Seeking You Out...

...when the time is right.

I have a love/hate relationship with facebook. On one end I like having access to people's lives that I am currently friends with. I don't mind knowing that Kathleen ( this cool chick from work) can't wait to see Jennifer's Body by Diablo Cody or that Angie is enjoying DC. I don't mind seeing the results of my friends stupid quizzes, or that today they are feeling shitty/happy/angry and yadda.

I mean in a sense I already know these things about them. But sometimes you get a nice bit of tidbit that surprises you or reiterates why you like them so much. Not saying that you can't have a solid healthy friendship without knowing that Josh stayed about late drinking or that Ana has a psych test today, but it's an added bonus.

The problem with facebook though is that you now have access to people you would never have access to in the past. Remember that kid you use to play with who lived around the corner or that drama teacher you had a crush on in middle school. There was once a time where you could go "I wonder what happened to this person" and then brush the thought aside. And even if the nagging curiosity got to you, you could ask your parents or the friends you have kept in touch with if they know what happened to this person.

Now, it's completely different. All you need is a name or good research skills and you can find out what happened to your crush from the 3rd grade. It's amazing. And I must admit I am guilty (during my more infrequent nostalgia days) of going through a year book and seeking these people out on facebook. Not even to read their profiles, but just to get some glimpse of who they are in some attempt to get some insight into their lives.

But it has always stopped there. I have rarely pressed the 'add as friend' button (though it's tempting). I talk about my past a lot but there is something about befriending someone who I don't really know anymore. I mean I could be over thinking this. But in all honesty if I'm seeking out Diane from around the corner ( a person i once knew) it's not really because I want to know what she is doing now and want to grab drinks with her. I mean a part of it is, but I think the real reason is because I want to connect to that part of my life that no longer exists.

Now this does not mean that I won't accept a request from a person I once knew. For some reason Graduation has spurred a lot of requests from people in my past. Two of my best friends from childhood contacted me late last year and I was thrilled to reconnect. Of course it went no further then emails and comments on pictures but I was okay with that. I would soon find out that one contacted me because his mother had just died and he needed to be reminded of times when she was alive (which included memories of me and orchestra class) and the other had to leave school early (financial reasons) and she wanted an old friend to talk to. So now you know why I don't take these requests seriously.

So waking up early today in order to get some writing done (blogging counts) I was a little apprehensive when I saw a friends request from a kid I knew way back when. His name is David and we went to elementary and middle school together. He was actually a really good friend at the time. I went to all of his birthday parties, and ate lunch with him regularly. He was a drama nerd and I was a 'serious' screenwriter back then, so we were a creative match. The apprehension did not come from the out of the blue request. It came from the fact that this is not the first encounter I have had with this kid. But the first time I was the one seeking him out.

When I had to leave my first college because of financial aid reasons I was the most miserable I have ever been. This is no exaggeration. I was what some would consider a 'hot mess'. At the time I felt as if I were this big failure and this was probably my first real encounter with depression. Needless to say I was on the 'google your friends online' bandwagon before it got popular. At the time facebook was exclusive, and I don't believe myspace existed (or it wasn't as known as it is now) so I just googled names . The only person who I could find was David simply because he was taking this acting thing seriously and had a website set up with his Resume. On the website was an email address and being the idiot that I am I emailed him. To this day, I regret that.

I got an email a few days later. And after debating whether I should open it or not, I found the courage to read the damn thing. And luckily because I didn't lie when I said I document everything I have the email for you. I wrote it down (word for word) in my journal because the content was heartbreaking:

Hi there...this seems to be the summer for blast from the past, as I recently got in touch with a high school friend whom I haven't seen in two years, but you've definitely beat her out...Mrs.Bruno's class in the 5th grade....WOW!

The letter starts out great. But it goes downhill from there

I'm trying really hard, and I'm not sure if I remember you or not. I'm terribly sorry, but I have a bad memory for names, and unfortunately your isn't triggering my memory. If you have a picture you could send that might help jostle my memory, though (as you've seen pictures of the current 'me' on my website) we have each probably changed a good deal since 7th grade.

Good luck with the pre-med! I know I could never do that....but screenwriting is something I've definitely tried my hand at! I hope you have fun and succeed with everything!

I certainly did not expect to find this in my inbox when I logged on. Hopefully we'll find some way to bring back the memories...Oh, god, seven years ago back. Thanks for getting in touch!Ciao!

The end. When I got this letter five years ago I was pissed. Not so much because he didn't remember who I was but because I had spent all of my time remembering who he was. Remembering who all of them were. In my mind they had never stopped being my friend. In my mind we were just divided by distance, nothing more or less. And in a way, his letter was a slap in my face from my own hand for hanging on to something and some people who were no longer mine in the present tense. They were mine and they remain mine only in memories where we never grew up.

So this friend request was weird. I don't know if he befriended me because he has an idea of the girl he knew in the 5th grade or because he remembers the girl who wrote him five years ago. In any case, I am brushing this aside as another reminder of the times. That we have become so accessible to people we once knew but who we don't really know anymore. Sure I checked out his pictures and read some of his wall comments but this kid is a stranger to me now, as I am one to him.

F*cking facebook. Anyway, I am suppose to be writing stories but I can't stop reading books. I am preparing myself for my internship in August by reading a crapload of romance books. I use to love these things but now they seem like frivolous excursions to places where members are always throbbing and bosoms are always rising and falling. I just finished a book where a woman has fallen in love with a werewolf. She is treating him (yeah, she's a doctor) because he's an alcoholic who has blackouts. The blackouts turn out to be connected to his claim that he is a werewolf. Of course they fall in love yadda yadda yadda. I've never read a book about a werewolf, so all I could think about was whether she was going to have sex with the wolf or the man (turns out having sex with a beast is illegal). I am not much of a feminist but this books (targeted towards women) are fun to read but questionable. But that's a whole post in and of itself. I have put those books aside to read The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis. I love this guy. I have read The Informers, Less Than Zero, and American Psycho. I think his dialogue is to die for.

~Beck

Going to the D of the C.

When Angie got her job in Washington DC, we made plans almost immediately for me to come and visit her as soon as she settled into her job and new settings.

I can't reiterate how hard living in New York is. It's when you have money but if you don't it's literally a place you work your ass off in only to survive on the basic needs. She was laid off from her job in November and quickly got work at the bookstore. But she still lived in an apartment whose rent alone was $1400. So by May she had no choice but to pack up and leave.

At the time we didn't think about becoming roommates. That would have solved a lot of our problems (her rent problem and my aunt problem). We only thought of this afterwards when I began my slight apartment search before I came home. Nevertheless she has been in the DC area for about 6 weeks and I am sort of ready to see her.

The way DC works (i guess) is that it is so close to Maryland you can pretty much commute without much trouble. She lives right on the border which gives her access to the metro area and to her apartment somewhere in Maryland where young professionals live. Whatever that means. She says there are plenty of bars and coffee shops (which also sell books) that we can go to and plus we can do some touristy stuff in DC.

My first and only trip to Maryland was when I was in the 6th grade. It was a two day excursion from New York to the what we thought was the country. Because most of us had never been anywhere outside of Westchester, everything north, south, east or west of our area constituted to the country, by proxy. Early on in the year our school mandated where each floor (because for some reasons each floor (considered a 'house') held a certain number of 6th graders divided up at the beginning of the year by academic standing. It was weird) of our 3 story school would go for the end of the year trip. I say we got lucky (house 1) with Baltimore because we were the only house to have a overnight trip.

My memory of the trip is limited. I remember going to cardinals (?) game and cheering for the Yankees who weren't even playing. I remember hanging out with my bunk makes at the mall as we pretended to be adults because for 30 minutes we were left unchaperoned by the teachers at this huge mall overlooking the ocean. The mall was located on a pier and at the time this was the most amazing sight we had ever seen. I remember going to a Imax theater where we watched a movie about Everest. We then went to a slave museum that resembled a haunted house only because of the displays of people shackled and wax figures missing limbs. We headed to a hands on activity museum where I hung out with one of my many crushes back then.

