting me in touch with people out there. One man offered to call a library contact of his after casually meeting me at a big library function earlier this week. We were introduced, he asked where in the library I worked and I told him, but qualified my response with saying that I'm leaving in a week. He asked where I was going, I said Portland, and he said that he lived there for 10 years, worked at the public library there, and would be happy to get in touch (even make a phone call! That is huge in this everything-accomplished-via-email age!) with his former colleagues and see what he could do.

People helping people. It's just nice!

I took yesterday off of work. I was "taking my mom to a doctor appointment back home." But I was actually spending some time with some old friends, and visiting the movie set downtown for "Youth in Revolt." Some of the streets have been blocked off for a while, so we decided to take a stroll and check it out. Yeah, I saw Michael Cera. I'm pretty sure he winked at me and then fell hopelessly in love with me. But I had to go get breakfast at The Broken Egg, so it was pretty bad timing.

My friends left around noon, which left me the rest of the day to get things done. Which, surprisingly, I did! I finally took my broken monitor in to get fixed, and then took a drive to the recycling center to get rid of some trash. Which made me realize that we have a large amount of stuff that has accumulated in the past 2 years of living in our house. And we will have to go through all of it very soon. Just thinking about it fills me with dread.

Going through motions here for the rest of the day. But I'm sure this weekend will be great, as everyone is trying to squeeze every last bit of collegey raucousness out of these last weeks here. I'm getting to be kind of an expert at it during the last, oh, year and a half that I've been treating as a long goodbye.

My supervillain name: The Polish Predator

2008-07-29T15:33:00.003-04:00

If anything, at least this blog has given me a way to occupy my time at work. This is proving to be ever more important as the days count down until my last day here. Just today I passed on 2 of the biggest tasks of my job to a couple of successors. Which leaves me with basically nothing but empty time on my hands. I started cleaning out my desks today, though. Which is a huge step towards high-tailing it out of here.

It's sad that I am ending things here with one of my employees on such a bad note. Well, maybe it's not sad, because it was really only a matter of time before her unendingly difficult personality pushed me over the edge. (Yet another reason why I am not suited for management.) We have hardly spoke a sentence to each other this week. It's getting kind of tense. Luckily she spends most of her time on a different floor of the building... but I'm beginning to think that she is spending more time down there than usual.

Well, I can't say I'm too upset about it. She did, in so many words, call me an under-qualified racist last week. That was an awkward conversation, let me tell you. It was funny that she was sitting there yelling at me and accusing me of treating her unfairly when I know that she never would raise her voice or make such accusations in the first place with someone older than me. So, naturally, it's been hard to go back to normal ever since then. I can't not take it personally. So maybe I am under-qualified.

Um, in other news, I saw 'The Dark Knight' last night. As expected, it was phenomenal. Batman movies make me feel like a super losery 12 year old boy, but I'm totally fine with that. The first time that badass bat cycle flew out of the front of the bat mobile after it was all wrecked, I almost peed a little and I'm pretty sure I squealed out loud.

I really think they need to bring a female villain in the to mix for the next installment. I'm talking a seriously psychotic, creepy female villain. Catwoman was obviously awesome, but she was more the sexy villain, what with her full body bondage suit, whip, and Michelle Pfeiffer-ness. The Batman movies of the '90s generally sucked - read: Poison Ivy. Who wants a villain whose main concern is environmental affairs? No. Not cool. I don't know much about the comics, but there has GOT to be a badass lady villain in there somewhere. But probably not - I can't imagine there has ever been much room for powerful lady villains (who DON'T end up falling in love with Batman) in the comics.

Sigh. I could do some serious damage as a crazy Batman villain. I'm just a couple of shitty days away from losing it anyway - might as well find a shtick and run with it.

"Are you sure you're moving to Portland?"

2008-07-28T16:05:00.003-04:00

Asked the incredulous psychic I got a reading from on Friday evening.

"Uh, yeah, I bought my one way plane ticket..."

Yeah, it was really reassuring. She told me that Portland will be better than Ann Arbor for me, but that there is another city that I will move to not long after I move to Portland that will be a much better match - somewhere in Southern California. She also told me that I should go back to school to be a librarian. Which my current boss was very happy to hear.

I also am supposedly going to meet a broad-chested, lean, light-haired man with facial hair who will I will have a deep spiritual connection with. This is slated to happen in December. But this was difficult for her to see, because of the clog on one my love chakra. This purple-colored clog is apparently that of addiction. Coincidentally, this purple-colored clog also came for a spontaneous visit on Friday evening, which ended up lasting until Sunday morning. It left me feeling, well, clogged. Just when you think a door is closed, a gale-force wind blows in from the center of the state and leaves that door swinging on it's hinges. So I just have to keep my head on straight. Which is easier now than it ever has been - and that's a welcomed change. But certain words never lose their appeal, and it's hard to be unaffected.

But, no more on that! Because I'll write myself in to a tizzy and before we all know it a 17-year-old version of me will be gushing and bursting at the seams with pure sap.

The countdown begins. It's just about 4:30 now, meaning that I have 9 days of work left. Wow - single digits! Unreal.

'It is always late summer here.'

2008-07-24T08:20:00.003-04:00

Something I will miss dearly about Ann Arbor is the lovely blend of coffee that you see to the left of this paragraph. This coffee has gotten me through many a morning, particularly this year. Aside from this particular coffee, Espresso Royale is the best coffee shop ever. They have $2 lattes on Wednesdays, and when they pair up with Ann Arbor's awesome local radio station for 'Martin Bandyke's Caffeinated Comfort Zone' and the cheesiest/most rad local DJ goes and sits at various Espresso Royale locations in town and broadcasts... well, it's fantastic.

Sadly, they didn't have my favorite coffee or my favorite little pre-wrapped vegan granola bar thingees today. So already my morning kind of sucks.

I can't wait to have a job where I am not in charge of anyone else. I tell you now, I am not cut out for supervision. This is something that I always suspected. I am far too independent (and youthfully selfish) to think of anyone else when making decisions or doing anything, really. So excuse me, lady that I supervise, if I decide that cutting two sizes of scrap paper is completely unnecessary and mind-numbingly inefficient and I therefore decide to cut only one size from now on. I didn't realize that this detail was such a crucial part of your life and that you would get personally offended by my decision. No, you're right, I really needed to run that by you beforehand. Are you kidding me?! Is it any wonder that I want to get out of here? I'm starting to feel that this extra week I decided to work strictly to make money just isn't going to be worth it when compared to the fragment of my soul that will die while I wait for August 8th to roll around. I guess it's not that bad. But that's probably only because the end is in sight and when there are people (one person in particular, actually) squawking at me, it's in one ear and swiftly out the other.

Because in the face of this summer and my near future, it's getting pretty impossible for me to get too upset about anything. To be sure, I have moments of serious doubt. I had one just this morning while I rode the staff elevator up to the third floor and wondered if maybe I should start thinking seriously about a serious full-time job in Portland so that I can possibly save enough money to travel come January. But what kind of job? What, sweet mother of pearl, are my transferable skills, and how will I find a job that won't make me feel like I'm ruining the planet or scamming the general public?

I need to cast off my guilt complex for the next two weeks and start to feel ok about leaving the staff here to figure out what to do when I leave. Of course they will get by - it's a library and it's a library that is about to shut down, at that. They'll figure out how to function without me. I will, of course, take steps to make the transition easy, but I am by no means going to spend too much time worrying about it.

Yesterday, after getting reamed out and accused of being a racist by my cantankerous supervisee, I headed home and got in to my bed (my ultimate defense mechanism and retreat). I scrolled through my phone to find someone, anyone!, to call and coax cheer from. I called a friend in Portland, because I figured there was no time like the present to expose my emotional messiness. We chatted. It helped - a lot, actually. And he read me this poem, which is even more beautiful now that I read it again:

Moment Vanishing

by Elizabeth Spires

Now, in the quietude of evening, the dove comes.
It does not flash its feathers, does not
make a sound, but feeds on what the finches
leave behind. How little it needs.
A few hard seeds. A drop of water.

It is late summer. It is always
late summer here. The air is hot and dry.
Brown leaves lie like hands in the yard.
There is no place to turn. No place to stop.
We are hurried along, pushed farther into our lives.

Moments are vanishing all over the earth
as bombs explode, the victim is hooded,
great populations scatter on endless dust roads.
It is too much. We avert our eyes.
We wait like children for the coming of the dove.

And if I were allowed a question,
one question, of the evening dove
who asks for nothing, whose pleasure
is a few small seeds, whose heart I covet,
I would ask, O what will I become?

Lovely, right? I think I will be in good hands out there. Anyone who has the good sense to read me a poem when I'm sad is someone I can get behind. Brown leaves lie like hands in the yard. Come on! That's beautiful.

On the phone he told me to try not to expect too much from my move. To just come out here, relax, and maybe figure some stuff out about myself. It's hard not to expect that this move will be the decision of my life - and that suddenly everything will make sense once I step off the plane and touch Oregonian soil. But. I suppose that nothing is ever that simple, is it?

I will try to keep my head up today. And if it falls, I will think to the 8th, and then to the 30th, and then I will read that poem again.

2008-07-23T12:15:00.002-04:00

From a New York Times article:

In a report titled “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Enhancement in Self-Recognition,” which appears online in The Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, Nicholas Epley and Erin Whitchurch described experiments in which people were asked to identify pictures of themselves amid a lineup of distracter faces. Participants identified their personal portraits significantly quicker when their faces were computer enhanced to be 20 percent more attractive. They were also likelier, when presented with images of themselves made prettier, homelier or left untouched, to call the enhanced image their genuine, unairbrushed face. Such internalized photoshoppery is not simply the result of an all-purpose preference for prettiness: when asked to identify images of strangers in subsequent rounds of testing, participants were best at spotting the unenhanced faces.

Ha! That is fantastic. We all think that we are better looking than we actually are! Not only do we delude ourselves in to thinking we ourselves are hot, we refuse to do the same for others.

So basically, I'm prettier than you.

I left my dignity at a hotel in Cuyahoga Falls and all I got was a lousy hangover

2008-07-22T09:50:00.002-04:00

Many sleepless nights lately. If not actually sleepless, then very sleep sparse. Or something. My brain must know the difference between when I'm supposed to be sleeping and when I'm not. And my brain must be somewhat of a night owl. Because I have no problem dozing off for a few minutes after work when I want to be awake watching Jeopardy... but when it comes to falling asleep at bedtime, I have a terribly hard time.

