Dinos' in the Morning!

More Dino Pics!

Obviously I wont be able to load all 100 pictures (it was a long day) but here are some of my favorites.

I wanted to get to the museum before the crowd, but I forgot that NYC everyday is a busy place. There were a lot of school children, and parents, and frightened kids there but it wasn't that bad. Because I am writing a story about a field trip though, I could not help but turn my attention to the awe struck school kids.

Outside of the yelling, and occasionally fighting they were delightful little beings. I mean seeing a kid stare into the 'face' of TRex and then roar, priceless! And they still use the damn buddy system, which amazed and pleased me because hand holding is a huge part of my story. Huge! And these kids were glued to their buddy whether they wanted to be or not.

But back to the dinos:

I can't decided which dinosaur I liked the best. I mean they were all flipping amazing. I of course gravitated towards the Triceratops because I have a toy one in my room. I know it's childish but I found it at work 2 months ago and he (george, because I name everything george) has been my bedside companion since. There is something so definitively strong and protective about Mr. Triceratops, and I made an attempt to run into him first.

But I was struck by how many dinos on display that I never could have imagined in my whole entire world. Like this mofo here:

Is he a deer? A hybrid winged animal? I do not know. Okay, I do kind of know thanks to some footnotes I made. He's a Megalocerous, the largest deer from the prehistoric era. Damn right he's the largest deer. I would not want to run into him on the road. But I do wonder what he would have looked like back in the day. All fleshed out and stuff. I was standing next to a guy who had the same puzzled look on my face, and we both parted soon after to digest the sight.

The stegosaurus was another gem. The curvature in it's back is amazeballs, and look at those spikes! I mean come on.

There were too many dinos to look at, and I spent 90 minutes checking out each display. I was drawn to the smaller dinosaurs, the ones that exclusively stayed in herds for protection, and was intrigued by them. My friend mentioned Deinoychus, which are smaller dinosaurs defined by their hunting skills, and I eventually found them in some corner. Compared to the bigger bones, these guys were tiny but deadly. I loved them

And then there was this fellow:

the awkward turtle. He was floating in the sky and I wanted to rub his belly.

Now that I've been to the museum I have to start working on this story. It's my whole reason for going. The whole time I was there, I took notes in my composition notebook in order to remember feelings, sights, and other sense related things to be conscious of. I have a tentative name for the story, In Our Genes, based on a display in the Hall of Human Origins.

The story really has more to do with that hall then the dinosaurs (pics to come soon!) but regardless the trip was necessary for inspiration. Mission Accomplished.

Now time to write, and do some research on film workshops. I am tempted to look at ones in the UK despite the financial worries. But a part of me is saying "fuck worries, do something extraordinary and scary. do it. do it'.

Do You Wanna Come With Me?

I'm beginning to feel that ever present lump in my throat. The lump urging me to do something more with my life: travel, love, learn, explore...adventure!

I had a brilliant day yesterday. Seeing dinosaurs was awesome and relaxing, a lot more relaxing than one would think standing in front of a Tyrannosaurus. The truth is, I needed a break from my normal routine. I almost didn't go yesterday. I woke up and tried to talk myself out of it. But before I could go back to sleep and wake up at some awful hour (noon some days) I remembered that I never have days to myself. When I'm not worrying about loans, and the endless job search I am at work or worse napping the day away.

I just needed a day where I didn't have to think of anything except dinosaurs and hominids named Lucy. I needed a day to myself where I got to snap pictures and take notes in my notebook. I needed a day where I wasn't myself, where I could step outside of the worries and breathed.

But that was yesterday and of course, today I am back to normal. I woke up, braced myself for job searches and futile naps. I am beyond restless in New York. When I was in the city, I had a sense of freedom. I thought 'hey, this is what I came here for'. But rarely am I able to make my way to the city, even when I want to.

I want to run away from it all, and as a person prone to escapism it's looking like a mighty good plan. But in all honesty I am at a fork. I don't really know what to do with myself or more importantly where to go. I have plans that are definite of course (writing, finding a workshop) but everything else is up in the air. I feel like I have taken some plunge into a very deep whole, but I have not hit the bottom yet. I am floating (perhaps like Alice) wondering where I will end up and how long it will take me to get there.

And this feeling is scary, because I am a very impulsive person or at least I want to be. I vacillate between staying here for a little longer. Doing the job search until I can't come up with new ways to describe my awesomeness. I then think about going back to school. Hell, I don't know how I'd pay for it but I could get the training in production I need while also being able to write. Being in school again would be great outside of taking out more loans and of course paying them back.

And then, a big then, I think about going away for a while. For crossing the pond and exploring some options there. A workshop maybe, a graduate program. Who knows.

Everyone has been telling me to watch Dr. Who for the longest time. I'm not really into sci-fi but I'm all down for watching new thing. In regards to sci-fi though my mind tends to resist aliens, dimensions and dare I say the laws of time and space. But on Saturday a new Dr.Who premiered with, of course, a new doctor. I was worried that because I had not previously seen the ninth or tenth one that I wouldn't understand what the hell was going on.