At night we called random rooms looking for our friends. The teachers came to each room and wished us goodnight. The chaperons for our house were my English and math teacher. My English teacher was a British lady who liked to straighten my collar a lot, and she let me take books home from class. My math teacher was actually a substitute who took over for the math teacher who was on maternity leave. His name was Mr. Stumpo and he was 26. We all thought he was the hottest thing in the whole entire world except that he had a temper. When we weren't paying attention in class he would bang his fist against the board and give a 10 minute lecture on respect. Sometimes we could hear him (with us other class) two rooms away and Ms. Gardner (the perfect name for a British English teacher) would wait until he finished ranting to continue her lessons.

Anyway, when they came to our doors to wish us goodnight they gave his snacks from the vending machine. As the door closed I accidentally said 'bye dad'. For the rest of the year he was really nice to me and gave my butter cookies for being a good kid.

I imagine my trip to Maryland and DC will be a little different this time around. I am not twelve anymore, for one thing and there will be no malls or piers in my future. I was suppose to go on my first adult trip this Friday (sans mom), but the computer thing was stressing me out and I had no plans of booking it to DC without my computer in working condition (and plus I need to save all the money I have). Angie was a little disappointed but I figure I can see her on the weekend once I am back in the New York area. It will cost a lot less to get there from New York then where I live now.

Instead this Friday Marie had the 'brilliant' idea to get in touch with our old librarian. We were in the Media club in high school ( told you I was a nerd) and worked with her for four years. She let us eat in the library and she got us out of drivers ed. Marie and I are the only people from the media club to have not seen her since graduation which is sort of bad because we were the closest to her.

Last week Marie and I got in contact with her, and agreed to have brunch with her sometime in the future. We are feeling a little apprehensive about this because when we knew her we were angry antsy awkward teenagers and now we are just awkward adults. We both talked to her on the phone a week ago and we didn't know what to say to her. Marie kept telling her about my life and I kept telling her about Marie's life. Together we are hoping that we will make one cohesive put together adult because separately we both failed in that department.

Anyway, I should get some writing done. I have sort of a block that has nothing to do with lack of ideas but anxiety over whether my words matter. Damn.

Changes

I could sense the cobwebs growing on this things. I know I have not been the best blogger this last year but I am working on it...one blog post at a time.

I've been home for a little under 3 weeks and the sense of cabin fever is growing on me. Without a car, friends, or even a computer for the last couple of days, I have been trapped inside my house for at least 23 hours a day. This has reminded me of my sense of isolation here, my sense of not belonging and thus longing to be any place else.

I mean the home life is amazing. My mom is glad to have her daughter back home, my brother is glad to have my things to use for the next few weeks, and I am glad for being fed on a regular basis (a luxury I did not have at my aunts). Of course I am happy to be home too. I understand that I may have rushed the whole leaving home thing. I mean days after graduation I was on a train to New York with grandiose assumptions that didn't pan out exactly the way I planned.

But in essence nothing was really planned. I just sort of ran away from home, leaving everything as it was without even trying to tidy up my space here. And it was easy to run away, under the pretense of starting this new life somewhere else. Under the pretense that it had nothing to do with my sense of dread here. So coming back has been a little weird. As if I have stepped into this house that resembles my home except it misses the things that gave it character and heart. And in some way I think that is why my mom needed me here, even if it is only for a little while. She just needed this place to feel like it once did before everything sort of changed.

Speaking of changes, in a couple of days I will have been blogging for four years. This seems insane to me that four years ago I was 19 years old and just starting out on this thing. I still refer to this as my journal because for some reason calling it blog doesn't really fit what I've been writing for the past few years. I think blogs have an agenda and for me I've only wanted to just have a space I could write on. In the age of technology it was just easier to write online than in a notepad.

Four years is a long time. In a way I feel like the same person yet completely different. It's a weird adjustment phase for me because I am on the cusp of whatever adulthood is and instead of having some great epiphany about myself I am struck by the similarities of the girl I am and was.

Case in point: Before leaving New York I decided to concentrate on writing some creative nonfiction. Ever since graduating from college Marie and I have been talking on the phone or texting at least once a day. To date she is the person I have been friends with the longest. I mean we met on the first day of 7th grade and it's been great heartache from then. We are the best of friends and the worst of friends. This last year we have relied on each other for moral support. I have a social while she has a career. She harps about how lonely she is while I complain about struggling to find a job and a sense of direction. We both tell each other it will be okay. That we will be okay before she manages to annoy me on the phone and before I annoy her with my sensitivity. We hang up pissed at each other and then start the whole thing the next day. It works

Anyway, I talk to Marie about writing because I am trying to share my creative ideas with people I trust. I can't be a writer who doesn't talk about her writing because where will that get me. Marie is not the biggest help in the world, but she listens and she does pull me back when my ideas are a little far fetched (like trying to write a story about Peru when I've never been. I am still working on that one). Because we talk about our past a lot, it seemed only fitting that I do some creative nonfiction. I mean I was reading a lot of memoirs and collection of stories by such authors and it seems easy to do. I mean I write about my life almost daily (weekly? okay monthly) and I don't have to much problem doing that. Marie thought it was a good idea and she suggested that I go over some of my journals from the ages I wanted to write about.

This sounded like a good idea, until I got home and started reading the journals I'd written from 7th grade onward. I was an angry little bugger. I could smell the teenage angst on the pages and it brought me back to a place I never want to revisit. It was frightening because I am not an angry person. But I had boiled everything in to a point where I exploded on paper. I mean it's my handwriting, and my thoughts but not entirely the person I am today. Which is a good thing. The point is, it's great to have this stuff written down. I mean I have written in a journal since I was in the sixth grade (which I still have) and it's nice to look back and recognize the parts of myself that have made me who I am today. Or more importantly see how different I am.

There are changes about me, and like I have written so many times before, I have yet to figure out if these changes are good or bad. But for now, it feels right. I think.

Anyway,

I have to do some major remodeling with this journal. Most of my links are now expired. They've been up since the beginning and it feels only fitting to get rid of the ones that no longer work. So the links will be under construction while I add and delete things. It's about time anyway.

Back In Business

I have my computer back!! If you could only see the smile on my face. I think it could illuminate a very darkened room. Of course I have been surfing the net the last couple of hours instead of anything real productive. What? Sue me. Four weeks without access to a computer has been hell. Okay, only the last week was hell but I'm just saying.

Thank you Geek Squad. How I love thee after cursing thee out the last two weeks.

Regular posting after the holiday weekend. It's a little weird this year trying to celebrate thought tomorrow will mark one year since...you know. We are trying to make the best of it though.

Happy 4th!

Best Buy My Ass

My computer is still broke. Best buy was suppose to have finished it this week but they are giving me the run around. Sorry I cannot write more, I am stuck at the library because I am useless without a computer. Hopefully I will have my computer in the next few days. I have so much to write about now that I have the time to do it. I have not disappeared but I literally have no computer to write anything down with. I miss writing entries. Fingers crossed for some good computer news in the next few days.

Beck

Leaving Prematurely

So today is the day I have been dreading. In less then 4 hours I will be in a cab headed to the airport.

I prematurely said goodbye to my Aunt and Michelle (I teared up with this goodbye) though I still have a note to pen to my aunt, telling her how much fun I had here and that in the future (august) I may (will) need a place to stay until I find an apartment. Grad school is out folks and I have to move on.

Everything people say about New York is true. This place is a fucking hard place to live. It's expensive, the people are tough, and sometimes you wonder what it's all for. What's the point of struggling so hard for nothing more than being able to say that you live here. But outside of the down points, this place is amazing. I dread leaving (even though I will return soon) because this place has tested me more than I could have ever asked for.

I've actually made friends, I actually don't hate my life, and for once I am comfortable with being completely uncomfortable. I am not the same person who moved up here a year ago. This is neither a bad or good thing. I am just altered by my experience and grateful for all of it. I know I am writing as if I am never coming back to this place. In all honesty I am just sad that my life is going to be on hold for a good month.