This weekend was fantastic. I went to that wedding in Ohio, and it ended up being really fun. I knew it would be, because our respective dates are 2 ridiculous human beings and probably 2 of the funniest people I have ever met. Our table was right next to the bar, too. The reception was fun, but the after party was better... romping around a really nice hotel and making friends with the absolutely shit-canned bride and thoroughly enjoying the company of my date. He was a negative, hateful bastard - and I mean that in a good way.

We all spent Friday night at his house in Ohio, and it was one of the most incredible houses I have seen in real life. It was a ranch house, which I usually hate for some reason... but this one was all windy and wrapped around the property, and it had a huge deck in the back and this awesome furnished treehouse that they built for his dad because he's an insomniac and needed a place to hang out at night when he can't sleep. (I need one of those.) To get to the treehouse we had to cross over this little bridge that went over a stream and climb up a set of rock steps. It totally blew my mind! And there were trees behind the house and all of this space... it was really beautiful there. Akron, Ohio! Who knew?

The wedding on Saturday was nice. You could tell that the couple was really excited to be getting married, and it was really cute. Of course, I can't walk away from a wedding ceremony without a hearty case of the creeps, but I appreciated the sentiment. And I think it's impossible for a girl my age to go to a wedding without thinking of what her own wedding could possibly be like, and so that's a mindfreak in itself. I found myself thinking about speech acts during the ceremony. How saying the words "I do" really don't mean anything at all. They are just words that we have all collectively decided to give an enormous amount of significance to. When a couple stands before a church full of people they already have their marriage license. So, they are really just standing and getting stared at while they repeat some words that add up to a lot of promises that are most likely impossible to keep.

Instead of thinking nice things about what I was witnessing, I was thinking about linguistics and the improbability of their lives going as they planned in that moment. So, that's pretty telling.

All of that pessimism was out the window, though, when I was on the tail end of the reception after milking the open bar for all it was worth. I was clinging to my date as though I had known him for years (obnoxiously, I'm sure), I was hugging the bride... I was in the best mood. What's that Hemingway quote about a drunk man's words being a sober man's thoughts? I must be thinking sweetly affectionate and warm thoughts and then am only able to bring them out after numerous drinks. Sad, eh? But... what's a girl to do. So I'm a little hardened during the day. At least I'm still a sweet gal after dark.

Anyways. I need to get to work.

2008-07-17T14:54:00.002-04:00

It's out in the open now - I've come out of the 'I'm quitting my job' closet. My boss announced it at a staff meeting today. I was expecting negativity from my coworkers about my decision. I was expecting them to scoff at my lack of plans. But they were all genuinely excited for me and very congratulatory. So that, in turn, revved up my own excitement... and I have not done much of anything today. It's just so hard to keep my feet on the ground and my head in the office right now.
In other news, I have the grossest spider bite on my leg. It is incredibly painful, and red, and swollen, and starting to resemble a freaky third nipple. I'm hoping that it's just a spider bite and not bite from some disgusting mutated creature that lives in the filthy pool I jumped in to when I was about 32 sheets to the wind on Saturday. The only reason I know that said pool is disgusting is because I went back the next morning to see if I had left my sweater poolside. The image of that murky water in the daylight has continued to give me the heebie-jeebies all week.

I started applying for jobs this week. I don't know if anything will come of it... but it feels good to at least have my stuff out there somewhere (even if it is just on the web).

The anxiety has kicked in, though. I can't sleep at night. All I can think about is all the things I have to wrap up here before I leave, all of the potential outcomes for my life in Portland, all of the minor details that I need to take care of. Why is it that the little things, like closing my bank account here or scheduling a dentist appointment, seem to stress me out the most?

This time last year I was interviewing for this job. And here I am, gettin' outta Dodge.

2008-07-15T09:42:00.002-04:00

What if I made a terrible decision? I have slowly started telling people at work that I'm leaving soon. But there are some that I can't bring myself to tell. How do I explain that no, I don't have a plan or a job lined up, yeah, I'm just sort of going there? It sounds so silly. It sounds like impetuous youth. It sounds like I hopped on the emotions train (that one of my mom's original sayings) and I'm about to ride it all the way across the country.

But seriously. What if I'm steering myself in a direction that I really shouldn't be going? Ah, the unanswerable what-ifs. Always on my mind.

Emancipation Proclamation

2008-07-10T10:46:00.002-04:00

I am moments away from putting in my notice. That phrase doesn't actually mean anything, does it? Well, tell that to the flock of butterflies in my stomach. It'll go a little something like this,

"I have made the decision to move. I want my last day to be August 8th. Until that day, you can expect my productivity to drop off sharply because I will merely be phoning it in."

I'll leave that last bit out, I suppose.

Here goes!

2008-07-09T15:49:00.003-04:00

I bought my plane ticket to Portland a couple of hours ago. One way, please - seat by the window. It was quite a rush, a powerful exhale after so many months of breathing in and holding it, avoiding any decision.

August 30th. It's still a ways off, about a month and a half. But I have a feeling time will fly and I'll be winging my way to the Pacific Northwest sooner than I realize.

One foot out the door

2008-07-08T12:55:00.003-04:00

I am enitrely preoccupied today. Each time I speak to my mom or my best friend out in Portland, the plans to move get more and more concrete and leave me unable to think about anything else. And not only am I thinking about the details of the actual move, I am thinking about huge abstract things like My Future. A few times a year I find myself researching graduate programs in writing and then I consequently find myself getting excited and picturing myself nestled away in a writing workshop under the tutelage of my mentor, Jeffrey Eugenides (at Princeton) or Amy Hempel (at Sarah Lawrence) or Michael Byers (sigh) (at University of Michigan). Naturally, all of my would-be mentors happen to teach at ridiculously fantastic schools. Schools that would require one to have gobs of talent/money/drive. Schools that require three letters of recommendation. See, there are shortcomings both big and small when it comes to the idea of applying to these places.

Not to mention that I haven't written anything (except for silly pages in my journal and silly entries here) in over a year. It's delusions of grandeur, I'm afraid, thinking that I could even contend with other applicants. But I don't know... I took a couple of writing courses in my undergraduate career, and plenty of people who took themselves very seriously as writers weren't nearly as good as they thought they were. What I wouldn't give for an ounce of their unfounded confidence to replace my self-doubt. Why can't I just be one of the blissfully unaware ignoramuses? Ignorami?

At least it gives me something to do at work while I piss away these last days. I counted earlier - 23 days left. That is hardly any at all. And while thinking of how much I will need to do once I announce that my last day will, in fact, be August 8th is slightly overwhelming... this moment of finally feeling excited about where I'm going is really nice. And maybe the move to Portland will be big enough to shake me out of my terror and really go for this completely unrealistic dream of getting an MFA in writing. Maybe.

Or maybe I should stop wasting time on these daydreams when I know that they will never happen and focus on finding a job in Portland so that I can survive. I have enough money saved up to last for a couple of months out there, but if that money runs out I will be back where I started. And that needs to not happen.

I'm reading Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris right now. It's about a workplace. In it, there is a brief mention of a character who would get to work early, photocopy every page of a novel, and then sit at his desk and read through 300 pages in a day of what looked like legitimate work documents. That is so brilliant! That would be a much more productive use of my time than what I'm doing today, that's for sure.

My Name is Richard Henry Lee, Virginia is My Home

2008-07-03T13:17:00.003-04:00

It's a damn shame that I lost my necklace whose pendant depicts the signing of the Declaration of Independence. There is only one time during the year that it is actually relevant. Every other day of the year it only serves to demonstrate how weird I am. I'm still reeling from the loss of that necklace.

You know what else is a damn shame? That "1776" will only be aired at 11:00 pm tomorrow. On TCM. It used to be played on basic cable, during the prime it's-too-hot-outside-and-the-fireworks-won't-start-for-a-few-hours-anyway movie watching hours of the afternoon. What a great idea for a musical! To depict the events of the days leading up to July 4th, 1776 - all through song and dance! Brilliant. But since I will be with a group of people I don't know this weekend, it would probably be wise to keep my love for this movie under wraps.

I sat down for an impromptu meeting with my new supervisor today. He seems like a good guy, like he knows how to manage people and how to get things done. I did tell him that I will probably be leaving mid-August. I like to temper my own declarations of independence to the higher-ups with a dash of uncertainty. I had been planning to wait a little longer to tell him - the only reason I told him today was because I was trying to avoid answering his "what do you want to do with your life" question. After mumbling "I don't know" quietly and awkwardly a couple of times, he asked me "well what do you know?" and the only thing I could think to say was that I was possibly thinking about maybe moving in August.

He then went on to offer free counseling. Which was odd, because I don't know this man and we have had maybe 4 conversations. He asked me what I would do if I won the lottery, a question that I dread - even more so when near-strangers ask it.

Because something feels wrong to me about naming my ideas about my own life. Nothing I say outloud could do justice to the convictions I hold in my mind and in my heart about the kind of person I want to be. And maybe that's just insecurity, not wanting to really speak up about who I am. I tried to tell him about going to Guatemala and how it made me realize that I want to do something good with my life, something that benefits other people. But of course, I said it in a way that made hardly any sense at all and just sounded dumb. I don't know how to find the words to express all that I feel.

I talked to my mom on the phone last night... and it's getting hard to keep my head up in the face of doubts that have been coming my way. And it's not just her (and she's my mom, of course she's worried for my well-being) but it's many others. Is it so wrong to want to do something different than what everyone else is doing? Do I really have to follow the same path as everyone else in order be considered successful and smart? I think that is really silly. I'm not worried. At all. The only thing that makes me worry is when other people get to thinking about my future and then tell me all about the misfortune they foresee. They plant their little, ugly seeds in my head and I feel that fear creep up on me.

I need to buy a plane ticket. But, I will save that for after the holiday weekend. I will be heading out of town this weekend, for road trip number 2 of 3. It will be a long drive tonight... about 6.5 hours. And I will be visiting the hometown of a friend, which will be great. And if I get to catch even a few minutes of "1776," well then we can call the trip a success.

2008-06-30T09:44:00.002-04:00

I felt a little crazy this morning. My alarm went off at the time I had set it for, which was somewhere around 6:30 am. But something about the light coming through my window, or something, made me feel very confused as to what time it really was. I was convinced that I had slept through work, that my clock was wrong and that it was somehow mid-morning. And then I got to work 15 minutes early, which made no sense to me either.

I got my nose pierced on a whim yesterday. I went in to a piercing studio after lunch to inquire about prices, and I walked out with a shiny piece of metal (and some sort of yellowy colored stone) through my left nostril. It hurts today... mostly because my nostrils flare pretty much constantly. Someone once told me it makes me look like a friendly dragon. While that is a comparison that is awesome, the flaring is not conducive to a painless healing process.