And for the most part I didn't. The British talk really fast and I'm still a little confused by his mode of transportation (a police booth called a TARDIS) but the moment the eleventh incarnation of the doctor appeared on tv, I was hooked for some odd reason. I mean, this tall gangly British guy lands in some garden only to meet a girl (age 7) who will later become his companion (when she is 21) on his amazing adventures.

The companion thing is what really gets me. It's get lonely out there in space, and the Doctor (because he can) chooses people to be his companion throughout the series. For the most part the 'companions' are women who play humanize the doctor and his adventures. And the story line for this new doctor and his new companion (Amanda pond) was brilliant. It is her garden which he first appears. She is 7 years old when she first meets him and is amazed by the figure who appears out of nowhere, and changes her life.

But he leaves her unexpectedly. For '5 minutes' he promises, only to return 14 years later when she is 21. Time travel and space are tricky. But she has waited for him since she was a little girl, and despite anger towards him for not returning in 5 minutes, his return is her beginning to an a adventure of a lifetime.

And I must admit that part got to me. I was sitting there, glued to the tv until the last 5 minutes of the show, where he finally asks the very adult (well 21) and attractive Amanda Pond to come along with him. On the adventure of a lifetime! And she does, because who wouldn't.

And I can't help but see myself at 24 still waiting for something, some event, some weird looking British guy in a police booth to to change my life. To imitate the beginning of my adventure. And it hasn't happened yet, not even close to happening. And I just want to runaway from this life, and find myself somewhere new.

And I've been watching the BBC all week, and I want to go to the UK so badly. I don't even know what I'd find or do there, but dammit all to hell it would be some adventure wouldn't it. But how do I put thoughts into action. How can I make any of this a reality. Hence the fork, and the random BBC America marathons.

And if ever such a doctor approached me with promises of adventure I would go with him in a heartbeat. I am ready for adventure, I am ready to start my life because I am sick of this waiting. And Matt Smith is a strangely attractive, disturbingly nerdy British guy of my dreams.

I Saw'd Me Some Dinosaurs!

So I did it. I went to the city today and saw dinosaurs. Lots of them.

I wanted to put these pics up before I go showing them elsewhere (facebook). I had an amazing, lovely day.

It was really crowded inside, but for the most part it was an awesome good day. I started on the fourth floor, where I met the dinosaurs and worked my way down to first floor where I encountered the stars.

The dinosaurs themselves exceeded my expectations. The museum infuses real and faux bones to reconstruct what dinosaurs look like. They were mammoth creatures who have stolen my heart. I gasped at this fellow.

The exhibit that really stole the show though was the human origin one. Jeepers people, I cried. It was too beautiful for words. Our origins are traced back billions of years, and I encountered the two bipedal (early) hominids, holding hands behind the glass partition.

Holding hands! It was too lovely for words, and I got all choked up and I tried to take a picture but I couldn't seem to get a good angle. And then I realized I had my story, because of two early human beings holding hands.

I will of course post more pictures later, the trip has taken a lot out of me (that's the introvert part I despise. Sheer exhaustion from external interactions) but I had an amazing day!

Will write later. Now time for a nap

RAWR!

Guess who is going to see some dinosaurs on Monday!

I've been planning this trip for a very long time. I'm not going to lie, I wasn't into dinosaurs when I was a kid. Outside of the Power Rangers referencing them every Saturday, I didn't pay much attention to the dinosaur lessons in school. Not because they aren't cool or anything, but I didn't really see the point.

Of course now at 24, because I'm a late bloomer, Dinosaurs fucking rock my world. I can't get enough of them. But I am going to the museum for reasons outside of my new fond appreciation. It has more to do with story writing.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm writing a short story. I know I still have the Peru story to write, and that screenplay to compose but short stories are fun. Josh, dude at work, proclaims that he is a writer and because I like him to pieces I don't really question him. I mean, I think that I am a writer too. I don't go around introducing myself as one like he does but I do write.

A couple of weeks ago he came to me uber excited because he said he was getting published in some journal. My heart dropped. My first thought was 'you are fucking kidding right? Your ideas are sub par, your plots are convoluted, and you wanting to become a writer so that you can be like Richard Castle from Castle is not a reason to write, jackass!'. But what he neglected to tell me is that he is not getting published in any journal, he is submitting a story to a journal for potential publication. Like everyone else.

The one, and only thing, I honestly learned from hot professor is that writing is full of rejection. You can think something is awesome, so awesome that no one could possibly reject it, until that letter comes into the mail that your story was not accepted, you have been denied admission, we went another route but we thank you for your work. It's apart a life, and if I want to be a writer I must accept that. I don't think Joshua knows that yet because he thinks submitting a story entails publication. I didn't want to remind him that writing a short story can be more difficult than a full length one, that though the plot structure is still the same condensing it into 16-20 pages 'ain't' easy. And that having never written anything critiqued, work shopped, or reviewed by ANYONE outside of friends will make first time publication difficult, if not down right impossible.