I've staked my claim here, and determined that this is a place I want to be. Be it a year or more. Time to finish packing. I also have to return some very late library books. Bitches are going to kill me for keeping their books out for a few more days. I wanted to finish up the Virgin Suicides...which is an amazing book.

I will be sans computer (for real) until next week. Best Buy said it would take 3 weeks until my computer is returned to me, and it's only been 2.

Until Then

Becks

2 More Days of Bliss

Enough said.

Leaving is Hard to Do

I am about to go to the post office to mail some of my stuff 'home'. Working at the bookstore means that I now have a collection of books I have not yet read but of course plan to read before who knows when. Literally I have 20 or so new novels lying around. I have read about 4 of them completely. My mom is eager for me to start sending my things home, but I've slacked on that.

This moving shit is no fun. Yesterday my co-worker (and friend) walked me half way home, and I realized as we strolled down the street, that I never want to leave this place. In between our conversation about Heroes and the nickname I have been given at work (Penny. From Inspector Gadget), I was consumed by dread. That once again I have to leave a place just at the moment when things are looking up. And all I could think about on the way home was that I don't want to leave. Not now anyway. For once, my life is not perfect but it isn't completely horrible. I am creating something here. I have started construction on my life and I don't want to leave right when the foundation is being put up.

I don't know what to think about being home for 6 weeks. I am happy to go but not all too thrilled because I know while I am there I will want to escape back to my life here. And I am hoping that not too much changes when I come back. I want to start off right where I left with no major setbacks and roadblocks. Because in all honesty that's what happens when you leave. You come back and nothing was the way you left it, and you have to figure out where you left off.

I am desperately going to miss being here. I am going to miss my friends and even my job. I am going to miss feeling like things are going in my favor for once. I am going to miss my life, the life I don't completely hate.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

So I sent my computer home yesterday. My heart breaks in agony. Okay it's wasn't that dramatic but there is something about being without a computer that is very unnerving. I asked my mom yesterday what people use to do before the whole Internet thing. There was a moment of silence, followed by a laugh: We went outside.


Makes sense to me.

Hopefully it will be fixed before I get home. The last day has been hard enough and I couldn't imagine a whole summer sans computer. I would actually have to find ways to entertain myself without youtube. It doesn't seem right.

I bought my ticket yesterday. So in two weeks I will be home, in my bed, planning my way back here. I can't mention it enough that I do not like Small Town USA. I mean sometimes I get that weird yearning for the peace of quiet there, but soon after I am instantly smacked back into reality and my memories of small town living remind me that I never want to live there again. Seriously.

Marie still lives in the region of our adolescent days and she is miserable there. When we talk it's constantly about the mentality of people and how she feels trap there. Trapped only because she could never do what I'm doing. She has said this to me. She could never just wander around and try to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She could never just get a bookstore job and bum at her relatives until something good comes her way. And because of this she remains at her crappy 'real person' job that she hates because taking a risk on your life is too scary.

The other day she was telling me about a new intern she has. She sent me a text message first. It was a quick 'hot new intern. call you later' message. When she did call me she quickly said that hot new intern has been demoted from hotness because she heard him making some off colored remarks about women and minorities. We now dub him the Nazi, and by her description we are talking serious supporter of the Nazi party.

This was sort of aggravating because I continue to believe that Marie is one of the smartest person I know and yet she continues to be miserable with her life because she is too afraid to change her situation. Yes the economy is bad. Yes getting a job sucks. But she has been in that town for a year, and has yet to make any friends and has yet to be comfortable in the life she has there. And if it were me, I would get the f*ck out of there, build a life for myself somewhere else before she really gets trapped there.

I asked her some questions about the Nazi: what she plans to do with him, has she reminded him that he is only an intern and that sort of discussion will not be tolerated in the work place. She didn't really say anything. She said that she brought it up to him and said that in the future she would write him up but that was it. She then wanted to talk about how she can make his life a living hell while he interns there. I sort of didn't want to talk about that because this has not been the first (nor will it be the last time) time she has brought up her dislike for Small Town USA. That she meets guys and girls like the intern on a daily basis.

I wanted to talk instead about her seriously looking for a job out west (where she has talked about living), about getting a job that she likes that can also pay the bills (she's a pig farmer or something like that) but the more and more I kept bringing this up to her the more she kept changing the subject.

At one point her only friend (Jake) called while we were talking and she said she would call me back. She wanted to discuss the intern with him because Jake and her use to work together before he got promoted. I was purchasing my tickets at the time so I said it was cool if she called me back. She must have had a crappy conversation with him because when she did call me again she was pissed that I wanted to take the train home (planes freak me out).

Yes. Pissed. Because I told her that I finally purchased my train tickets. Bitch went crazy after this. Why are you taking the train? Trains are stupid? You're stupid for wanting to sit on a train for god knows how many hours just because you have an irrational fear of planes (not all planes just the small ones I am always riding on!)? I can't believe you man, that's just ridiculous. How are you ever going to visit all those countries you talk about if you don't want to take a plane? I guess we are never going anywhere any way.

Dude. WTF? At first I didn't really understand what the hell she was talking about. I mean I am the one paying for the ticket. And I am in no rush to get home. So after her tirade I made some excuse so I could get off the phone with her. What a crazy bitch. But then I realized the train/plane thing wasn't the real issue.

Marie and I have always had this weird friendship. In college she rarely called me. I mean when I say I was a loner in college this doesn't exclude Marie. It's not that she ditched me, it's just that she had other friends and I was just the go too. Our friendship is competitive. If we are both having horrible/miserable lives, then we talk. But when ones life is not as miserable, then we want to chastise or find fault in it. I mean I was jealous when she got a boyfriend, and now she continues to criticize my life as some Reality Bites movie. That this is not the way a 23 year old should be living.

And I realized the moment I return to Small Town USA, is the moment we are back on that same playing ground. Where we are both slightly miserable together. And I think she takes great offense when I talk about not wanting to come home because that place and our friendship is different. Not in a bad way but just in a "believe it or not we aren't Middle School anymore" way. Yeah my life is far from perfect, but I like whatever I am building here. It's the reason why come August 1st I have to find my way back. Despite Marie and even my moms desire to have me home.

So, we haven't talked in a few days, which I think is weird because this means that she is mad at me because her life sucks. Who knows. I can't explain it. But I sort of worry about her. I worry that she thinks I am coming back to make things better, which I am not.

Anyway

I am reading some Michael Chabon (hence the post title). He sort of reminds me of every teacher I've ever had a crush on up until college. I don't hate the book, the writing is good but I keep searching for a plot. His description of Pittsburgh is funny and sad. I am hoping that it will grab me at some point. I won't abandon ship until I am completely submerged in crap.

Time for work.

Becks

P.S Oh yeah. I am using my aunts computer. Which means I have to wait until everyone leaves and jump on this thing when I have the chance. I miss my computer so much.

Geek Squad

My computer is dying.

Yep. So I've had this PC for 3 years. I had to get it because my other one literally shut down. The screen faded to black never to see the light of day again. Luckily my mom had the money to buy me a new one and for the last 3 years this computer has had several problems. First the adapter caught on fire, than the new adapter broke, and now in a weird turn of events my computer screen is about to fall off and it is literally being held up by library books. No lie.

I cannot explain how this happened. It's too long of a story. I believe that Michelle was playing near my computer (because I use to keep it out when I was gone) and it fell on the floor. This caused the piece that holds the screen together to break...hence my dilemma. I didn't believe this to be a problem until recently. My computer is overheating and now shuts down and yesterday I noticed video playback and general sound was a little delayed. Fuck me all to hell.

I have a warranty but believe it or not it is up June 9th. This means that my computer has to go to geek squad now in order for it to get fixed. Unfortunately I am leaving in 2 weeks, so I've decided to mail my computer home so it can get fixed there. I won't have to worry about being able to pick it up if it's there.

I will be without my computer for a few weeks (damn) but hopefully I will be able to use my aunt's or at least go to the library to use one. I have no choice but to send my baby off because I can't afford to wait and renew my warranty which would cost me a hefty $370. Can't afford that.