I have to conduct a couple of interviews today. Yet another aspect of this job that I feel terribly unqualified to perform. I don't know what exactly it is that I think would qualify me for these tasks. Maybe it's just that I still feel like an awkward thirteen year old trying to get through the grim days of early adolescence.

My ears are still ringing from the band we saw on Saturday night. And my mind is still spinning from the details I ironed out regarding my upcoming move. I will not be taking a car (I think), I will go home to my mom's house for a few days before actually going west, I will stay at least until Christmas.

I need to pick a last day for work. I might just work until Friday, August 8th. Which is my birthday. I think that would be a nice, dramatic way to round out my 22nd year and begin my 23rd. A real, honest to goodness fresh start. I think I like that.

The Upside of Being Entirely Aimless

2008-06-27T08:51:00.003-04:00

I forgot to bring anything for lunch today. I have all of this delicious produce at home and I keep forgetting to use it. It's going to wither away to goo and I will have wasted my, well I was going to say hard-earned money... but that wouldn't really be accurate.

This week, though, I feel like I worked pretty hard. Justin and I have been working on this project that will eventually make it so that there is only one print copy of any journal on campus so long as there is online access to said journal. Which, in theory, is an important project because it will free up a great deal of much needed shelf space. But it means that we have to get rid of large quantities of these duplicated journals. So Justin and I were at other libraries this week gathering carts full of volumes to eventually ship off to other libraries. I got off pretty easy because he did most of the heavy lifting, and it was his car that had to really bear the brunt. Ah, the sound of an undercarriage scraping on cement. It was fun, though. I'm glad I volunteered him for this job and not anyone else.

It's Friday, and I'm very excited to sleep in tomorrow. That was one of the only things that motivated me to get out of bed this morning, actually. I thought of how I will be able to sleep in as late as I want tomorrow, and that fortified me enough to face another day at work.

What will I do in Portland? Where will I go in December when MG's job ends and she will potentially leave Portland? Will I ever stay anywhere longer than 6 months?

I'll go to Italy. I'll work in a restaurant. When I was in Guatemala we went to a beautiful little restaurant on our first night. We were staying in Antigua, the gringo tourist hot spot of the country. We sat down on the open-air patio and an equally beautiful, young American man came over and handed us menus. He asked, "how's your Spanish?" and laughed when we said all said variations of "extremely shitty." In that moment I created an entire back story for this guy. He dropped out of college, moved to South America, fell in love with a lovely dark-haired girl, had his heart broken by that lovely dark-haired girl, and was traveling around the continent, never staying in one place for too long, trying to forget about her.

So maybe that will be me. I suppose that anything is possible when you don't have any plans. That's the upside of being entirely aimless. One more month here, and I don't know how I'll stand it. I'm starting to get weird pangs of finality, like during the last few weeks of high school. That knowledge that you will never see some of these people again, that you will never take this familiar walk down the street again.

But, as I said, it's Friday. The weekend is spread out before me. I said "it's Friday" to a co-worker a little while ago, in a very cheesey, co-workerly, TGIF sort of way. He then said something about how it's dangerous to always wish it's Friday. He said something about the 'dangers of wishing my life away.' Well, Gary, I'll be on the west coast in about a month and a half, doing exactly what I wish. So don't worry about me. And I'm not taking my job too seriously until then, so don't worry that I'm working to hard or not enjoying the time I have left here. No worries on that front.

2008-06-23T12:51:00.002-04:00

I didn't try wakeboarding, but I DID watch my housemate swallow a live minnow.

Most definitely a great weekend. The weather could not have been any better on Saturday. It was perfect for sitting in the sun - clear blue sky, but a good breeze and not too warm. We were all feeling a little under the weather in the morning, for no particular reason and definitely not because of drinking. But I was fine after my nap on the dock.

In the afternoon we drove the boat over to the little nook of the lake that usually is a beach, but the water level was really high. We pulled the boat up on the the ex-beach and went for a swim there. There was this crazy drop off there, where it went from being about 2 feet deep to about 30 feet, like walking off of a cliff. And there will thousands of minnows swimming all around us, which was pretty creepy.

One of the guys really wanted to catch one, and he was pretty intent on making it happen. Jess said that if he caught on she would eat it. Clearly, she had no faith in his minnow catching abilities. He had the smarts to use a Dorito bag as a net, and you have to respect that. So he caught one after about 30 minutes of total concentration, and she followed through with her end of the deal. The minnow was pretty small... but still, it was pretty righteous to see her slurp a minnow out of her hands, swallow it, and then wash it down with a beer.

The lake was beautiful. There is no place like Northern Michigan. Granted, I haven't been to that many places. But the seclusion and the acres and acres of trees... I don't know. I think that's where I need to be. Or someplace like it, at least. Living in a little house on a secluded lake, knowing everyone in my little town, listening to country music. I used to think I was made for living in a big city, but I'm not sure anymore.

The Summer Solstice was this weekend. I wrote a short story for a class that took place on the Summer Solstice. Actually, it also took place in Northern Michigan, on a lake right next door to where I was. Where I had never been, but the feeling of Northern Michigan is so distinct to me, that I guess I didn't feel like I needed to have been there to get it right. So it's officially summer now. I guess I couldn't have started the season in a better way.

The days are counting down. We're all starting to talk about getting our security deposit back (or not, as the case may be) and it's starting to feel very real that I will be leaving here soon.

It's almost 1:30, so that's good news. And I've actually been doing work today!

2008-06-20T10:54:00.002-04:00

I got my first speeding ticket yesterday. I was driving my roommate to the airport, using her car. And you know how some cars are just easy to speed in? Her adorable little Ford Focus is just meant to be zipped around in. I saw the cop and braked a little bit, and he still clocked me at 83 mph in a 70 mph zone. Oooooops. He wrote the ticket for only 5 over the limit though, which was very nice of him. That means no points on my license, which is a bonus. But it still means a $100 ticket.

As I lay in my bed last night trying to sleep, I got to thinking about cops. Isn't it a little funny that we hire these people to make us pay fairly sizable chunks of money if we don't follow the rules? I remember sitting in our minibus driving through the streets of Guatemala where there wasn't so much as a stop sign. It was a little crazy, sure. But they seemed to get along just fine without highway patrolmen lurking behind obstructions. Crime and punishment, man.

It's Friday, once again. And I haven't had ANY coffee today. That's how high my spirits are! We leave for Pellston, MI at 7:00 this evening. The waiting for a little vacation is always the hardest.

I don't ever want to be a supervisor again. I know that for sure. As I search for a job in the future, I don't want to be in charge of anyone. Because when it's good, it's good. When you have smart, rational, sociable people working under you, it's all gravy. But when it's bad... it's bad. Really bad. I'm talking awkward interactions at every turn and general discomfort. And I'm not nearly big-hearted enough or outgoing enough to overcome this sort of thing.

Here's to sunburns and drinks on the beach this weekend.

Fake crab meat

2008-06-19T12:39:00.002-04:00

I just had sushi. I figured that imitation crab meat was made of, like, soy - so it would definitely fall in line with my new vegetarianism. Turns out that imitation crab meat is actually made of pollock, a mildly fishy tasting fish, which apparently makes it ideal for sushi. Not cool, Panda Express. Your use of the word "imitation" is very ambiguous. Work on that.

But, to be fair, I did check the ingredients post-purchase but pre-consumption. I could have not eaten the sushi. But then I would have wasted $5.95. And I'm not willing to go that far for my principles yet. I figure it's excusable. I've only been veg for a couple of weeks.

Funny though, because last night I had a dream that I ate meat. But in my dream it wasn't a (near) accident like it was today - I was eating beef in my kitchen and thoroughly enjoying it, saying that it was OK, I just wouldn't tell anyone about it.

You got me this time, sushi from the cafe downstairs. Never again.

Ew. I just googled 'pollack', and the pictures that came up gave me the shivers and half-gag. Vegetarianism confirmed.

Ben Folds kind of day...

2008-06-18T09:13:00.002-04:00

It's so gloomy today. I think those are rain clouds out there... they don't even look like clouds. They look like layers of thick gray smoke hovering just in front of the actual gray sky. Gloomy songs keep coming on my ipod, too. Terribly depressing Ben Folds songs (it doesn't get much more depressing than "Carrying Cathy") and melancholy songs sung in french with violins and accordions making me wish I was sitting at a wrought iron table at an outdoor cafe in Paris. Eating a croissant, drinking a cappuccino. I know cappuccinos are Italian. But it's my daydream, so I can mix cultures as much as I want.

I have been going through resumes for what feels like weeks. I am helping the engineering librarian hire for a new position, and it's a pretty rad job (supervisor of the new Computer and Video Game Archive) so there have been many, many applicants. I'm not cut out for this, I tell you. It was only about a year ago that I was applying for jobs at this very library, sending my resume out in to cyberspace and hoping that someone would like what they saw. I had some experience, but I was pretty surprised when I got called for an interview. And then I got promoted within a couple months of starting here. And I'm doing all sorts of things that I'm mostly unqualified for, and I'm pretty sure that everyone here has a kind of distorted idea of my capabilities. So who am I to say if these people are capable of doing this job? I'm like a Roman Emperor, deciding whether or not they should be rescued from the jaws of the really shitty Michigan job market lion. Each time I delete a resume I feel so guilty! Like I said, I just don't have the objectivity to do this.

I have been so on edge this week. I'm just anxious to get going, I think. It's in my head that I'm moving. I just want to do it, to get started on this next phase. I'm just wasting time now. Well, I'm continuing to earn money, so that's important I suppose.

I got free coffee today. A girl I know from high school works at the coffee shop downstairs, and it's her last day. So she gave me free coffee. It was awesome! She's going to Spain. I got too excited talking to her about it, and asked her many questions and probably annoyed her. But sometimes I hear a hint of that weird combination of vicarious excitement/jealousy when I tell people I'm moving to Portland, and that feels pretty good.

We're going on a little roadtrip this weekend, to Up-North Michigan. It should be wonderful, just beach lounging and cocktails and boating. I want my whole life to be beach lounging, cocktails and boating. And it's the first of three roadtrips planned for this summer, with Chautauqua, NY for the fourth of July weekend, and Pittsburgh for a weekend in mid-July.

Well, "I Need a Lover" by John Mellencamp just came on my ipod. This song is definitely on my list of top 5 favorite songs of all time. So I'm going to take a moment to rock out silently, then I suppose I'll get back to deciding the fate of the masses who applied for this job. This feels so wrong! I hope that when I'm applying for jobs in just a month or 2, someone much better suited to judge people is doing the resume reviewing.