But he was so confidant that I didn't want to come off as the 'jealous Debbie downer' by stating my concerns so i kept my mouth shut. But he thinks this is going to lead to book rights, and movie offers. I shit you not, I know this only because a few minutes later a coworker wanted to know what we were talking about, and he said with the most gleeful smile ever 'my story getting published thing'. She rolled her eyes and walked away saying 'yeah, you told me'.

But you should have seen him. He was like a little boy being told that he got the only A on a test everyone did poorly on. It was smug and gullible and naive all wrapped up in one smile. And so....I've decided to submit a short story to a plethora of contest coming up in the next few months. What, I never said I wasn't a competitive person.

Okay that's a stretch, the real reason I am on this submission bandwagon is because anyone can submit stories (case in point: josh). And as a person who wants to write, I need to start getting my stuff out of my head and into some hands. Unlike josh, i am prepared for the realities of submissions and my stories aren't terribly horrible.

And as I was walking home the other day, I saw a school bus of children dressed like little adults boarding a bus in preparation for a field trip. And I was filled with this desire to write a story about a field trip to a museum with a heartbreaking realization from the nerdy, introspective protagonist. And there you have it, a story idea (still in the beginning stages) and a definite trip to a museum while will hopefully lead to a complete short story ready for submission.

But I need to authenticate the museum experience. I have not been to this one since I was a kid, and in all honesty I don't remember anything about it. So, I'm going to go on Monday to get a sense of the setting, to expose my eyes to field trip experience. I am going to bring my camera, and notebook, and write as much as I can about sights, smells, and emotions that arise in the museum. Plus, I need a break from my life for awhile. I am thinking way to much lately, and it's wearing me out. The trip will be a little pricey, but I will manage.

I've been looking at the website the past couple of days, and it is geeking me out. Though I won't go on any of the group/school related tours the exhibits look amazing. Outside of the dinosaurs, I am most excited about the Hall of Human Origins. I'm not sure if it is actively open, but goddamn how I want to explore!

My camera is a little busted and unused these days, but expect pictures. Lots

Sometimes I Feel Like Throwing My Hands Up in the Air

I should have stayed in bed today. For realz, but I didn't.

First, I had a very early appointment with a very pissed hairdresser. Long story short, I have been going to his guy for a year and a half now. My aunt introduced me to him, and lets just say my hair has been suffering since. Three weeks ago a friend from work took me to her hairdresser and my hair is looking pretty good these days. But the new hairdresser is in the Bronx, and I honestly didn't feel like going that far.

So I booked an appointment with 'old hairdresser', for maintenance sakes. Immediately he recognized my new cut and healthy hair. He didn't ask any questions, but by the way he was tugging on my hair (and the cold icy glares) I could tell he was pissed. He then give me a ridiculous add insult to injury. Imagine your very old, very quirky aunt with the giant puff of a hairstyle atop her head. That's me!

Then, I decided to go to the bookstore ( I know, day off no no) to purchase some items I forgot to buy yesterday. I planned part of my day around this item and ex-hairdresser is literally a block away. Of course the moment I walked into work everyone wanted to know what I was doing there. I think I said 'buying something' five times in the span of 10 minutes. Then out of nowhere, the kid whose story I read and thought sucked majorly popped out of nowhere and said:

"hurry up and buy your stuff already. There is no reason for you to be here this early in the morning. Seriously"

I wanted to punch him in the face. But of course, because I internalize everything I sulked away from with my magazine and Moosecrunch. Yeah, so I went to work for caramelized popcorn and chocolate. Sue me, but it was 50%.

Then when I got home I couldn't even eat the moosecrunch, and instead took a long awkward nap. When I woke up, there was a message on my phone from a co-worker an hour after she sent it. Apparently they are/were a person short tonight for a closing shift with my Favorite Manager, and needed some help.

Evil Manager (the one who yelled at me) was suppose to call me and see if I could come in (which I wouldn't have done anyway but would have at least told Favorite Manager). But some how she 'accidentally' left the intended 'beckett can you come into night' message on another co-workers phone, hence the text message I received from her. Though I had nothing to do with the miscommunication, that won't be made apparently until tomorrow which makes me look like I bailed on the closing shift.

Why do I even attempt to get out of bed some days.

My hair looks weird, my ego is bruised, and I feel lost. At this rate I may have no choice but to go back to school. Life sucks hardcore some days.

Ass-Kicked

My allergies are acting up. This is not good.

After working four straight days, I am pretty out of it. My body is giving up on me. It decided that enough is enough. I closed Friday. Had a mid shift on Saturday. Opened Sunday, and then opened today.

Running on empty would be an understatement.