How did we ever live without computers. It seems completely unbearable these days. My writing may be a little sparse here for a while but I promise I'll be around.

Oh, and I got an internship for September. I emailed the Bridgeport lady and told her I would be open to interning with them in the fall (even though I didn't get the job). A few hours later she said that would be perfect. And there you have it. Hopefully this means life for me is starting to look up. I hope

Until then

Becks

Virgin Suicides.

Sorry for the small text. I sort of like it. It reflects my mood in a weird way. I feel sort of small and I want to hide under the covers, preferably because it's warm there.

You' d be embarrassed to know how I have been spending my time. It is neither productive or glamorous but nonetheless very relaxing. In two weeks I head home. Indefinitely that is. I let my bosses know this Saturday after having a hard time telling my manager Paul on Thursday.

Paul is the most amazing manager ever. He is fun and energetic and we like working with him because he doesn't give us a hard time. As Angie said "he knows we are at the bottom of the food chain and yet he treats us like a human being". Paul and I started working at the bookstore the same week. He keeps bringing this up because whenever we have the 'pleasure' of closing the store on a particularly horrid Saturday night , he looks at how messy the store is and turns to me for a game plan: 'we are in this together, partners in a non crime' he says and then we bumped fists like the obama's and get the store clean.

So I figured because we generally like each other, that he would be the easiest person to break the news too. I mean I had my excuse all planned out: 'so..a couple of weeks ago I applied to this writing workshop. It's starts june 22nd which means that I would be gone for about 6 weeks". In my head it sounded like a solid story, better than the truth (my cousin is home for the summer and is complaining about not having a room to sleep in so I kind of have to head home for awhile just until he leaves and I can beg my aunt to let me stay with her for a little while longer)

But for some reason, I couldn't get the lie out of my mouth. Every time I had the perfect opportunity to tell him I bailed. I would start with "so...Paul..." and then ask him a stupid question because the words I wanted to say wouldn't come out. By the end of the night I managed to tell him that I had something coming up soon that would affect my employment there for the summer. He seemed cool with it only because I didn't really explain I wouldn't be in the area for 6 weeks.

On Saturday before I could even psych myself out, I told the first manager I saw that I had a 6 week commitment. She looked worried, concerned and sad but I assured her that I would be back before they even knew it (which I hope to god is true!). I had to give them the dates I will be MIA for and also schedule a return date. We are shooting for August 9th. For real.

I am happy and apprehensive about heading home. I am happy that I won't have to eat frozen food anymore. That I will have a full size bed to sleep in and a lot of free time on my hands to write. My mom will be there, and my brother too and it will be nice to just have some family time with my family.

I am apprehensive about getting trapped there. That come August my aunt will not accept my plea to stay with her a little longer. I need to come back. Believe it or not the jobs are here, even if I am not fairing well in that department. The internships are here too and I am leaning towards another production company because it sort of rocked when it didn't suck.

I have too many things to think about. So many things that sleep is a luxury these days. I usually get to sleep easy, as soon as my head hits the pillow. But it's not so easy these days. There are minutes that go by of complete nothingness where I'm starring at the wall or up at the ceiling just trying to remember how to breathe.

Because of this anxiety, I am very nostalgic these days (the embarrassing but relaxing part of my life). I have been youtubing like crazy. I am going through a list of memories that unfold with each episode of some show I use to watch when I was younger. And in a way I am hoping not to relive those times but capture the essence of them. There is something about listening to "Always Be My Baby" (circa 1996) and thinking 'when the hell did i like Mariah Carey' and then remembering that I only liked her because I thought this song (at the time) captured my relationship with Nicholas (the first of my pedestal boys).

Old Nick shows are pretty much taking up my days. Bet you don't remember 'The Tomorrow People' (I've asked around no one seems to remember this show except my incredibly tv saavy friend)..I do. It was one of my favorite shows when it first came out. I think it was cancelled by the end of the first season but I loved (loved) this show and something about seeing it again soothes me.

It's geeky I know but as I continue to have no idea about the fate of future or what is in store for me, I know that my past is definite. That though the memories may be foggy they existed in some weird way. That there was this time when I was a happy functioning person yearning to grow up so I could become a happy functioning person yearning to continue on.

I'm just saying.

Time to get ready for work. Next week is employee appreciation week and we get 40% off books. I am going to buy 2 summer totes (for my mom and I) and get some old favs and new books. Recently I have noticed a lot of teenagers asking for Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. Every two days some adolescent girl strolls in with her cargo shorts and hobo bag wondering if we have any copies of the book. It's a little weird. I remember reading this book when I was a teenager too but only because the movie was coming out at the time and there was something angelic about Kirsten Dunst on the cover.

I don't remember the book having a profound affect on me. It was good but nothing more. I guess at the time I didn't understand the scope of the narrative. I'd like to re-read it though, if only to see why it seems like some textual go to for girls-on-the-verge. I mean for 40% off it's pretty much a steal.

T o the bookstore I go. What a long post.

Low.

I didn't get the job in Bridgeport.



I knew I wasn't going to but for some reason it still sort of hurt. Rejection has a way of doing that to you.



I am able to deal with disappointment on my own. I mean last year when I found out I wasn't going to grad school it was easy because I had the time to feel shitty about it and then move on from there. I am a person who internalizes everything (go figure!). I find it easier to put everything on my shoulder , hide in a corner when the stress becomes too much, and then emerge when I am ready.



This year it is a little different. My failures have been a little more public and it irks me. Yesterday I had three people waiting to hear about this Bridgeport thing. Three people waiting to tell me that 'the editor doesn't know what she's missing', 'things will pick up for you', 'I'm sorry to hear that, do you want to talk it out'. Three people to look like a complete loser in front of.



It may make no sense but I like to keep my failures to myself (well, you know what I mean) because to me failure is sort of embarrassing. I don't like people feeling sorry for me. And as a loner, I don't know how to accept shoulders to cry on.



So yesterday, before I knew that I didn't get the job, I kept getting nervous text messages and voice mails from my skittish support team. Angie with her "so did you hear anything . I'm so nervous for you. Let me know what she says the moment you hear something".



Marie wasn't as subtle: 'Did she call you', 'You need to call her if you don't hear anything soon', ' I would email her I mean she said she would contact you today and it's noon...'



The worst came from my mom. I know from experience that if you get a job, you will get a call from the employer. If you don't get a job you'll get an email. I have had my fair share of emails. Around 5 I checked my AOL account as as expected there was an email from the editor. I saw no reason to open it. I knew what it said. And I was content with it. The whole day I was okay with it , expect for when my support system kept making a deal out of it.





My mom called soon after I signed into AOL and of course she too wanted to know if I had heard anything. I told her that I received an email but there was no point in opening it. Emails only mean bad things. But she wouldn't let it drop. "Just open the email. What harm can it do. Come on. Open the email. Open the email and then call me back. Don't call me back until you open the email"



So I opened the email. Read the rejection letter and then cried. Not because I entirely wanted the job but because I didn't want to be rejected again.



When I called her back I was angry at her because she was wanted me to open the letter so bad. She couldn't just let me deal with rejection on my own. She wouldn't just let me wallow for a awhile just so I could pick myself up enough to convince everyone that I was okay.



The truth is...I am not okay. I make it seem like I have my shit together. That I am perfectly happy with Plans A, B, and C not working out. But honestly I don't know what the fuck I am doing. I don't know how to make things better or how to not feel like a complete failure. And some days I don't like pretending that everyone else is missing out poor Beckett. That my life will pick up, that I will have a job and enough money to afford things other than food. And maybe this makes me a horrible person because in front of my family and friends I am much more comfortable pretending like I am okay so they don't have to worry. Because if I admitted the truth I would see that look in their eyes that I could never live down. The look of worry and concern that I don't really want to see because I feel it every day.



I have turned off my cell phone so I don't have to talk to anyone. I just feel like disappearing for a while. I don't want to exist in the real world. I'd rather just fade away.

Spending My Time with Other Peoples Lives

Hey.



So I am not dead. I have not jumped off any high rise buildings or gassed myself in any stove ovens. I have not crawled under any unmanageable spaces and threatened never to leave. I am not rotting away in misery. That's not my style folks.