A part of my soul just died

2008-06-17T08:19:00.002-04:00

From Paper Cuts, the NYtimes books/writing blog:

"What are you working on?

A biography of John Cheever. Happily I’d transcribed the last bit of research onto my laptop about a week before our house in New Orleans was flooded by Katrina. When I returned, a month or so later, my copy of Cheever’s original (unpublished, unabridged) journal was four linear feet of solid mold - about four million moldy words in all. My last interview for the book (maybe two weeks before Katrina) was with Cheever’s oncologist, a man of spiritual leanings who told me that Cheever had advised him, from beyond the grave, to cooperate. True story. So I’ve felt pretty good about the book since then."

If a part of my soul didn't just die, at least a part of my liver did in honor of Cheever's terribly alcoholic life. Ugh. To own a copy of Cheever's original journal... and then have it completely ruined.

I sure do spend a lot of time on NYtimes.com, don't I?

Somedays you just feel like Carnie Wilson trying to hang out with the 2 hotties of Wilson-Phillips

2008-06-16T10:30:00.003-04:00

From the NYtimes Sunday Book Review:

"As quickly as bottled water became a symbol of healthy hyperindividualism — sort of an iPod for your kidneys — a backlash turned it into the devil’s drink. In 2006, the National Coalition of American Nuns came out against bottled water for the moral reason that life’s essential resource should not be privatized. New numbers surfaced: each year the bottles themselves require 17 million barrels of oil to manufacture, and, one expert tells Royte, “the total energy required for every bottle’s production, transport and disposal is equivalent, on average, to filling that bottle a quarter of the way with oil.”"

Oh dear. Paragraphs like that make me want to crawl in to a hole.

I had a coffee meeting with my boss this morning. She cried, and I didn't know how to respond. It was like when you are a kid and you see your mom cry. The world sort of spins a little slower, and for a few minutes the dynamics in your relationship are reversed.

She cried because the reporting lines are changing here, and she won't be my boss anymore. And she failed to tell me that this will be starting July 1st. She felt really bad about it (bad enough to cry, apparently), and she said she's going to miss me very much.

I saw this as an opportunity to tell her that I will be leaving at the end of the summer. Since she won't be my boss by then, I figured I would break the news so at least I have said it aloud to somebody here. And she has me in mind for all of these projects... so I figured it was only fair to tell her that I actually will not be here for more than another month or 2.

So. I feel relieved. And even more checked out than before. Oh, I'll keep doing the things that need to be done. But my mind will be wandering off, even more than usual.

It did feel good to say out loud, though. That I will be moving to Portland. I do realize that just because I said it out loud doesn't mean that it's permanent or necessarily true in any way. If that were the case, then "Sister Christian" by Night Ranger really was written about me.

Back to work.

I have an ipod again. And yes, I did rock out to "Hold On" by Wilson-Phillips during my walk to work today. It was very inspirational.

Don'tcha know things'll change
things'll go your way
if you hold on for one more day
yeah hold on

Oh wow... I just found the music video for that song. I remember watching Vh1 as a child and just waiting for this one to come on. This, and "Save the Best for Last" by Vanessa Williams. I was really into Adult Contemporary as a child, I guess.

Back to work.

The home stretch

2008-06-13T14:55:00.003-04:00

I'm pretty sure that I'm actually Storm. As in the X-men character. I walked to work this morning and heard thunder rumbling all around me... but it didn't start raining until right after I got inside. I felt pretty awesome.

This day needs to end. I had three meetings today and too much coffee. My legs hurt terribly for no apparent reason. And I'm sick of staring at a computer screen! Get me outta here.

I'm reading some pretty intense books these days. One is entitled "Against Love." Ha. It sounds worse than it is. Basically, it challenges all of our modern notions of love, romance, marriage, and the like. It's extremely interesting. I was reading last night about how marriage actually had very little to do with love or romance or passion until novels became a form of entertainment and marriage wasn't just an economic agreement between two families.

Passion was what people looked for outside of marriage. That's what affairs were for.

Great book. I would recommend it, particularly to anyone who finds it hard to wrap their head around this love/monogamy business that everyone seems so certain is what everything in this world boils down.

I also have "The Monogamy Myth," "Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women," and "Interrogating Post-feminism" checked out from the library. I think I just heard The Commodore yell at me to get back in to the kitchen and make him a sandwich.

about 1.5 hours to go. Then, it's some red vino and possibly some homemade falafel, if I'm not feeling too lazy when I get home.

Channeling Mowgli

2008-06-12T13:11:00.003-04:00

Just caught a glimpse of myself. That is what I look like today.

Yeah. Kind of a mess.

In other news, I found my old blog today - the one I used to write in during my freshman year at Pittsburgh and my sophomore year at the always challenging Macomb Community College and then U of M. It sucked me in for a good two hours.

Luckily, there was such detail in it of events and things that I don't even remember happening that I was able to feel that I was reading about the life of somebody else. And it was all so long ago. It sort of blew my mind.

But it's nice to see that I haven't changed at all. I'm still writing in a blog when I should be doing something else. I'm a little more cynical than I was then, but that is to be expected.

The funniest part was reading the plan that I had for myself during my freshman year. Sometime at the end of April as my freshman year was winding down, I made a list of the goals that I wanted to accomplish in the next year. I was pretty sure about them, too. It was cute. They were pretty ambitious. Needless to say, I never went back to Pitt and therefore didn't accomplish any of them. I wonder how exponentially different my life would be now if I had stayed there. I'd be much further in debt, I know that much. Exponentially further.

I used to said 'juice' instead of 'peace' at the end of my entries. Haha. I think I got that from my brother. What a silly thing to say!

Juice,
jz

Wednesday = $2 latte day

2008-06-11T08:48:00.002-04:00

Did you know that there is more caffeine in plain old coffee than there is in espresso? I was a little shocked when I discovered that. Something about the little shots of espresso and the consistency of it always made me assume that it was much more potent. Not so.

I just found this article via some convoluted digital path that I think started somewhere on facebook. Basically, my friend Natalie is a badass. (That's her in the picture.)

The weather this morning during my walk was so nice. It reminded me of driving to school in the morning during high school. And having that distinct, anxious springtime feeling.

I think that someday I will go to library school. Get my Masters of Information Science. Partially because I don't know what else to do. But I think it would be a good job for me. That's if libraries even exist in the future. Everything's going digital!

Plus, I'm always looking for new and exciting ways for my friends to call me a crazy cat lady. And going from being just a library staff member to a full-fledged librarian would really pump up their artillery.

Speaking of crazy cat lady... I love lolcats and I'm not afraid to admit it. They get me through my workday.

more cat pictures

Back to work.

Monday, Monday

2008-06-09T08:48:00.002-04:00

What a lovely weekend. I stayed in Plymouth with my roommate, at her parents' house. They were out of town, so we were sort of house/dog sitting. Living the domestic life for a weekend. A little too domestic. On Saturday night the two of us were lying in her parents' bed with one of their dogs between us, reading before we went to sleep. The only things missing from the old married couple picture were a couple of pairs of reading glasses.

Speaking of marriage, we went to the Plymouth bars on Friday night with some other girls, and while they were busy talking to boys our own age I was having a serious conversation with 45 year old man (who is currently going through the final stages of divorce) about whether or not monogamy is possible. After I told him what my name is and he said, "the only affair I ever had was with a woman of the same name", I came to the conclusion on my own that monogamy is not, in fact, possible. At least not probable. But it was all very innocent, very "I'm-old-enough-to-be-your-father". And he wouldn't let me buy my own drinks. And I'm 100% sure it was better than talking to the clowns my friends were talking to would have been.

I went to church on Sunday. For the first time in a very long time. The last time I went to church (when it wasn't for a wedding or a funeral) was probably Christmas 2003. The sermon was about lost sheep, which I felt was pretty fitting. My favorite part, though, was when the pastor had a catch phrase at the end of his sermon. He said, "Go with God" in a very final way, sort like "Seacrest, out!" And I had never been to a Lutheran church before. They sing everything, every little response. It sort of reminded me of the talk-singing that happens in musicals.

Clearly, I am not cut out for organized religion. Too many things makes me giggle.

I spent many minutes out on the front porch this weekend in Plymouth. Drinking a glass of wine in the dark, watching a thunderstorm blow through. We watched the rain fall and sang as many lyrics as we could think of with rain mentioned in them. I think I will remember that for a very long time.

David Sedaris is doing a reading at the local Borders tonight, which I guess is supposed to be a big deal that I should be excited it about. It's supposed to be pretty huge - you have to go get a wristband early today and then come back for the reading in the evening. They must be expecting a pretty big turnout. I've read only a couple of essays by him, and I can't even remember if I liked them. It's pretty amazing that he built an entire career out of telling stories about his life. He must be pretty talented if people keep coming back for more. Obviously, any negative thoughts I have about him are rooted in magnificent jealousy.

I stayed up too late last night watching a movie I had already seen. When my alarm went off this morning, I shuffled downstairs to the shower. I was a little fuzzy around the edges. So fuzzy that I couldn't seem to control my flight path and rammed my right foot in to a wall. I think I may have actually broken the pinky toe. That makes 2 times I have stubbed my toe so hard that it actually broke. Maybe I have just have incredibly delicate, fragile toes. That would be pretty ironic, considering I have mammoth feet that belong on the body of a man about 3 inches taller than me.

There is a man who comes to the library nearly every day. He looks at pictures of women. Nothing too explicit, just pictures of women with cleavage showing, the occasional bikini shot. Because this is a public institution, I can't do anything about it. He told me he likes me hairstyle. Another library employee told me that he used to compose soft-core sexy stories on library typewriters. He looks relatively harmless in his over-sized Hard Rock Cafe Hong Kong shirt. And I guess he's just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the man I was conversing with at the bar on Friday. Let's just hope he's merely a lonely old man and not a sexual deviant.

I'm going to blink my eyes and the summer will be gone. Everyone I know will continue to spread out across the country. Everything will change. But it's exciting. Soon (well, not too soon) we'll all be homeowners and car owners, even children owners. Porch owners, yard owners, mowing lawns and tending to salad gardens. I hear tomato plants are particularly difficult to grown. It's just as well, I hate tomatoes anyway. We're all going to build up our little homes and worlds. Freaky.

Is it usually this hot in June? It's like we went from 50 degree weather in may to 80 degree weather in June with no pleasant early summer medium.

Portland on my mind. I should re-read all of the fiction of Michael Byers this summer so I can get in the right frame of mind. And relive my school-girl crush. Sigh. He was the most brilliant teacher I had in college. And ever. I actually spent a good 15 minutes lying on the throw rug in my bedroom last night after reading over the comments he made on a story I wrote during his class. I'm not sure why I was inspired to dig that out its' hiding spot. I read his comments, I believe I let out a long sigh, and entered a montage of memories from his seminar that I took. I used to hang on his every word. I almost cried a couple of times. He was really good.