I don't usually open on Mondays and for good reason. There was absolutely nothing to do today, and when I wasn't off in a corner somewhere pretending to be busy (standing next to a shelf with a book in my hand with a puzzled look on my face, does the trick all the time) I walked up one aisle and down another. For exercise.

But I still felt all kinds of awful despite the lack of work. It's a mixture of allergies and body aches. By the time my break rolled around, I picked some corner in the cafe to re-read How to Breathe Underwater. In between reading a short story about a girl who survives a car accident and has to learn how to face her fear of water, I noticed a creepy guy sitting below me in some chairs we keep near cafe.

He kept looking into the cafe, where I was sitting, and turning in his seat. I ignored him for the most part because we get a lot of weird people in the store, and I was on my break. I wasn't being weird guardy bookstore girl. I was eating a bagel, reading a book, and listening to TV on the Radio.

But I couldn't pull my eyes away from him. He was just so weird. And we made eye contact for a second because I thought he was very shady, and he knew this. But he thought I was just some obnoxious customer who stares a lot. I mean, I wasn't wearing my name tag and in all honesty looked like I was skipping my high school English class (book bag and book didn't help).

The next thing you know, as I am mid bagel, the creepy guy gets up flips open his duffel bag and stuffs three very expensive boxes of chocolate in his bag.

Right in front of me!

I stood up immediately and attempted to jump into action, but he was gone before I could even utter "thief". I told a manager what happened, and then spent the rest of the day being questioned about what I saw. What did he look like? What was he wearing? What time did this all occur? Why didn't you do anything?

I won't even go into the fact that I am as petite as petite can get. He had no idea that I worked there, because I was just idly sitting in cafe. And I had no desire to test out what would happen if I approached this very large, built, duffel-bag carrying guy over the theft of chocolate (very expensive though. seriously). I put my safety before the damn candy.

After that incident I pretty much checked out for the rest of the day, and now I am at home hugging a pillow and typing at the same time. My head is all over the place, my body feels like crap, and I am sleepy. Very sleepy. I have a day off tomorrow and outside of a hair appointment, I plan on catching up on sleep and reading. Lots of it. No need to get out of bed tomorrow. No need at all.

Another One Down.

Today I found out that my friend from cafe is leaving.

fucking eh-. Everyone is leaving. And yet I still remain.

I opened today and saw a message on the white board announcing that there is an opening for a cafe lead. An opening in any department means that someone is leaving, and realizing that there are only two cafe leads, one of whom is my friend, I quickly put two and two together.

The news of his leaving was then announced during our dumb morning meetings where we all stand around at customer service while one of the managers goes on an on about...something. I am crushed. This is the fourth person living the bookstore in less than two months.

Which means that new people will be hired, making me one of the older employees. I hate this. I love that He is moving on from the bookstore. I don't know if he got a new job or is moving back in with his parents, but regardless he won't be there. And if anyone deserves to get out of that place it's him.

But, I can't help but feel jealous. I can't help but feel sad because He is leaving but also because I am still there. Of course, after the meeting when we all dispersed someone [Dave] stopped me on my way to the children's department to discuss the news. And he went on to say that he was happy that my friend was getting out of the bookstore because some people become 'lifers'

It's a term thrown around loosely at work to of course describe people who will be there FOREVER. Dave said he was going to be a lifer, no doubt about it. But as soon as he said it he was all 'no, I'm just kidding I might go back to school. I haven't been in school for ten years'. But I knew that he was serious, that store is going to be his job until it closes or he finds another retail job.

It seems every time someone else leaves the store, I envision with hope my own departure. The day where I get to announce that I received an unbelievable and exciting offer at some production company and that I regretfully (not) have to put in my two weeks notice. And then at the meeting, my manager will tell my co-workers of my impending leave and everyone will be sad. Yeah.

But until then, every time someone else leaves the store, I am faced with the irrational fear that I will be a lifer. I graduated going on two summers ago (writing two years is painful). And though I know I am an amazing, brilliant, charismatic young women I can't help but call on my real life to begin already, for something to come my way.

Because I'm don't want to be a lifer. I won't.

And Then I Bought a Cheeseburger.

I wanted to shop my little heart out today.

I have some how gone from working four days at the bookstore to five days. I need the money, and though I am sending out applications left and right (does anyone want to hire me as a production assistant. purty please) I haven't heard anything on the job front. Last week I sent out 6 applications. Nice cover letters and all. But alas nothing, and did I mention that I need the money.

Five days a week though, means that I only have 2 to myself. And when I'm not writing company specific cover letters, I am sleeping. Hardcore. But after an emotional night, and spring like weather I decided to brave the world today and go shopping.

Ever since my spat with Marie I realize that I don't have too many friends to hang out with. Everyone I know here works with me, and I am hesitant on combining my personal life with the people at the bookstore.

Last week one of my co-workers asked me if I wanted to head to a diner after work with him. I sort of blinked awkwardly because he is sort of shy and quiet, and I am sort of shy and quiet and collectively we have don't talk too each other much. I mean we do, but just not as much as I do with say Josh.