It's been a very long week or so. I went on an interview for that editorial assistant job and I have also been packing in preparation for my move back home. The interview went well, the editor said I had a sparkling personality but that my inexperience was the only problem. She will let me know today if I got the position but I am kind of hoping that I can apply for their internship program instead. They are looking for someone to start immediately and I need a break. The internship would start in August (i hope) and by then I will be ready



I am not going to lie. Some days are harder than others but for the most part I am not devastated by the grad school news. I wasn't devastated last week or the week before , but the culmination of everything this year has worn me out. The cab incident set that off, but only because I bottle stress in and then let something stupid get to me later on. I need a break from the real world...just for a little while.



I am going home for 6 weeks. I need rest. I am all worn out. I came up with some excuse (a writing workshop near home) to account for my future absence at work. They know I want to write and a few weeks wont hurt anybody. I don't know what happens after then. I have talked to some people about rooming with them in August. Angie wants me to try and find something in the Washington D.C/Maryland area where she now works. I still am obsessed with Maine.



But I'll worry about that when the time comes. Until then, I have been reading up a storm to pass the time ( in between working). Currently my days are spent reading books my co-workers deem worthy. Ryder ( Jack Keroauc Jr.) let me borrow Action Philosophers. Don't be fooled by the title, it is exactly what you would expect. Philosophy + Graphic Novels.

Kathleen currently wants me to read A Long Way Down by Nick Horny ( a book about suicide. what fun) in exchange for my book Less Than Zero (a book about disillusionment. more fun). The exchange occurs today at 2:30 in the fiction aisle of the book store, followed by cake. Yes cake because Michelle turns four today!

Brittney loaned me The Lovely Bones and Lucky by Alice Sebold last week. Rape makes me queasy and I am sort of fumbling with both novels though the writing is good. Work Michelle wants me to read It by Stephen King. But I would have to buy this book so I'm holding off on that read.

That's four books so far plus the three I am already reading The Secret History, April and Oliver, and American Psycho. Luckily I blow through books like I blow through sweets (very fast) and in no time I will have these read. Other people's lives are becoming a little more interesting than my own these days.

So yeah. Not dead or dying.

I'm just...

The Last Straw.

I just walked home. At 1:30 in the morning. Because I was on call and had to come in today to close.

But towards the shift it started to rain. And after a horrible time making a messy store look not so messy, I called a cab ARROW CABS, to be precise, to pick me up. After waiting 20 minutes for the cab to come, some guy from out of no where gets in.

So I, tired-dejected-rejected...go up to the car before they can leave together and voice my concern. That I was the one standing out here for a long time, I was the one who called twice to ask where the hell my cab was, and that this asshole address is not the one she was sent to pick up.

She knows this. Because after I tell her where I am going she turns to him and goes "did you call cab". He lies and says he did. That he called this specific cab. She says "oh" and then looks as if she doesn't know what to do. Even though I am her FARE. I am the one who she is suppose to be picked up. So you know what she does. She asks me to wait for the next one. As if that will make it any better.

I slam the door, mouthing an "Ok douches" and start walking in the rain. They get stuck at a light, and just as I pass she realizes how fucked up this is. That some straight out of the oven, minty fresh, douche bag is not her fare and that me, worn out-dejected-rejected-crooked edges is her damn Fare.

"oh miss" she yells from across the street"come in. come in the cab". But I can't because there are tears forming and I am too mad and proud to get in. So I tell her I will walk. All the way up the hill, past the cemetery and the law school to my 'house'. I think I tell her this. I wish I told her this. When the light turns green they turn the corner briskly and out of sight and then I cry the whole way home because even though I am dealing with this graduate school thing well....for some reason it mattered today.

For some reason all of the bad from this past year, mattered. It mattered that my nephew I never got to know and love died. That my mom and brother are dealing with their grief separately with food or alcohol. That Marie is so miserable in small town USA I worry for her. That my dad needs me to be the daughter I don't know how to be. That my aunt is an idiot who has raised and is raising selfish children. That I was rejected from grad school, from my own Alma mater which makes me feel like god hates me. Because the shit never stops. There is never a moment where it gets an easier. Never a pause button so I can take a snack break and come back to all the action. It just unfolds rapidly and without care.

So it mattered tonight that ARROW CABS left me at my job to walk home so some guy who never has anything bad happen to him could get home to his nice life where babies don't die suddenly for no reason, where someone stops being an aunt and a father and a grandma all in one day. Where schools accept bright girls for their MFA programs and where there are enough pause buttons for him to evaluate or not evaluate taking a cab away from a girl and where hs cabbie foes not have to evaluate breaking a cabbie rule: take the fare you are given.

So it mattered to night with each painful step home. It fucking mattered. And it was easy for all of it to matter because in the rain who can really decipher tears from drops that fall from the sky.

And the Ball Drops.

I didn't get in.

Enough said.

?????

Yesterday I half-heartily applied to an PT editorial assistant job in Bridgeport CT. It was a complete fluke. I was just sick of tired of waiting around for my grad letter to come, so I decided to do a job search. I still have not heard anything back from grad school which is really beginning to take a toll on me. It has been four weeks since I turned in my application. Four weeks that I have been contemplating whether my ok grad, ok gre scores and story will be enough.


Because I go back and forth between school and the 'real world' I thought it would be good to start a job search. See what sort of stuff I would qualify for this time around. So that's sort of what I've been doing. However, I was still very shocked when I received a call today from a position I applied to yesterday. She wants to interview me and see if I am right for the position. It is only part time, and it is an hour away but it's in publishing. And believe or not it is for the romance department. I get to read smut all day long. Kind of awesome.



But on a more realistic note there is NO WAY that I can take this position (if she offers it to me after our interview next friday). My lease has pretty much run out at my aunt's house, and I don't know about the whole traveling everyday thing. More importantly, I really want to go to school. And I am praying (yes, actually praying. What a goddamn hypocrite I know) that I will be attending school in fall.



I have been calculating this bridgeport thing in my head ever since she called. And all I can think about is traveling expenses, whether my aunt will let me stay in her house any longer, whether I can handle working there if I am only making part time money which will not afford me an apartment and plus I hear bridgeport sucks...hardcore. This is weird. When I first came here I never got a call back from the publishing jobs I applied to, and now I am qualified to pursue publishing but I don't actually want to do that right now.



What to do? What to do? I am hoping beyond hope that i get some word back from grad school on the status of my application. I want to move forward but I do not know if this is the direction i particularly want to take. This was not the news I was hoping to hear about this week, surprising indeed but not particularly what I was waiting for.



What the hell am I doing with my life.

The Real World Was Pleasant Yesterday.

No shit.

Next week is my last day at the internship. For some reason I am very sad about this. I can bitch and moan about the internship because it's my internship. I can curse Lenny out in my mind because he is my Lenny. And I can laugh at and with Adam (the IT guy who got me off that damn roof) because he is my geeky tech guy who I have come to like more than I should. Because sometimes when we are talking, our faces get too close for my comfort and I get this sudden urge to lean forward into him, just because...

Yesterday morning I came into work and Lenny was super excited because he got an email from one of the models for the documentary we are working on. Her agent contacted him and set up a day that Lenny and the model can talk. It was nice seeing his reaction, because I had spent so much time researching said Model and now he has an interview with her. Things are happening with this documentary that i have spent 5 months on and for some reason I am very excited about this.

The truth is, I like my job there. I have figured out my role in the production world and I like it. When I am not being the goffer, I am mainly the research person. This means if Lenny wants to know every and anything about Iquitos, Peru I compile as much information as I can for him so he doesn't have to do it. I get to read a lot of cool shit, I get to search the web like a detective and when all is said and done I compile my info into a nice word presentation that I print and send to him via email. I was born for that. And if they would hire me to do that everyday, I would accept. Accept. Accept.