Wow. I shouldn't have admitted that.

Two choice quotes

2008-06-06T15:07:00.001-04:00

"I would soon learn a lesson men have known for years: that it’s possible to be attracted to somebody you don’t like."

"Even cynical women can be reduced to buttery puddles by a pretty face. "

(I'm doing many, many important and productive things at work right now.)

Friday? More like Fry-day... 'cause it's so hot

2008-06-06T11:06:00.002-04:00

Record high temperatures today! After our extended winters, I always forget how hot Michigan summers can get. 90 degrees in early June is a little excessive, though. I stepped outside a few minutes ago to get my coffee fix, and it felt so good out there! After a couple of hours or so of sitting in air conditioning, I start to get a little freaked out.

I remember during the summer when I was a kid I would be inside shivering from our central air, and then I would go outside and love the humid heat that would hit me like a wall. Man, we had the best backyard, too.

I keep getting drawn to all of these articles about feminism. Maybe not about feminism necessarily, but with Hilary dropping out and Sex and the City consuming every media outlet for the past couple of weeks, everyone seems to have a lot to say about Women. I don't know where this femisist streak came from in me, but it's been there since I found my mom's old copy of "The Feminine Mystique" when I was 15 and read it, just for fun. Then I read "The Vagina Monologues" and went through a pretty righteous feminist phase. I was so ahead of my time!

This article was originally from the New York times and then posted on jezebel.com (my number one favorite website); it reignited some of those old flames. I'm pumped for the book featured in this article to be translated in to English next year.

My plans for this weekend include going to a psychic! I'm excited.

Back to working slowly and mostly daydreaming.

2008-06-05T09:10:00.002-04:00

Here is a breakdown of what runs through my mind each workday as of late:

60%: work-related stuff. It may be sad that only 60% of my thoughts pertain to projects-at-hand, responsibilities, and to-do lists. But hey, I get it all done. I think.

5%: Coffee/food. I am nearly always thinking of my next coffee break/snack/meal.

5%: articles that I read online.

10%: Moving to Portland. I wonder about the rainy weather, I look up jobs or pictures of the city... it's a wonderful way to distract myself.

20%: tattoos. Yes. Pretty much whenever I have a free moment, I am thinking about covering my body with tattoos. Or, at the very least, getting another one. I want a big one on my arm somewhere. Highly visible and badass. It may seem like an overestimation to say that 20% of my thoughts are taken up by this, but trust me, it's accurate.

Well, we just had a fire drill at the library and I almost had a heart attack.

Strung out much?

The misery train has pulled in to Apathy Station (it's an ok place)

2008-06-03T10:58:00.002-04:00

This morning was quite a battle. For the first two hours of work I sat here and devised a plan for how I was going to email my boss and take 4 hours of sick time this afternoon. It all seems unnecessary now, but I was pretty miserable. For no particular reason. But I suppose I'll stay today. Though my bed is sounding mighty appealing.

Nobody at work has said anything about my haircut, even though it is pretty noticeable. I take this to mean that they don't think it looks good, which I think is awesome.

I have spent most of my morning staring blankly at my computer screen. I have various papers spread in front of me, so as to give the appearance of doing things. But, I have my medium organic Peruvian coffee and my vegan cranberry heart-shaped bar thingees, so I'm doing a little better. I don't know. It's the clouds outside, the clouds in my head, the utter lack of direction that is swallowing up my entire existence. Once in a while it's almost enough to make me snap and I feel myself standing just on the edge of some kind of breakdown. On one side of a thin glass wall, ready and willing to throw a chair and watch the pieces fly.

You'd think that these swells of anxiety would propel me towards making a commitment to any sort of decision about my future. Goals and the like. When will I stop wallowing in my stupid blog and start living my life?

There is a poem I read once, about how the reason that anyone keeps a journal is to examine their own filth. I promptly wrote it down in my journal.

I did, however, commit to vegetarianism yesterday. Just in time for dollar burger Tuesday at Bar Louie. It's a test of will! I need more of those, I think. My moral fiber is feeling a little weak these days. I need some sort of ideology to cling to, even if it only has to do with food (at first).

Damn, this is good coffee.

"Sarah says I can sleep here!"

2008-06-01T23:17:00.002-04:00

There's a drunk girl somewhere outside of my window, rolling around in the warm air squealing about how she is sleeping on the grass. Sarah told her she could sleep there, apparently. Some soft-voiced boy is trying to change her mind. I hope his intentions are good.

The things we do to ourselves in the name of fun, in the name of being young, even in the name of temporary amnesia. You'll never catch me rolling around on a lawn at 11:20 pm on a Sunday night. At least wait until the bars close. Have some dignity, woman!

My new haircut makes me feel a little bit like a French prostitute. In a good way.

I spent this weekend sleeping and floating somewhere far away from any thoughts of my life. A weekend well wasted.

As if a haircut could change me. Could somehow exteriorize the massive leaps that I don't seem to have the guts to take. This is what happens: I reach some point of near-desperation in my life for whatever reason, and I do something drastic to change my appearance. Like my appearance was the root of the problem. And that changing my look would fix it all. It would make me a new person.

Women can relate to this. I have permed my hair in such circumstances, chopped it, grown it out long, then bleached that long hair, chopped short bangs in, chopped it off again, dyed it back to dark brown and chopped it yet again. And it never really made a difference - except for when I bleached it after a bad breakup. People treated me very differently... blonde me was quite a different gal. I'm glad she's gone.

So here I am again. New haircut. Same worries. I'll never learn.

I'm already looking forward to coffee in the morning.

2008-05-30T09:17:00.003-04:00

"We have to remember: There is nothing wrong with women writing about themselves, their youth, their indiscretions, their habits and values and personal development. Men have been writing about this stuff for thousands of years; they call it the canon." -Rebecca Traister (Oh snap!)

(Taken from this article... which is kind of awesome.)

This whole Emily Gould blog controversy has been very entertaining this past week.... and the breadth of the reactions she is receiving is mind-boggling. This girl has prompted many a writer and armchair social critic to sum up our entire generation based on her story. And THEN they start bringing in 'Sex and the City' comparisons and tying it all up with a pretty bow.

Word of the day: zeitgeist.

Hey, I'd rather say that blogs and blogging culture and the blogosphere and whatever other crazy buzzwords there are capture a zeitgeist for my generation than say that "Gossip Girl" does. Because I read that somewhere. And a portion of my soul crumbled in to a pile of sand like Wile E. Coyote after an explosive run-in with the roadrunner. The roadrunner here being the mind-numbing, irrelevant garbagey entertainment that people are just lapping up these days.

Just a second, let me just hop down off of my high horse.

Hey, Friday!

And it's nearly June. Remember when June was the best month of the year? When it meant summer vacation was starting. I'm thinking back to elementary school days when your main responsibility was to get sun-burned and come home smelling like a dirty little kid. You know that smell? It's pretty gross, but totally respectable.

Looks like a thunderstorm outside. And there was that unmistakable dirty rain smell this morning. Someone once told me that smell was the smell of worms.... that can't be true. Right?

Damn dirty apes!

2008-05-29T08:26:00.004-04:00

I got all spring-cleany last night and rearranged the furniture in my bedroom. Mostly I did it so that I could have a place to put the plant that I took from the library where it could get some sunlight so it could breathe and do its photosynthesizing. How that plant survived in the concrete wonderland of the library is beyond me. But, it is now sitting squat in front of my bedroom window. And it really adds a little something to my room, I must say.

The problems herein lies: when I moved my bed and nightstand, I had to unplug my alarm clock and replug it in elsewhere. I reset the clock, naturally... but not the alarm. I woke up with about twenty minutes to get ready.

Why does my body choose 7:20 to wake up when my alarm isn't set properly? Why not 6:30, the time when I actually do get up each morning? Just wondering. Leaves me just enough time to look nearly pulled together, but with some detail just a smidge off. For example, today I'm wearing a shirt that I have never worn to work before, and because I didn't have time to really examine my outfit, my boobs are hanging out. So. I'll look very professional at my meetings today.

Um, I read this article a few moments ago... it's kind of... rendering me speechless. And I'm not sure why. It's just fascinating.

"Lost" finale tonight! 2 hours. What more can I say?

With my monitor at home not working, that means my speakers aren't working, and that means I can't listen to music while I do things. And this has really changed the tone of my quotidian activities. So yesterday I used the dvd player in my room as a cd player (janky) and dusted off my cds. I found one tucked in to my old cd case that was titled "Summer 2003 Mix."

Now, you may not know this, but I am a fantastic mix maker. It's probably my super power. And because the summer of 2003 was such a strange, puppy-love infused, emotional tornado, I figured this mix would be a good one. Any mix that begins with the sensual guitar plucking of "Dust in the Wind" is bound to pack a punch. Ha.

I realized a couple of things, though. A) I was the worlds largest sap. I should have a certificate or something. And B) I'm so very glad I went through all of that when I did, when it was still acceptable for me be to irrational. Glad beyond words. Because if I was going through that crazy first love stuff now, I'd be making some very poorly informed decisions.

I was ready to get married when I was 17. I thought I knew everything there was to know about love. At 17! I was sure that I would never feel that way again, that I was fated to marry this boy. I was very dramatic and serious about it. And maybe it isn't possible to feel that way again - mostly because I'll never be that uninformed, or naive, or untried again. But heavens to Betsy... I'm watching friends go through it now. And I can't say anything. Well, I could. But it would fall on the deafest of ears.

Big sigh.

I feel like I'm 22 going on 50. I had one of those Dove promises the other day, the ones with the little messages inside the wrapper. It said "don't think so much." I left it sitting out on my desk. It's right under the fortune that I taped on to my monitor that says, "You may end up saving the day."

Too bad Oprah's empire is crumbling at the feet of power lesbian Ellen DeGeneres

2008-05-28T14:32:00.002-04:00

My mom is convinced I should work for Oprah. In the past 24 hours or so, she has sent me 7 emails imploring me to apply to work at Harpo studios in Chicago. She is under the (obviously inaccurate) impression that I'm qualified to be an Associate Producer for Oprah's talk show.

I just got this email from her:

"HMMM....I can already see you working with Oprah. If you go on the website and don't put in a specific career and hit search all of the jobs will come up. I know you wouldn't have been able to figure that out...I am the only one that is smart enough to do that. Love ya"

What a wise-ass.