He was headed there with two people from cafe, an old girlfriend and McAbs. I thanked him for inviting me but quickly said 'no thanks'. But I do need to hang out with people. I just do, even if they are my co-workers. So i'm not going to share my life story with them but it but it doesn't mean that I can't hang out with them sometimes after work. It doesn't mean that I can't go out for drinks (soda) or see a movie every once in a while. When i'm comfortable with the situation, I mean.

But I don't have going out clothes. At work I wear slacks and a blouse. And at home it can be 90 degrees outside and I will still wear a cardigan, jeans, and chuck Taylor's. I have clothes that I wear to work, and then clothes that I wear in my room. Right now that is the extent of my wardrobe, and it's pretty bad.

So I headed to the mall this morning to gather from 'social gathering' clothes, so if did want to go to the diner with someone from work, or to see a movie and go out for drinks I would look , you know, presentable and not like a teenage boy. Which I sometimes dress like. But when I wasn't bombarded with fashion resembling something I wore when I was 8 in the 90's, there was too much neon and backless shirts at the mall. What's the point of wearing a shirt if it's missing essential fabric in the front and back of the blouse.

So like an adult, I headed to the food court after an hour or so of thumbing through clothes and bought a cheeseburger. A double cheeseburger. Yeah, what a successful shopping day.

I'm thinking about heading into the city soon. I haven't been there since my second Nonion interview way back in December (they never called, I never emailed a 'so about the internship' letter) and I need to escape from this town for a while. Even if it's just for a day. And maybe, maybe, I will find some clothes to wear. I could also find a used bookstore. Or a record store.

I sometimes get the urge to explore my surroundings and because the weather is getting warmer, I don't feel like being trapped inside all day. Which is very unusual for me to say. But I'm hoping that a change in my routine will get my life up and running again. I need it to.

Now time to eat that cheeseburger.

To Build A Home

today someone at worked asked if my brother had any children,

[she] only asked because a couple of weeks ago she came across my brothers facebook page, and thought he was pretty. She told me this. She said 'you have a really pretty brother' and then spent some time viewing his profile. I guess she flipped through some of his pictures and eventually came across one of Danny.

It was taken a few months before he died. In may. near my brothers birthday. Morgan is awkwardly holding him, while Danny's lips are pursed in curiosity at the girl (me) pointing a camera at his face.

It was the first and last time any of us got to met him in person (outside of checking in on him every week via the phone and mailing him gifts). He had curious eyes the whole day. But he didn't' cry. not once. He sort of just took us all in, and then slept.

And the girl who asked me if Morgan had any children is a friend of mine. And she was just curious because in the photo he is protectively holding Danny from what seems like ages ago. And yet, I was taken aback by the question. I didn't even know how to answer. I paused for a moment. Because he does have a kid. He is a father. I was a aunt. My mom was a grandmother.

And just because he isn't here, does that mean we don't exist as those people anymore. Do our titles get stripped away, or worse buried with him.

So i answered in the past tense, and said that he died last summer. And it was the first time I'd ever said it out loud and it sounded foreign, but I didn't know what else to tell her. I couldn't deny his very own existence in favor of my own. In favor of saying 'no, he doesn't have one', just so I wouldn't have to explain.

But the moment I told her the truth her face broke into pieces that resembled mine and I felt as if I had shattered in front of her. Because what else was I suppose to say. What am I suppose to say when people ask. Danny was my brother's son, and he continues to be someone I miss every day.

I had no words.

And then we sat there in silence for a short while. And I wanted to get up and go to the bathroom to cry, but I couldn't because she stared at me with sad eyes. So i just stayed there with her as she looked at me as if he'd died yesterday.

He's really dead isn't he?

And this never gets any easier does it?

And he'll never get older. And he'll always be a past tense.

And we'll always just try to go on the best that we can without falling apart in the silence.

...

Barred...

So I'm currently barred from the library. Seriously.

When I moved to New York I requested a change of address from the post office. I wanted my mail to come directly to my aunts house instead of going all the way to South Carolina.

But since things didn't work out to well there, I changed my address back to my moms. Now that I pay rent in the new digs, I should have changed my address (again). But I don't want to do that until I have a place of my own. I mean I've never had an apartment. Ever. Since school I have lived in rooms, or what my school considered rooms ( more like a broom closet). And as I pursue this whole job thing, I look forward to having money so that I can get a apartment one of these days. Maybe not in New York, but somewhere.

But the library is all kinds of strict about patrons having a home address. And though I have a home, my home is listed elsewhere. So yeah, I get mail sent here. But as c/o because I live in her home.

Apparently the library has attempted to send me mail the last few weeks, and it's bounced back to them. Now I am barred until I show some proof that I live in here. Which isn't going to be hard. My mom can just mail me something directly to this address, but fucking eh-. I really wanted to get some DVD's today, and now...barred.