Yesterday, I got into the elevator [with the] guy who was fixing the air conditioner. For a few seconds we were really silent but than all of a sudden he wanted to ask me questions about what we did there. When I told him we made movies his eyes lit up and he started talking about how cool my job was. I was about to explain to him that I didn't actually work there (work entitles a paycheck, and I am not getting paid) but I didn't see any reason to. He then asked me how one would go about getting a job there. ???. I told him that it just depends on when they need the help and what you have to offer to the production company. I also didn't see any reason to explain that they really only have about 3 people working there, and that everyone else is an intern. Why let a man down so early in the morning.

After this encounter though, I too realized how cool my job is. How cool everyone's job is there. I still have no idea what they do or how they do it. But for the most part it is a bunch of 20 something year old people walking around with Mac computers wearing clothes that cost more than me. Trust me they get some work done, but they look happy doing it even when they don't get the budget they want for a film, even when they have to negotiate time for money, even when they are on the phone with the guy who is paying for all of this.

They still have an amazing gig. Creating art through film.

It was a nice sunny day yesterday, and I went on my normal snack run around noon. The weather makes everyone happier and even though Soho is a big neighborhood there was something quaint about it when I strolled back to work 30 minutes later. There was something completely amazing about the city in a whole. That this is the place where people come to find and or lose themselves in. And for a solid moment, just before I headed inside, I began to regret my decision to leave.

If the situation were better (job, money, and an apartment I could afford) I would stay. Angie and I talked about New York a lot and how there is a tension in this place that nearly suffocates you. Joan Didion says New York is only for the young. Some say New York is for the strong willed. I have yet to figure out what New York is for me. Sometimes it is all of the above, sometimes it is not. But yesterday, New York was a place I did not want to leave. A place that I could create myself in. There is a part of me that has no idea where I will be in 5 years. A part of me where the future is neither dark nor light. It is sort of ambivalent place where I hope I reside. But as I took in Soho, I was hit with a flash flood of possibilities for me there. That I could be one of those people having a nice afternoon in Soho because I had a life there which I had created for myself out of nothing. And this thought caused me to regret having to leave.

In a weird way I don't want to leave. I want to see where I could be in another year here. I feel like I've learned so much already, and I fear leaving prematurely.

Anyway. I have to close tonight. Yuck. Not looking forward to the hoard of teenagers fucking up the store.

Oh, and Cat Power is driving me crazy. Where was she four years ago. Or where was I that I never heard of her until now.

Swine Flu Care Package?

So on Friday my mom said was mailing me a 'special' package.

As i wait around for some word on grad school, telling me about any special packages is not such a good idea. I imagined it was going to be my acceptance or rejection letter in the mail. That she had received the letter on Monday or Tuesday of last week, and decided to surprise me with goodies along with the letter.

This is what I expected because it is what I wanted. In some weird way. Even if it's a rejection letter, I will at least have some closure on this thing. But of course the package (because it arrived today) turned out to be...a Swine Flu Care Package. No lie.

I should take a picture of this thing. Neatly packed over some newspaper is a dozey of hand sanitizers (should the epidemic become too strong?), alcohol wipes (pocket size, should I venture outside of my house into the post-apocalyptic world of the H1n1 virus), and cookies. Yes gingerbread man cookies (should worrying about the virus make me hungry).

It's pretty hilarious.

So my grad school worrying continues as I wait for some news on what the hell I am going to do in the next few months. But at least I have all these precautionary items to last me through the year.

That's what moms are for.

It's A Sunday Thing

So yesterday I was on call. This means that I get to wait around all day until a manager calls (around 4) to see if I am needed or not. Being on call usually means I don't have to work but there are some days when they do ask, and expect, you to come in if they need you.

I wasn't terribly in a good mood yesterday (allergies) so when 4 came around and no one call I sort of put my phone on vibrate and prayed that they wouldn't need me to help close the store. I thought I was in the clear until I got a call from work at 7. I answered only because I need the money and if that means dragging my snotty ass to work..well then so be it. But my manager was not calling for that. She wanted to know if I could take Lisa's schedule on Sunday because she is moving into a new place. Lisa was scheduled to work 10-6, I was only scheduled to work 6-closing. So naturally I told my manager that I would have no problem taking Lisa's time.

It's been rainy the last couple of days which is weird because last week it was 90 degrees. Friday it was a deadly shade of grey outside and the clouds sort of hoovered. Luckily Lenny and the French dude did not send me running all over the place, because by 2pm the rain came pouring down. Today it was pretty much the same, grey and cloudy. You would think this would keep people inside. But no. Not in Westchester county where parents have more time on their hands then should be allowed. Today was a weird chaotic mess of people who didn't want to keep their children inside and people who should have stayed inside.

There is this regular customer-I use that term lightly- There is this regular guy who comes into the store with a huge disco colored shopping bag. It is the most ostentatious thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life, and the first time I saw him walking around the store I could only think to myself "what a weird thing to use as a purse". It goes beyond a purse, it is this ugly yellow bag you would get at some party store. Putting two and two together we quickly figured out that this guy is really a kleptomaniac and the bag is where he stuffs all his shit. Every time him and his yellow bag comes in we are on high alert. It's sort of funny because the bag draws so much attention to him. When the store lights hit the bag it glitters and could literally cause a glare. Our heads turn, we whisper "oh shit the bag guy is here" and then take turns asking him if he needs help while peering into his bag. I think his bag holds the secret of the world in it.

Anyway, it was my turn to follow him around today. But for a bag guy, he is pretty quick. One minute I had the glare of the sparkly shopping bag in my view the next I couldn't find the guy for the longest time. By the time I did see him he was near the exit. Someone says he has weird padding in the bag and that's why he can stuff crap in it without the alarm going off. Nevertheless he is one of the more interesting guys who comes in. And in some weird way we look forward to seeing him because then we have something to do for a while.

I am super nervous about telling my managers that I will be leaving June 1st. I have finally decided on a date. I will get to celebrate Michelle's birthday and enjoy my last days in Westchester before I head home to Small Town USA. I have been conflicted about this in many ways. I love my job. I love the people I work with. And for the most part it is an easy gig. So yes, I have to keep listening to people ask for books like To Kill A Mockingbird without knowing who the author is. And I admit it, I give them a "it's Harper Lee you asshole" look before taking them to the book. So maybe I have to pretend like I care about a book I will never read as a customer goes on and on about how I should read it because it will change my life. But, I love my job. In a weird way. I do.

I never had a job in high school. My mom never pushed the issue on me and I never wanted to make money. Seriously. I barely know what to do with the money I make now. So in a weird way my time at the Bookstore has been a fun high school-isque job where I spend more time talking to my work buddies then helping customers. This does not mean that I do not take book selling seriously but there are often times when I am talking to one of my 'friends' and a customer comes up to us as if we should drop everything to attend to them and all I want to do is turn to the customer lingering at the desk tapping their fingers on the counter and tell them 'hey can you come back in a few. I'm sort of talking here'.

I will miss that.

My mom wants me to take a plane home because I will get to my house in a New York Minute. But I am not a fan of planes. In a weird way I would like to leave this place just like I entered it...on a train looking out the window feeling like I have so much possibility. It will be a long train ride but I wouldn't mind. I could get my own little room, and not have to fight over the window seat. It will give me time to think and process the last 8-9 months of my life. I could read and stare out the window and just breathe...something I have not done in a very long time.

I keep forgetting how nice it is to do that everyone once in a while.

Time to read. I am on my third Bret Easton Ellis novel. I may be a little obsessed. I flew through The Informers and Less Than Zero, but I am not really feeling American Psycho. I want to get into it, but for some reason I just keep putting it down. I have the whole week off and I should make a dent in it. I think I should also start working on some more stories. I hate when people walk into the store asking for writing books as if reading "how to get write a novel for dummies" makes them a writer all of a sudden. I should just start a whole new journal called "that irks me" because if writing is so difficult for me how can some guy or girl off the street come into the store looking for those books, get it done? I can't fathom it being that easy.

A Nation of Fear

I have an admirer at work. He is a usual. Some one who comes in to the bookstore so much he minus well have a cot in the break room and make a home for himself there.