In other news, I'll never find a man if I keep farting. Dang. You know, of all the double standards I have to deal with, I think that is the most infuriating. Maybe I'll never earn an equal salary, but for the love of God, I hope I live to see the day when I can rip a little ass and not be judged for it.

Home, home on the lake

2008-05-26T15:17:00.003-04:00

I'm writing from my mom's house, on Lake St. Clair. Since she moved here during my freshman year of college, away from my hometown and everything that mattered to me at the time, I've teetered on the edge of hating this place.

But it feels like home base now. Right on the water, it has become impossible to hold on to my dislike. It has always been beautiful here. My resentment for this place always had more to do with the varying degrees of misery I felt while living here - no of which, of course, had much at all to do with this actual place.

But I sat out on the dock today, reading. I spent a whole summer doing that once, and I never thought I would feel nostalgic for that terrible summer of getting dumped and spending the consequent months pulling up my socks. But at least then, while I was so sad, I was getting a tan and not working, living like a child. My life will never like that again, I don't think. So, I miss it.

The shallow water off the dock like chocolate milk, the expanse of the lake spreading out all around the peninsula dock, with little specks of Canada or Michigan (I never was clear on which it is) out on the horizon. And my mom's refusal to live anywhere that doesn't offer her a clear view of the lake. She'd rather stay here forever in this tiny house - renting, for Pete's sake! - than move inland. She knows what she's doing.

And my nephew is sitting behind me on his potty. Ha. How drastically a place can change in just a year or 2. Let it all out, little man.

2008-05-23T14:36:00.002-04:00

When I was somewhere right in the middle of my awkward middle school years, a couple of friends and I went to blockbuster and rented a random movie. We couldn't think of anything in particular that we wanted to see, and we recognized Lisa Kudrow on the cover on one, so we grabbed that.

Well, the movie was "Clockwatchers." Being that we were pre-pubescent and workplace humor was the exact opposite of what we found funny, the movie stank.

That movie just crossed my mind, probably because I keep looking at the clock and willing minutes to shorten.

I'd probably rather enjoy that movie now, actually. How lame. It's all coming full-circle here, folks...

2008-05-23T08:26:00.003-04:00

It was about 40 degrees outside when I walked to work this morning. It's May 23rd. I recognize that me commenting on the weather is so very pedestrian. But come on. My toesies were freezing.

I spent most of yesterday feeling jealous of each and every student I saw tapping away at their laptops, textbooks open, notes sprawled across a table. Oh, to be a a student again. I, on the other hand, spent the afternoon locking horns with the most difficult woman in the world, who I will refer to as Miss Swan. It was an epic battle. And re-established my desperate desire to get far, far away from this job.

This day just needs to pass.

2008-05-22T09:25:00.002-04:00

I just read this article on nytimes.com that warns of the perils of blogging. But this article did nothing to discourage me - in fact, it made me fantasize about being a professional blogger, just like Emily Gould, the subject/author of the article. Sure, she mangled a few personal relationships and ended up suffering through near-daily panic attacks as a direct result of her job. Sounds kind of great to me.

(How sad is it that the terrible, sad details of her life are appealing to me?)

Mistake number one of the day: wearing a tube top to work. What was I thinking?

I have my performance evaluation this afternoon with my boss. Sometimes, comparisons between my professional life and 'The Office' are what get me through my days. That, and spending the first 90-120 minutes of my workday drinking coffee that my boss made and playing on the internet.

I think that maybe I'm a bad employee. But, I suppose we'll find out for certain this afternoon on an official human resources document, won't we?

I'm going to Detroit this weekend for the Jason Mraz/Matt Nathanson/Some Other Random Dude concert. The English language lacks the words to describe how stoked I am. The human vocal chords are unable to create the excited squeals that could convey my joy. And it's general admission. Meaning we will arrive much too early and then get the best standing spots in the house!

Then, Memorial Day Weekend. At my mom's house, on Lake St. Clair. The weather is supposed to be warm and sunny, but we'll see if that pans out.

Adventures in Premeditated Vagrancy

2008-05-21T10:29:00.003-04:00

As spring is crawling towards summer, the feeling of impermanence in my life is amplifying. I have been saying for a couple of months now that I'm probably leaving Ann Arbor at the end of the summer when my lease runs out. And the amount of time between present day and that abstract end of the summer keeps getting smaller and smaller. Now that my imminent move feels more real, I am so much more aware of the fact that my time here isn't going to stretch on into eternity - which is how it has felt, particularly during slow days at work.

But I feel better now, and stronger, than I have in months. Knowing that I'm leaving has lent me this sense of 'I'm leaving anyway, so nothing I do now is all that important'. It's a kind of freedom. Like when you accidentally go home with a guy that tells you in the morning that he has a girlfriend. You know that nothing will develop between you and this profoundly terrible person, so you are free to be yourself without the fear of rejection or judgment. Not that I know about that sort of situation. Merely hypothetical.

I've noticed this with other friends, too. Two of my close friends got in to serious relationships within weeks of graduating from college, when they had spent their entire undergraduate careers not getting close to anyone. Something about having a distinct end in sight changes us. It's heartening. It allows us to cast off the little anxieties that keep us in our holes.

Anyways.

I spent my walk to work this morning thinking about Portland. I know I will be there until at least Christmastime. But after that, well, I could be anywhere. I am, therefore, looking at this move to Portland as a working vacation. And I feel great about that.

Basically, I'm ready to being my stint as a vagabond. This still will last until further notice.

But, I have to make it through a 3 hour committee meeting this afternoon regarding the future of libraries on central campus. How am I qualified to make decisions about not only the library I work in, but libraries on campus and how they will combine to form one coherent library infrastructure? Well, frankly, I'm not. But I'll spout off my unqualified opinions if asked. I'm leaving! They can clean up after me when I'm gone. (What a team player.)

Boring day at the library...

2008-05-20T13:50:00.003-04:00

I know, it must sound like quite the oxymoron.

First of all, my boss isn't in today. The cat is away. Thus, this mouse feels obligated to play. I'm taking it easy today. Mostly just messing around on the interweb.

I went on a date last night. For the first time in, oh, 3 years. And the few boyfriend dates I went on don't count - but even if they did, those were quite some time ago as well. I met someone at a bar, we talked about literature at said bar, and then he asked me out on a date. So we went and drank delicious (and potent) martinis at a fancy little bar and talked about books and authors and what-have-you.

I didn't even realize that people still did that. Went out on dates. But it's a totally different scene. Sitting, face to face, and just talking. It's like a job interview, but worse. And it didn't help that I was totally nervous and felt the need to fill every little gap in the conversation with anything that came to my mind. At one point I was speaking and I could hear that I wasn't even making sense, not even to myself.

He probably thought I was obnoxious and lame, being that he is an incredibly smart PhD student. But, at the very least, I got a couple of good drinks and a few hours seriously nerdy but really great conversation.

Dating, man. What a crazy thing.

In other news, I have all but made up my mind to move to Portland. Which is scary and huge and exciting. And gut-wrenching.

To $1 burger/$2 pint happy hour after work with Workfriend and his girlfriend. $1 burgers?! Are you kidding me? Can't wait.

2.5 hours left. That feels almost unfathomable and infinite right now.

Going Off the Rails on a Misery Train

2008-05-15T08:18:00.003-04:00

I would have said 'crazy train', but that doesn't quite capture how I'm feeling.

Early meeting that starts in an hour? Eh, I could take it or leave it. But the home-baked delicious treats and coffee that will be there? Yes. Double yes. My boss's husband always bakes for our staff meetings, which I find seriously awesome - because he doesn't have a job and she makes six figures and she asks him to bake for meetings and events so he 'feels needed'. Ha. And the man makes a mean cream cheese brownie. But sometimes he switches it up and makes muffins for morning meetings. Which actually, on second thought, are kind of better than his cookies and brownies.

Wow. I feel like such a grown-up right now.

One of the librarians quit while I was in Guatemala. Well, he 'resigned', and it was completely unexpected. My boss isn't legally allowed to tell us what happened... and believe me, I tried to find out yesterday. I pulled the old "It was such a surprise that he left, I couldn't believe it when I saw the email." Then I paused and waited for her to give me the details. She said that she couldn't say anything, because it's personal, blah blah, and I said, "No, I figured. I wasn't even going to ask you about it." The old 'ask about it by not asking about it' trick. Good for him, though. There are probably better ways to quit than doing it without warning and leaving everyone else in the lurch. But it's good to see someone get out, that it's possible.

I must have turned my alarm off this morning. I woke up at 7:22, and I have to be ready by 7:30 if I want to get to work on time. So I look cute today. And I have one of those slow developing terrible sinusy colds. Which I'm willing to bet is some sort of Guatemalan stray dog flu or something.

I'm reading "The Journals of John Cheever" again. I bought my own copy this time. He's such a good writer. And it reminds me so much of the last semester of my senior year, when I was studying him in the best class I ever took in college - my senior seminar taught by Michael Byers (cue the angelic choirs). I would get so in to what he was saying and the texts we read, that I almost started crying at least twice in that classroom. Michael Byers... what a brilliant guy. And it's a good thing I didn't read his novel and his stories until after the class had finished. I would have turned in to a serious stalker. I would recommend him to anyone - particularly his collection of short stories.

I thought I saw him walking on campus the other day. That happens quite often, actually. Ah, wishful thinking. It was just another tiny, well-dressed, dark haired man.

I'm still thinking about Portland. With every free moment I have. I think I need to just do it. I know that going out there will give me the kind of life that I want. And there's a chance that in a few months I would end up going to Italy for a while with Marge. And that possibility is really what's pushing me onward.

A little work, then meeting/muffin time.

It turns out that cheesy 80's American rock lives on in the Guat

2008-05-12T14:04:00.003-04:00

I heard "It Must've Been Love" by Roxanna 3 times whilst in Guatemala. Needless to say, I was excited each time.

What an amazing trip. And it didn't fly by, either, because we were working hard each day. But I wasn't ready to come home - quite the opposite, actually. As our plane took off from Guatemala City, I was ready to sign my life away to Habitat for Humanity. Because in light of the work we did and the people that we helped, my life in Michigan feels pretty purposeless and inane. But, because there were no life-signing-away documents at hand, here I sit.

We spent our first night in Antigua, a beautiful old city with cobblestone streets. You can't swing a Guatemalan street dog without hitting a tourist. But the abundance of tourists meant that there were nice little restaurants and shops, so it was a nice way to ease in to (and out of) the trip.

Yeah, that's a volcano in the background.