I hate that word. Makes me sound like a criminal.

Today was a beautiful. It was warm and sunny, but not to hot. Though the library thing didn't work out, I did try my hand at shopping. It didn't go well, H&M is bringing back the 90's (neon colors, mom jeans, washed out jeans and shirts) and though I felt nostalgia thumbing through the clothes, I walked out with nothing.

I want to get back on the mixtap wagon again. It's spring and I've got some pretty good songs on rotation lately.In fact I want to get back into the swing of a lot of things, I have abandoned lately. I'm in good spirits and that is no April fools lie. Things will get better, because I want them to. Things will get better, because I am working hard on it. And even when I am tired, depressed, barred and damn near hopeless I have this glimmer of hope that things will get better. Because they have to. And now i am in a mood for good music, letter writing, story telling.

Yay for April.

Wake Me Up When It's Over.

Nothing turned out like I planned today. And I don't mean to say that today was a bad day. I know it seems as if every day I am dragged into hell, or worse depression, but I am handling...I swear.

But last night I couldn't get to sleep (again). I spent the day working on my puzzle, reading a book, and enjoying the rain. Of course, by the time midnight came around I realized that I was still doing all of those things. I hate that even when I want to sleep I physically cannot do so. I was so freaking tired last night, heavy lids and all, but I could not relax long enough to fall asleep. And sleep is all about letting go. I am all too over the place to relax long enough to fall into deep sleep.

By the time I did go to sleep it was 4am. I woke up 3 hours later to get ready for work, neither prepared or willing to embrace the day. Because of this I wanted the day to be simple and quiet, but yeah...that didn't happen.

Work has been...interesting to say the least. With the firing of Brad the rumor mill has hit a high. I admit, I am not immune to gossip and have indulged in a few stories myself . Gossip is not cool. I completely understand this. But our store is composed of characters from a John Hughes movie. We are dysfunctional and complicated people from different backgrounds who for the most part like each other. We have to, because the customers suck so much.

Since his firing, you can't go a day with hearing about it. But the thing about gossip is that it only works when thrown about a small group of people. Once it trickles out beyond that, you're screwed. Some how all the gossip from the last few weeks have reached the ears of the managers and we are now forbidden to gossip. Whatever that means.

She was so serious about it during the morning meeting that we spent the better part of the day gossiping about the fact that we can't gossip. Everyone wants to know what the managers have heard. If the 'gossip' they are talking about is the 'gossip' we pass around.

After our morning meeting I got stuck in the kids department all day. But my head hurt something awful and it's spring break here so parents don't know what to do with their kids. I will never understand parent's who drag their kids to a bookstore in the morning, afternoon, or night. Unless you are buying books, I don't see the point in bringing a three year old in the store for 2 hours to play with a train set. There are parks outside. Libraries. museums. backyards, and yet they bring their kids to a bookstore.

I couldn't stay in there too long, my head hurt, some kid was yelling incredibly loud and one thought he was a track star because he kept running around the store. I tried to go with the flow today, but apparently the current didn't call for calm because I spent most of the day running around.

I thought going to the library after work would calm my nerves but a comment from my manager messed me all up. Apparently some of the gossip is about me and the new manager. A few weeks ago I got yelled at by the new manager and now it seems the store manager wants to make sure I am 'okay'. The story filtered to her via someone who closed with us the night of the incident, and who knows how the story spiraled down from there.This is why gossip is bad.

When I was leaving she took me aside to ask if everything was okay and that I could come to her with anything that was bothering me. I was about to mention that I haven't been able to get a good nights sleep in a while, but she had serious concerned eyes so I decided against that. I told her that I was good and that nothing was bothering me, but she insisted that if I ever needed to talk to her about something to feel free and have a chat. Fucking eh-.

Now I'm all kinds of exhausted and I want nothing more than to sleep. I did end up going to the library but am unable to check out anything because I moved without notifying them of an address change. So until I bring them any mail with my current address on it, I can't get any books. I'll do that tomorrow I guess. I have a day off , even though I do plan on sleeping in pretty late.

Sleep, how I miss thee.

And then there was silence

She hasn't called me since Saturday.

Which means she doesn't know that I am mad at her or she meant every word she said and doesn't care about our friendship. Either way it sucks.

I don't plan on ending our friendship (I've known her since i was 12) but at 24 she can't say shit like that to me, and then expect me to be all bubbly on the phone. I planned out what I was going to say to her: You crossed the line the other day. My feelings were hurt and I don't expect that to come out my 'best friends' mouth. I don't feel like talking to you for a while, but when I am my feelings will have recovered.

but this scenario could only work if she calls. And she hasn't because she has said crap like this before and she just doesn't care. Now I feel all kinds of low, and it's raining outside and my room smells weird cause I forgot to throw out a cup of hot chocolate that I don't even remember buying.