A couple of a months ago I was walking down the aisle when said admirer asked me for help. He was trying to find a history book (American Riffles) that he wanted to purchase for his friend. We didn't have the book in stock so I said I could order him a copy and it would come in the store in a few days. During this time we chatted about everything. He was sort of smitten with me because I spoke well and was eager to help him. I was curious about him because he liked history. Did I mention that he is older then my mom. I should have mentioned that. He is well in his 60's but looked pretty young for his age.

As we were talking he seemed convinced that I was this bright intelligent person. I don't know where he got that idea from. He kept complementing and telling me that if he was 40 years younger he would be the happiest man in the world having known me. And all the jazz. It was very flattering and after I completed his order we wished each other goodbye.

A few days later his book came in, and once again there was this weird flirtation thing. Mainly him complementing me and me trying not to get all embarrassed. When he left he talked about me to the guys in the music department. I know this only because they told me about it later on. He gushed about me. Said I was goddess (Swear.To.Bob) and that he wished he was young enough to date me. It was weird but nice and that day I got a prize from my managers because of my superb customer service! All in all he is a really nice guy. Maybe a little lovestruck but you need that every once in a while.

So after about a month (or two) he strolls into today out of the blue. They put me up at the cash register (which I hate) today and I was literally daydreaming when I heard someone call my name. When I looked up, it was him. The nice but slightly weird older guy. He said that he hadn't seen me in a while and that he was happy to run into me. Not use to this type of a attention I am sort of happy to see him too. Not because I have any interest in the old guy but it's nice having someone interested in you. Now, the old guy is weird on many levels. When I talked to him that first day he sort of was going on and on about the 60's. Apparently he was a hippie and times have changed since the peace and love generation. He wanted me to know this, because even though I am 23 he knew that I was an old soul and understood everything that he was talking about.

Then he started talking about his fears of the present day. Which wasn't totally unusual because well...it's been a rough couple of years. But when I saw him today and listened to him go on and on again about the economic crisis, global warming and as he put it 'the end of civilization as we know it' I started to think that maybe the guy who has a crush on me, the guy who is a very attractive older man (that I could and would never date) could be a little bit crazy. Or paranoid. Or a survivalist?!?!

I am leaning towards a survivalist because then he started talking about having to arm ourselves when it got too bad and civilization collapsed all together. I listened quietly, voiced some superficial concerns and became captivated by how he transferred his fear unto me. It was not just about him anymore but about me and how I would have to live through this shit because I am young and yadda yadda. It was weird, how paranoid and pessimistic he was about life and about the future. And if I was a gullible person I would have been like 'yeah. times are tough take me to your weird cabin in the woods where we will survive off of berries and crazy manifestos'.

But I'm not gullible. And I am not really into eating berries, so I just wished him and his survivalist self a good day. After this encounter I had a few more conversations with customers who were voicing their opinions on the state of the world. And I realized that we as a nation, as a society are guided by our fears. We live by them. There isn't a day that goes by where we aren't bombarded with news coverage on a new epidemic or economic crisis that threatens the way we live our lives. And though these are legit concerns I don't think we should be building bomb shelters yet or colonizing in the woods waiting for the big one to come.

I don't know. This irks me for some reason. That fear governs our perceptions. That we are a terrified nation or generation instead of a resilient one. I am reading a lot of Bret Easton Ellis these days (totally finished Less Than Zero, now working on Rules of Attraction) and I often contemplate how to define the generation that I am apart of. And in a weird way, it's a generation defined by fear, terrified into inactivity, and just waiting for the rug to be pulled from under us.

I'd rather not live my life that way. It's just not for me.

Anyway. I emailed lenny today and put in my two week notice. I will have been there for almost 5 months and I feel like this is the right time for me to make my exit. I have done all that I can do and in a small way I appreciate my time there. But the end (not in the weird apocalyptic way) is coming. I mean I can feel it at my job and at my aunts house too. That I am transitioning into a new phase and slowing wishing this place goodbye. It doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels quite right. That there is this change coming, this window that is open only for a small period of time that will whisk me away to my new adventure. And if I don't step through it, if I don't utilize this opening now....then I will never have known my full potential.

Time for bed. I have a long day tomorrow. I need to take more pictures of the city. It's a beautiful place that I will miss.

"She Waits, Seething, Blooming"

I think I should title all my entries after stories (short and novel lenght) that I am reading these days. They are way more interesting then the ones I come up with on my own.

It's going to be 90 degrees here. OMG! I am on-call today which means I either get to sit in or near the sun and read a book all day OR go to work and sweat to death in a building that does not have air conditioning. Though I desperately need the hours (and money!) , I am hoping for the lounging day. I have my book already picked out (Less Than Zero) I already have my drink made (ice cold lemonade) and I have claimed my spot (any and everywhere).

Work has been crazy lately and my hours are being slashed drastically. Next week I am clocking in...count em'...TEN hours. This will not help me in any way, shape or form. I can't help but take a personal offense to the slashing of my hours, especially when I look at everyone else's. I mean everyone is suffering but at the end of the day I am the only one working 2 days next week. I know it has nothing to do with my job performance and more to do with the fact that I haven't complained about needing more hours or having huge financial responsibilities. I take my hours in stride part grateful that I have them and ambivalent towards not having them. But at the same time I would like to make money and working TEN HOURS sort of deprives me of that.

Angie may have told a co-worker that I plan on leaving at the end of may. On Sunday I came into work and Linda (a very nosey person) asked me why I was planning to leave?!?!?!. This sort of took me aback because I hadn't talk to anyone about this except Angie and I hate putting something out there that may or may not be true. I told her I wasn't sure, I have some waiting to do before I can make any sort of decision like that. But she looked sad. And spent the whole day hanging around me as if i was quiting that day.

My Uncle says plans are stupid. And though I do not like agreeing with him... he has a point. Plans never work out the way you want them too and because of this I have scaled back on the planing aspect of my life. That's what happened when I came here. I planned on becoming an editorial assistant, commuting from New Haven to New York. I planned on getting a car and staying with my aunt for a few months until I got settled. Clearly that did not work out. I had to adjust the plans quickly maybe for the better maybe not. In that sense I am sort of pissed that Angie talked to someone about a plan not even set in stone. That now it is forcing something into action. I don't want people asking questions about when I plan on leaving or why I plan on grad school working out. I literally am refusing to make any intricate plans outside of what will I do today or what book/short story should I read or write.

Thinking beyond that is too much for me. It's just too much. I want to enjoy whatever time i have left here. I will start that enjoyment by having a nice reading day. Enough said.

" I'm Going Going, Back-Back, to Cali Cali!"

Angie is officially moving back to Kansas this Wednesday. Argh!!!

After struggling to make it in this place for a whole year, things just haven't panned out in her favor. She lost her job in November, got a job at the Bookstore in December but has been unable to find anything to help her pay for rent, food, and sanity.

She has seriously been my BFF here, and often times we talk about how easy it was for us to just be friends. After training her the first day at work, we quickly decided we liked each other. I think we may have even said "so, we are like friends now?" "yeah, pretty much". Ever since then we have hung out, had a amazing academic and life discussions, laughed our asses off, and bitched. At this point I couldn't imagine the last few months without her. I mean we threw an Obama Party with cupcakes and chips. Amazing!

A part of me is sad that my only friend is leaving. I mean I know a lot of people here and I am not going to be lonely without her. But it will be different. Our late night drives have come to a close and no more eating out at all those damn restaurants (I'm okay with this one. My wallet has suffered because of this). But that part of me that is sad is very slim. I know that Angie and I will be friends for life, and because of this I am not so distraught. She is moving back with her parents while she waits to hear from two jobs that she has applied and interviewed for.

She went to school for library science, so she is applying to places that need an archivist (her official title). In a surprising turn some weeks ago a job she half heartily applied to, NB-Motherf*cking-C!, called about a potential job offer. The position is located in Los Angeles (which she wasn't initially a fan of but that quickly changed) and she would get to do archiving work for NBC. The other job is in DC, but in comparing the two positions and location....Los Angeles is just way cooler.