After our first night in Antigua, we spent our first full day in Guatemala hiking up Picaya, another local volcano. The few people who I have told about this trip have not really been impressed by the volcano hike, but I assure you, it was insanely difficult. It was an hour hike, I think, and it was uphill the entire way (obviously). I was panting like an asthmatic donkey. No, panting is too mild of a verb. I was heaving, or choking, or something equally as painful sounding.

But I made it. And it was worth it. Once we got as high as we were allowed to go, we climbed over piles of hardened lava so that we could get right up to the lava flow. It looked like the end of the world, with the crags of sharp black rock completely surrounding us, the gray sky and the rain. I got right up to the lava flow and poked at it with a large stick, and it was probably one of the coolest things I have done.

We drove to Escuintla after that, and the next day we started building. There is no way that I can explain the experience of building a house with my own hands that will soon shelter a family and become their home. It gave me a satisfaction that I honestly didn't believe I would ever feel. And I won't ever forget the people I met and the things that I saw.

I couldn't really ask for more out of a trip. I made some new friends, had a lot of laughs, and did some very meaningful work. But it's hard to come back to everything that I have. It doesn't feel right. I know that I can't help the fact that I was born in America and that I don't want for anything. But I don't want to be selfish anymore, and I don't want to lose the perspective that I gained.

Time to get back to work. Only 2 more hours in the day.

This will sound heavy-handed... but when I let myself think about what we did last week and the people who were so grateful for our help, my heart aches and I feel like my chest is about to burst. So I have to get through the day and only let my memories of last week come to me in bits. Our team leaders warned us a little about this feeling... and when they did, I knew it would hit me as soon as I got back.

-JZ

T-minus 13 hours 59 minutes

2008-05-02T12:30:00.002-04:00

The anticipation is killing me. As if being productive on a Friday afternoon wasn't already a monstrously difficult task.

We leave for the airport at 3:30 am. I don't think I'm going to even attempt to sleep. Considering I didn't do any sort of packing yesterday, I'm not sure there will be any time to actually sleep. No, I did line all of my toiletries up, so that's a tiny bit of pre-packing.

Instead of packing, I went to the bar, and then to a house party. One of my housemates is moving out this weekend, which is very strange. She's the first to go. This is all very reminiscent of when I was 18 years old and everyone was leaving for college. I was a sucker for all things sentimental then, and I still am. Beneath this prickly exterior I'm a terrible softy. Ask all of my student employees who get away with murder.

So, I had to go out for one last drink before she moves away. One last drink turned in to a 1/2 gallon of sangria and another 1/2 gallon of the always delectable 'constant buzz', which is basically the strawberry daiquiri's sauced up, slutty step mom.

Flash forward to me miraculously waking up without an alarm (thank sweet baby Jesus for my internal clock) about 20 minutes before I had to leave for work. I certainly look a fright - such a lovely image to leave my coworkers to just chew on while I'm gone all next week.

Bugs are amazing. There is a little beetle-y looking guy sitting on a piece of paper on my desk right now. I just picked up the paper to get a better look at him, and then shook the paper to try to make him fly away. But he just held on! How do they do that?! Their tiny little bug feet can just hang on. Fascinating.

I will probably be singing a different tune about bugs when I'm lying awake in whatever bed I will be occupying in Guatemala, with a bedsheet pulled up to my eyeballs, imaging the juicy Central American bug species waiting to strike, the likes of which the Midwest could never even dream up.

Hasta luego! If I come back.

Went to Kate Nash Concert; Want to be British

2008-05-01T10:57:00.002-04:00

Hola.

Oh, just brushing up on my Spanish.

Why? Beacuse I'm leaving for Guatemala tomorrow night. It's a funny thing, looking forward for so long. Because when what you've been waiting for finally nears arrival, it's almost impossible to imagine not waiting any longer. In 48 hours I will be there. Not here. There. Basically in a different world.

I think this trip is going to have a profound effect on me. Sometimes just reading news articles about food shortages and poverty and terrible realities of our world is enough to make me feel very ridiculous in my own shoes. And ashamed, and undeserving of what I have. Why should I be where I am, and not everyone else in this world who struggles and works so much harder than I do?

But I've never been faced with these things before. I can feel these things, but then return to my life. This trip is going to be eye-opening and I think it will change me. And it won't be a moment too soon.

I went to see Kate Nash perform at St. Andrews Hall last night. It was pretty good, but I have to admit I was a little disappointed. I like her music very much, but for some reason it wasn't all that I expected it to be.

The opening band, however, was totally friggin sweet. They were this little family trio, who I dubbed "The VonTrapp Family Emos" when they pulled up in front of the venue and poured out of their filled-up minivan. There was little 12 year old Rachel on the drums, the dad on keyboard and vocals, and the mom on back-up vocals and slide projector.

They go to flea markets and garage sales and buy old slide reels that belong to strangers. Then they look at the slides, and make up carefully rhymed songs to go along with the slides. It was hilarious, and totally original, and probably the most perfect embodiment of my sense of humor that I have ever seen. Oh dear, it was some good stuff.

We were right in the front. We were those super cool kids who got there way too early. Sarah and I were the first people there, about an hour and a half before doors opened. But, ironically, when we arrived the doors were open and Kate Nash was doing her sound check. So we strolled on in and had a listen. Hey, show me clear boundaries or I will take advantage of the situation.

After we got kicked out we thought drinks were in order, so we skipped across the street to a corner bar. Bottom shelf tequila shot for me, cause apparently I needed to put some hair on my chest. We then stood in line and waited for doors for a long time, but it was a nice day and there was some really great people watching. Random street crazies + hipster/poser kids = good times had by all who are not busy leaning up against things and pushing their lame hipster bangs out of their eyes.

Good lord, I cannot wait to be away from here for a week. Words cannot describe the shiver of loathing that runs through me when one co-worker in particular clears his throat (incessantly) but not just quietly coughing, but by grunt-yelling as loudly as I imagine any human body can possibly manage. It's just awful.

Wonder if I need to unwind at all?

Adios. Hasta la vista (damn, my spanish is bad).

2008-04-29T08:42:00.002-04:00

"Why shouldn't we stroll through life on our own little clouds? I plan to bounce around like a kid for a long time, thank you."

That's from Jason Mraz's most recent journal posting on his website. I read his online journal quite frequently, because I have a ridiculous crush on him. And it helps pass time at work. So yesterday I traveled to his website, and saw that he had just announced a concert in Detroit, for late May. I promptly hopped up and down in office, peed in my pants a little bit, and then bought two tickets. And then I realized that Matt Nathanson is opening for him, and I got even more excited. So I'm probably going to swoon and/or explode.

I talked to one of my oldest friends in the world yesterday on the phone, for the first time in way too long. His relationship of a bajillion years is on the rocks... and it is probably the beginning of the end. Ok 'bajillion' is clearly a gross overstatement, but when you're 22 years old, a 2 or 3 year relationship is pretty much equivalent to a bajillion years, if you ask me. But to be honest, he deserves to be with a saint, or Angelina Jolie, or some other other-worldly example of perfection. Joe. What a guy. It's a shame that I've known him for so long and am therefore incapable of seeing him as anything other than a brother figure. Because I would definitely swoop in while he's vulnerable.

Yesterday must have been international have long conversations with people you never talk to day. Because after I talked with Joe, I spoke with the person I mentioned yesterday who is responsible for ruining James Taylor for me. We never talk anymore, because his girlfriend (well, ex-girlfriend now) wouldn't allow it. Because she's kinda batty. So it was nice to talk to him and have an actual conversation that went beyond the standard "so.... what's up?" that we had been limited to.

I keep thinking about Portland. About the rain, and the moss that grows everywhere that it possibly can. Every rock, every tree is covered in it. I think I would be really happy there. The climate would suit my temperament, I think.

As I walked to work this morning, I shivered and watched my breath cloud up in front of me. I silently cursed the chill in the air, disbelieving the difference between today and just a few days ago when it was 75 degrees. Then I thought, no - enjoy this, because this time next week you will be in 90 degree hell-hotness building a cinder block house. 90 degrees, people. That's very warm.

The first night we are sightseeing! We are going to a volcano! I'm never coming back.

Gearing up for my trip to Guatemalost

2008-04-28T11:09:00.003-04:00

When I picture myself toiling under the near-equatorial sun in Guatemala in a week, I basically see Kate Austen, sweat-stained and totally smokin' hot. Yes, this is unrealistic. and I realize that I will not look at all attractive or ripped whilst covered in grit and sweat like Evangeline Lilly does. But a girl can dream, can't she?

I have mentioned Evangeline Lilly in two posts already. That's kinda weird, right? Speaking of 'Lost', I definitely had a 'Lost' dream last night, featuring a few of the characters and a creepy, mysterious plot. It was probably induced by the Malaria pill I took on Saturday - one of the side effects is weird dreams. Some other brands of Malaria pills include psychosis and homicidal urges as side effects, so if a 'Lost' dream is all I have to endure I will consider myself lucky.

Meanwhile, it's nearly impossible to get anything done at work. Even harder than usual to focus or spend my time productively - so you know it's bad.

This weekend was graduation, and we had a potluck lunch at our house with all of the families of the graduates. There was large quantities of food, and large quantities leftover, meaning that all of the awkward mingling with extended relatives was worth it. I scooted out of the party early on Saturday to head to Grosse Pointe to see Marge, my best friend/favorite human being. She lives in the pacific northwest, and I only get to see her about once or twice a year. She was in for the weekend, forced by her family to be home for her older brother's completely unexpected community musical theater debut. It was nice seeing her family... I basically grew up at her house, so it's strange to be back there as an adult. The oddest thing was drinking coffee there and cooking breakfast for ourselves. Her mom would have been happy to do it for us, but we were in a hurry so we scrambled our own eggs. I've been eating meals there for the past 12 years, but this one really made me feel old. Hard to explain.

I actually cried when I saw Marge. She's just the best. And after a long talk, I'm reconsidering my choice of city for my big move. Strongly reconsidering. Seeing her and talking to her just made me feel good, like I felt when I went to visit her for my senior spring break. Not just good, but somehow refreshed, or centered, or attuned to how I really want my life to be. And if I could potentially feel that way all time by moving to Portland and living with her, I should probably do that.

It's noon already?

I'm going to see Kate Nash on Wednesday, and I am beyond excited. I started listening to her last spring, probably just about a year ago. I listened to her incessantly then, so all of her music brings back all of my post-graduation excitement/summery good feelings. Isn't it wonderful how certain albums/artists/songs can become so connected to distinct time periods? Also bad sometimes though, because I am only just now able to listen to James Taylor after his entire milieu was ruined by the fact that I saw him in concert on a perfect summer night at an outdoor amphitheater with my high school boyfriend. I was sickeningly in love, so when things ended miserably and my poor little heart was broken, naturally I took it out on James Taylor. Ha. Such a silly girl.