I bought a puzzle the other day because I have this need to see something completed from start to finish. Writing does not always produce a completed concept, so I needed another outlet. I use to love doing puzzles with my mom because there is something about patiently fitting small pieces together to form a whole image.

the picture is a simple white farm house, one of those southern ones with the front porch and the American flag. The skies are grey, it looks like rain is coming, and there are a few clouds in the background. I don't know why this picture spoke to me, but I want to piece together this house from the ground up. I need it to be whole again.

I need to be whole again.

Feels Like I've Been Injured Beyond Repair.

What a rough day.

The last couple of days have been really good. I applied to a job that I am excited about . I am working on a story which I enjoy writing. And I have slept beautifully the last 3 nights. The last one is the best news in weeks. I love my sleep, and when I don't get a good nights rest I feel all out of sorts. Like I'm not myself.

But today Marie said something that put a halt to my optimistic high. I called her on my way to work, like I usually do, just to say hi. She sounded like she wasn't in the mood to talk but I plowed through the stressed conversation anyway, and told her about some positions I was planning on applying to after work.

Though I want a career in production, I do apply to editorial assistant positions from time to time. Only because I now have an editorial internship behind me, and a foot in any door is better than my job at the bookstore. When I mentioned the particular job to her, she got all bitchy on me. Why are you applying to that job? It's not in production. Yadda yadda.

I explained to her that working at a full time job vs. part time is what I really am seeking right now. And as an entry level candidate I just need a foot in the door somewhere.

Bit for some reason, she seemed agitated and then she said this out of nowhere:

Listen, I'm going to say something really mean right now but you got a degree in nothing. Lets be honest. You aren't really qualified to do anything. So yeah i don't care, you need to just start doing something with your life instead of working at the bookstore like you have for the past three years.

Ouch. I'm glad you warned me about the 'mean part'.

She said this.

To.Me.

I am beyond hurt. I feel like I've been hit in the stomach. She makes fun of my degree all the time. She considers my major a concentration people choose because they can't do anything else. But i fucking disagree with her.

I was a biology and psychology major and during my time in those departments and I excelled in the English classes I was taking as a minor more than the ones for my Major. And not because they were easy and lush, but because I was challenged to think outside of the right and wrong answers. I was forced to analyze, and dig, and come up with explanations for things. I fucking rocked at English. Not because all I did was read books and write papers, but because I thought.

So, getting a job has been hard and I will have to forge my own path to reach my destination. But my degree wasn't a waste. My degree isn't just a piece of paper, it's the thing that saved my life.

While she was off having friends, and a boyfriend, and calling me only to tell me about her awesome life... all I had was English. All I had were those moments where i knew that I was taping into something...bigger than myself. I was good. I am good. English or not.

And for her to continually (because this isn't the first time) reduce my degree and subsequently my life to nothing, is unforgivable. Unforgivable.

I quickly got off the phone with her after that comment, and spent the rest of the day feeling raw and exposed. I don't know if anyone else gets like this, but when my feelings are hurt I am reduced to this feeling of ...exposure. Like when you get a cut on your finger, and it stings a lot when the air first hits it. And the reason you run to grab a band-aid is so that the air doesn't hit the exposed skin anymore.

I feel like that. Moments before the band-aid is put on. I am a fresh wound. I ache something awful and it stings. I don't even think she knows how fucking pissed I am. She hasn't called or text to say "hey, what I said earlier may have come out wrong. Sorry". She is probably sitting in her apartment right now with no idea that I seriously have clocked out of our friendship.

And I don't know what to do to FEEL better. I of course had 'the moms' cheer me up with her 'you are a talented, beautiful individual..." speech, but I don't feel any better. I feel in the dumps. I feel low. I feel...betrayed.

I'm beginning to hate my life. Seriously. And at this moment, I hate her.

9 to 5.

Worst. Fucking. Headache. Ever.

I went to sleep last night at some god awful hour ( 4a.m) only to wake up at 7:30 to drag myself to work at 9.

I haven't worked an opening like this in a long time, and my sleep problems are not helping. If I was a medication person, I would go to target right now and grab some sleeping pills. It's come to the point where it that's bad. I don't remember the last time I had a good nights sleep. And it's beginning to take it's toll.

Of course the moment I get to work, everyone wants to talk about something that happened on Tuesday. That something being that Brad, funny ol' Brad, was fired on the spot yesterday!

I'm really getting sick of the bookstore. Some days we are so understaffed the customers want to jump on our computers (we don't have the self service computers) and locate the books themselves. I had the pleasure of yelling at one such person the other night. Who later came to apologize to me for using the employee computers but by then my bitch face was in no mood for apologies.

It's not even that we don't have the people at the store to cover the opening.mid and closing shifts. It's simply that our store manager wants to 'withhold' hours as much as she can. I don't know. It's a corporate thing. She is given so many hours to disperse among her employees. Less hours means less hemorrhaging of money. In close: we suffer with little to no hours, she wins because she is saving them.