I have been in a Bret Easton Ellis mood lately. Which is weird because I have never read Bret Easton Ellis and after having read a book by him a Bret Ellis mood could mean a lot of things. I usually do not read books that are being turned into movies. If I wasn't interested in the book before I don't see the draw of reading it when a movie comes out on the book. It's just not my thing. But for some reason I have been drawn to The Informers. I have no intention of seeing the movie but I figured the book would be a great introduction to him ( I don't know if I can read American Psycho yet or ever). And let's just say...I love the book. Every chapter is a new character interconnected with other characters. They are raw, honest, and products of a shallow and unforgiving society. I love it. I love everything about it. And now I am in a weird California mood. I want to lounge on a beach, read, write, wear sandals and wallow in the bane of my own existence for a while. I couldn't do that every day, but it would be a grand vacation.

So when Angie told me about California, I was all on that idea. She had the interview on Tuesday and should she get another in person interview, Cali might be her new destination which would be awesome because then I would have a friend to visit in California. I am very excited for her.

As for me, no news yet. I have decided to do some of that breathing stuff and take it one day at a time. This grad school, plan A, worry here worry there thing, is making me forget about my sense of adventure. That i want a cool and interesting and fulfilling life. I want to take a lot of risks, I want to see everything and I have to keep that in mind. That the fine shade of gray that I am straddling is not so bad. It could be where I find myself or lose myself or figure myself out. And what's so wrong with that.

I am starting Glamorama today (and also Child of my Heart by Alice McDermott). I am still in a reading frenzy, which is kind of relaxing. I've decided to do some clothes shopping today (because the weather is hot and I still have only sweaters to wear) and maybe grab some lemonade for my day. This California state of mind is working (for now) I minus well ride the high while I can.

Dear Dr. Seuss

...the 'waiting place' sucks. I just wanted to remind you.

-Becks-

Unsettled....

I'm nervous. Very nervous.

As I mentioned, my grad school shit is done. Last Saturday I mailed off everything to my Alma mater. It was last minute of course. The application was due April 15th (Wednesday) I finished my story around April 8th, and then spent a few days revising and being very particular about stuff.

Though I have been very apprehensive about grad school, and have told myself several times not to put all my eggs in one basket...in all honesty I need this plan to work out. I don't know what I would do with myself for another year. I obviously can't stay in New York ( working at the bookstore and living with my aunt) I don't want to live with my mom for a year in small town USA, but I don't know if I can find a well paying job to live on my own for a while in another state. At least in school, I will have two more years to strengthen my weaknesses, network, and make up for my slack undergraduate career. I also won't have to worry about loan payments or worse....budgeting to the max.

I should hear something back soon. Probably the beginning of may. They will mail my acceptance or rejection letter to my moms house and then....who knows.

I am very antsy because I know a change is coming. I just don't know where this change will take me. Sometimes I am completely confident. Even if I don't get into grad school I know I am smart enough, bright enough, and strong enough to try my hand at something else. But some days, like today, I am apprehensive. Unsettled. A huge mess. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know if I am brave enough to conquer the "real world" and I want to take a huge break from it all. I want to fold into myself and stay enclosed until I an strong enough to return. That could take days, weeks, or even months. Just to recuperate and try again.

I talked to my dad the other day. It's been 2 months. I did not even try to make up excuses as to why I hadn't called him in a while. I have been a very busy person. I can barely find the time to relax. But he didn't care about any of that. He wanted to know if I was okay. That not knowing is worse than anything. We talked for a while and I heard some of the same things over and over again. But at the part where he expresses that he wants only for me to be 'happy in life", he neglected to say that. Instead he said he wanted me to take as many risks as i can and to not let fear get in my way.

????

I think he might be a psychic. The real world sucks. I mean there is nothing glamorous about it. But at the same time, whether I go to grad school or not, I have to continue to make a life for myself. That is proving to be the hardest thing of all. I try to not think about it sometimes just so I can give myself a rest.

Anyway. Enough of that for now.

There has been quite a shake up a work. The Janitor was fired. Hours are being cut so drastically I feel a mutiny coming. Angie's last day is Thursday. Every one's super tense and attacking one another with verbal quips. When it's fun at work, it's fun. When it's not, we all feel it. Yesterday Lisa, someone I usually get along with well, was in a foul mood. She was jumping down every one's throat and taking offense to the stupidest thing. My boss was working at the computer I was standing near and said "Lisa is apparently not talking to me". I asked her why, and she said she didn't know but that she just felt like Lisa was mad at her.

My boss, the vegan from California who wears leather, is awesome. She is super nice and we all call her Sunshine because she is so happy, but not in that annoying way. So to see her upset was weird. And to see Lisa pissed was weird. So I said "I think Lisa's just in a bad mood" I mean sometimes people just don't feel like talking. Lisa was standing right near me as I said this comment and a couple of minutes later she came up to me and said 1) that i read depressing books (because I was going to buy the book 'We need to talk about Kevin) and 2) "Stop going around and telling people that I am in a bad mood. I feel FINE!"

I sort of just shrugged my shoulders as she walked away...clearly in a foul, bad mood. Whatever. I have to let them know, in May, that i leaving soon. I like my co-workers, and sometimes I like my job but I see how easy it is to get trapped there. Especially with some of the fears I have about the next few months. But fear at this point is like stagnation and I'd rather risk it all then settle for comfort.

Time to get ready for work. I am only clocking in 3 days this week. I need to get the F*ck out of this place.

I'm Not Dead...

Just tired.

Very tired. I sent in all my grad school stuff last Saturday, and have spent the better part of my week stressing, de-stressing, a lot of sleeping combined with a lot of reading. I wanted to take time away from writing just so I could re-group and relax.

I have no idea if I will be accepted. It is the only grad school I applied to so I just have to wait and worry. I fluctuate between wanting to go to grad school and not. I wonder if taking some 5 week workshops would teach me all that I need to know. I worry about going back to small town USA for the next two years. I worry about not going back to small town USA and what I will do if I don't get accepted. Maybe I could move to Maine. Who knows. That is how my brain has been working these days.

A real post soon. I promise.

First work, and then hanging out with Angie who is moving back to Kansas in two weeks. My only real friend is leaving. This kind of sucks. The winds of change are a blowing. I don't feel prepared for where it will take me.

Near the End

This song By Pete Yorn (from an album I did not like when I was 15, but that at 23 I cannot stop listening too) has been playing all day as I near the end of my story. Near the end. If you knew what I went through yesterday (more tears, and tantrums) you'd know how far from that reality that was just 24 hours ago.

It has potential. It's not nearly the story I want it to be. But it has potential. And with revision and help, it could be something. Potential. A word that I highlighted in the personal statement I finished today over and over again.

Here's to nearing the end, but not in that all so consuming drowning sort of way. Here's to finishing a story that i don't completely hate. A story that has potential. That's more than I can say about a lot of things these days.

Seeing A Pattern?

I am sending out my grad shit on Thursday. Not that I am any closer to finishing this story then I was last week but I have to send something. And potential is better then blank pages.

As I struggle to finish, I am realizing a sort of pattern. When it comes to story writing and deadlines I may or may not wait until the last minute crying my eyes out at odds hours in the night while I develop severe headaches that make me believe I am having an aneurysm only to realize that it's anxiety preventing me from writing a story and nothing more.

I bought a cool book a few weeks back called A Writer's Space: Make Room to Dream, to Work, to Write. It's actually pretty good. I'm not one for self help books, but this one teaches you about separating your conscious self from your writing self in order to write creatively. I had to read it last night, while I was panicking again because well...I always panic.

I put too much weight into everything and because of this I procrastinate and freak out. Marie and my mom have been a great support as I struggle to finish this story but the truth is they have their reasons for this invested interest in the completion of my story They both want me to be closer to them for a few more years so I can take away some part of their loneliness. Writing of course, again, has become an all too daunting task to think about.

I can't wait til this crap is out of my hands and sent off. But even then, if I get accepted will the next two years be this filled with anxiety? Or will I somehow learn to overcome all my mental road blocks and just learn how to write freely and without all the pressure?

I don't know but a miracle needs to happen in the next two days. That's all I'm saying.