4 hours down, 4 to go.

I just have to say that I bought a dress yesterday. A girly, frilly, pale yellow dress that I have every intention of wearing to work sometime soon. Now if that isn't a sign of my need for radical change and/or of the apocalypse, I don't know what is.

Natural history

2008-04-25T12:30:00.002-04:00

I'm at the museum of natural history right now, covering their 'circulation desk' while the student worker takes her lunch break. I use the term circulation desk very loosely, as the museums library is really just two rooms with bare pipes running overhead and large metal shelves with unorganized stacks of paper and books.

This is probably the coolest building on campus. It's like stepping back in time, especially in the areas that aren't open to the public. The doors are all the original ones that came with the building, you can tell from the brass handles and thick, dark wood they are made of.

With all of the renovations that have taken place on campus, this building seems to have been miraculously sidestepped. I think it's great. Biomedical sciences can have their trillion dollar buildings. The people who hang out in these buildings have a penchant for mustiness anyway, I think.

The weather outside is blowing my mind. There is a hot wind blowing that should not be happening in April. But flowers are blooming, and lawns are green. I'm looking out at a beautiful dogwood tree that is dripping with its pink-white flowers. Just lovely.

I just got a phone call from my best friend in the world, and it wasn't good. And suddenly I'm not in the blogging mood.

Off to finish my workday.

Tedium... sounds like a prescription med, but it's actually my job description

2008-04-24T10:26:00.003-04:00

The task ahead of me today is changing the public records of all of the books that will be on reserve at the Biological Station so that they say "Spring 08" instead of "Spring 07." Thus, I am hiding in my office, putting it off.

My monitor at home is completely busted. I turn it on, it flickers for a couple of seconds (just long enough for me to see the crazy hot picture of Evangeline Lilly that is my wallpaper) and then it goes black. In the 3.5 years I have owned this computer, this is the only problem I have encountered - and I take pride in that. But I have no idea how to get it fixed.

This is why I need a boyfriend. Because this will probably go for a long time without getting fixed, because I don't need my home computer. Just as I have gone months and months without a screen in my bedroom window. And half of my curtain rod hanging off of my wall because one of the screws popped out. I could very easily take care of these things myself. But I just don't care to. And boys like to do things.

Speaking of boyfriends, suddenly all of my housemates have boyfriends. Even the crazy ones. It's very strange, and it makes me feel like a creepy old cat lady who lives on the third floor.

But this computer malfunction is good, I think. I've been feeling a little too technology-addicted lately (she typed furiously into her blog ). I hate that I sit at a computer all day at work, and then come home and automatically sit down at my computer and do the same stupid things online that I was doing at work in order to pass the time.

I'm reading this book called "Against Happiness", and it's all about this author's struggle to accept the fact that he just isn't one of the shiny happy masses. Definitely something I can relate to. But it's also just amplifying my pessimism, which isn't a good thing at a time in my life when I'm trying to decide what exactly will come next. Much better to be hopeful and positive at times like these, I would think.

Sometimes I look down, at realize that what I'm wearing is terribly inappropriate for work. Much more cleave on display that I expected. But, this does play in to my grand scheme to get fired from this job for something awesome, like sexual harassment. If I'm going to leave anyway, might as well go out in style. And by 'in style' I mean 'enveloped by pending sexual harassment litigation and retraining orders.' Naturally.

Graduation is on Saturday. And consequently, I feel weird, and old, and kind of miserable. You know, I think it's this time of year. Something about the pervasive feeling of things coming to an end, maybe. For at least the past three years I have spent a few days in the early spring staring serious life crises right in their beady little eyes. Something tells me that this trend will continue for years to come, and that I ought to just get used to it.

I'm off to take the airs with my roommate, she's stopping by to visit me and take a stroll. Then, I will get back to my dull, meaningless, utterly routine day.

(cue Debbie Downer theme song.)

2008-04-22T10:35:00.002-04:00

I, as a relatively smart person, didn't really start getting irony until somewhere near the age of 20. I distinctly remember sitting in my AP Lit class in high school and saying something to the tune of "irony and satire just always go right over my head" aloud.

So, what makes people think that little girls would catch on to the supposed irony of this?

Thank God finals are almost over here. The library will shortly go back to a tidy, quiet place. I am very excited for this.

Also, while I'm thanking mysterious forces of the universe, glory be to whatever caused the plumbing on the second floor of this building to break. As a result, any staff members from the second floor who need to use a bathroom or drinking fountain are forced to go to a different floor.
And a certain staff member of a certain hippie persuasion (...sigh...) has decided that the third floor will be his choice for building facilities. And he came over and had an entire conversation with me yesterday, for the first time ever. Call me a twelve year old girl, but it's these little things that get me through the day.

You know... maybe it took me so long to understand the concept of irony because when I actually was a twelve year old girl, Alanis Morrisette completely misguided me with her song "Ironic". There are some very poor examples of irony given in that song. It's more of a song made up of instances of really bad luck. I'm just saying - if there are 10,000 spoons when all I need is a knife, that's just outrageous and damn frustrating, but not ironic.

Hey, at least I have that song stuck in my head now.

Yesterday at my weekly meeting with my boss, she told me that I have more potential than I know and that not only could I one day end up being her boss, but that she would happily report to me.

Naturally, the only response I could come up with was a nervous giggle. Accepting compliments is not a skill of mine. It was wonderful to hear that, though. Left me hovering 4-6" above the ground, because my boss is an enormously smart woman that I really look up to.

Although, I can't help but cling to that sliver of insecurity (it's deeply embedded, I think, too deeply to ever be plucked out) that assures me that any minute now my boss and everyone else will look at me and in one crystallizing second realize that I don't know what I'm doing. That I'm still unqualified for this job and still very young.

But that moment hasn't happened yet (I hope), so if I can continue to dupe them for a couple more months I will be in the clear. Sunny California is looking more and more like my future home each day.

2008-04-22T08:19:00.002-04:00

"I was telling one of my friends that working in the library is kind of like living in a Samuel Beckett novel. There are all these people that came before us in these jobs, and they probably never really understood why there were here, just like we will never understand why we are here.

And eventually we'll lose our humanity just like they did, and we'll be replaced by others just like us."

Nothing like the most perfect analogy ever created to start my day off. Big thanks to Justin (probably my only like-minded compatriot in the library system) for his morning visits and saying awesome things like that/talking to me about 'Lost'.

Oh Tuesday, the lamest day of the week. It really has nothing going for it. Last weekend is, by now, a memory, and next weekend is nowhere in sight.

If I were a man...

2008-04-21T13:49:00.000-04:00

I gave our waiter at lunch a big tip, only because he was cute and he smiled at me as he gave us our check.

As a matter of fact, the service was pretty sub-par.

If I were a man, I'd be a total pig. But since I'm a woman, I can get away with this sort of backward thinking. Ha! I love it when a double standard swings in my favor for a change.

The Garfield Debate

2008-04-21T08:48:00.000-04:00

It being Monday and all... I need to solve this Garfield debate that took place on Saturday night.

Everyone knows that Garfield hates Mondays. That is cultural common knowledge. Everyone also knows that he loves lasagna. And that he hates Odie, and that he thinks that John Arbuckle is kind of a loser (man, I really wish that I could have remembered John's last night when I was a few drinks deep on Saturday - that would have been impressive).

But what most people don't know about Garfield is that he loves coffee. Because most people have only a cursory knowledge of Garfield. But I have read many a Garfield comic strip, because I feel that Garfield is the fictional character that is most similar to me. I need to win this one.

This weekend was fantastic. The first of many graduation celebrations to come, no doubt. Just because I graduated a year ago doesn't mean that I can't celebrate with this year's graduates!

Considering I spent all of Friday counting down the minutes until the end of the day, I'm going to have to actually do something productive at work today. Does extensive Garfield research count as something productive? It should.

Once in a while it crosses my mind that when I move away at the end of this summer there is a good chance that I will never see any of these people again (save for the few that I will move away with). It's sad, but mostly it's invigorating. To know that you can stuff some boxes with your earthly possessions, hit the road and start over.

I can be a vagabond if I want. I can be in perpetual motion, stopping only to wrestle with a rattlesnake in the desert or drink a Budweiser on the banks of a Louisiana river.

I actually did drink a Budweiser on the banks of a Louisiana river once. The rived faded in to a large swamp. I remember walking around this property and walking down this long, skinny dock and that led you out to the swamp. At then end of the dock you could stand there and know that the murky green surrounding you had been the same, murky and green, forever. It was spooky and damp, and like being in a different world. It was the end of August, and the people who lived on this tiny back road spent all day sitting outside, soaking up the humidity and talking. Small town livin'.

I just got lost in my memory of that place for a minute or two, and it will probably be the highlight of my day. Depressing, eh? But the sushi I plan to eat for lunch will take a close second. Oh, I do need to get out here. If memories and food are the best part of my day... that's a problem.

-JZ

I never truly understood the glory of Friday until I got a real job.

2008-04-18T14:57:00.000-04:00

This has been, quite possibly, the longest day in the history of days. Not because I have been busy - quite the opposite, actually. This is just one of those days when the stars align and I have nothing to do at work. Well, there's always something I could be doing. But nothing of pressing importance. So I'm left to sit and count the minutes until I'm at Dominick's, sitting on a lovely sunny patio, drinking an Oberon and enjoying the nice weather.

All I can think about is this Yale chick's abortion art project.

Wonder if she would object to me referring to her as a 'chick'?

Her project fascinates/terrifies/disgusts me. I suppose that's the point. I guess I have to support anything that gets people thinking and talking that isn't celebrity gossip. It's been a while since my Women in Literature class, so some of her discourse was a little over my head. If you're going to create an art project that will inevitably stir the pot and seriously freak people out, at least have the courtesy to talk about it in accessible language! Come on.

This weekend should be a good one, but it's killing me to watch all of my friends graduate. I wish I was graduating with them, so I could buy a cap and gown and go through all the celebration. My own graduation passed with hardly pomp OR circumstance at all, and it almost feels like it didn't even happen.

Oh goodness, I can't believe a year has passed since my college graduation. That fact could really dampen my spirits. Luckily, there are only about 90 minutes to get through until I can dampen my spirits with a different kind of spirits, if you catch my drift.

About an hour or so left of work, which I'll be forced to spend trying to flirt with the reference librarian who works the Friday afternoon shift. He is so unresponsive to my efforts!

Then, I'm off to a meeting to discuss my upcoming Habitat for Humanity trip to Guatemala. After that, the sunny, boozey patio awaits.