We have lost 3 employees in the last month. 1 quit, 1 got a new job, and now Brad. Brad was funny. So he slacked off some days, and smelled like pot after his lunch breaks. But he was all into philosophy and did I mention the funny. The kid was hilarious.

I don't know the specifics. He called out on Monday. Came to work on Tuesday and was fire on his lunch break. The store manager was not a fan of Brad calling out of work so much. And with his 3rd write up in her hand, she saw no other choice but to give him the boot.

I am a mighty fine employee, but I don't like having to worry about having (or not having) a job tomorrow. I mean, I don't worry about this at all, but I feel that as a retail worker who makes minimum wage, this scare tactics of 'we will fire you' is...dumb. I feel like she made an example out of brad, because he, like us, is a young guy who is too smart to be there but who doesn't have anywhere else to go until things look up.

Retail. It's torture.

Out of this headache though I had a sudden gust of "i will make it" momentum going on. I don't get those feeling every once in a while, but when I do it's like there is some reminder telling me to keep going. Some little feeling, notifying me that I am headed in the right direction. Even when I feel like I'm not.

And oddly enough, Brad being fired urges me forward. I don't belong at the bookstore. Especially when our worth is reduced to hours and low pay.

Time for sleep. Or at least an attempt to. Please, all I asks for is one good nights rest.

Rainy Days.

Don't get me wrong, I love the sun. Sunshine is awesome. But after welcoming in spring like weather the last couple of days, I am excited for the clouds. The sun brings out too many people. The streets here have been filled with happy people, escaping their homes for the sun. And all I want to do is escape them.

I spent the weekend closing at the bookstore, only to run into groups of people hanging outside of bars and night clubs on my way home. No one likes to stay inside when the weather is so damn pretty. But despite my affection for the sun, I am reveling in these cold rainy days.

Yesterday it stormed something awful, but I braced the rain and winds to head to the library. I needed some new things to read, and outside of the zombie steampunk novel of my nightmares (I don't understand the purpose of this book. AT ALL) I got a few good movies to watch all day. I might have been the only person outside to brave the weather. It seemed like, on my way to the library. But I love the rain, and it never keeps me inside for too long. I just love the feel of the rain on my face. Love it.

When I was a kid, I use to use the bathtub as an island. We didn't have air conditioning, so in the summer when it got hot in our apartment...it got really hot! My mom worked long hours, so we couldn't always go to the pool or beach to cool off. So, I would fill up the bathtub with cool water, put on my bathing suit and spend hours pretending the bathtub was this exotic place.

I would submerge myself in the water, and sometimes (only sometimes) turn on the shower and pretend that i was sitting under a waterfall. I use to love the feeling of the water hitting my face, and then my breath getting caught in my chest because of the excitement.

It's embarrassing to admit that I do this now. And yesterday I walked with my head towards the sky, just for that feeling again. I miss that feeling.

I had a long weekend. I closed Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My sleep kind of sucks these days, and even though I stand on my feet all night at work, I have managed to come home around midnight and lay in bed until 3 o'clock. At first I was blaming my daytime naps for my late night problems, but I've always taken naps. Since college and I refuse to blame them for my insomnia.

I am painfully thinking about everything these days. Grad School? No Grad School? Australia? Pittsburgh? Philadelphia? Publishing? Film making? Steampunk? Sleep? that at night, I can't seem to quiet all of the noise and just rest.

A days rest would be nice. And all this damn rain outside is making me pretty sleepy, in a weird calm way that I haven't felt for a really long time.

And I don't want to do anything, but sleep right now. Despite the consequence later on tonight.

It's Just a Bunch of Teen Spirit

Oh, teens when will you learn that it is not acceptable to get wasted in the bathroom of a bookstore.

Ever.

I don't believe you will be racking up any cool points (do those still exist?) by drinking beer in a public restroom, with your friends egging you on. That is cause for some deductions in the cool point meter to be honest.

And when you become so sick that you start barfing on yourself, and said friends, you are not looking as hot as you think your are. Because barf never looks good on anyone, especially a slightly dazed and confused teenager.

So next time you decide to get wasted in the bathroom, remember you're being more of an ass than anything else. And yes, we are laughing at you. Very hard

Beckett.

Feels Like Spring to Me

March, you are so freaking weird. One day, there is a storm brewing so badly outside that it was almost apocalyptic and the next moment the sun is out, the birds are chirping and dare I say 'spring is here'. Seriously march, make up your mind already.

The last few days have been weird. I have gone back and forth between burning bridges here (amongst my coworkers), moving to Australia (and by Australia I mean anywhere besides New York) and applying to jobs I know I have a slim chance of getting (certain big league magazine place) but hey, I'm at least I'm forging ahead. And if all else fails, moving to the outback can't be too bad.

I am seriously getting to the point of 'stressed-out' which could account for my sour mood. I do not regret being a bitch towards Josh and Lexi the night before. I do regret being so affected by it that I couldn't channel my energy anywhere else outside of anger. Because that's what it was. I was, am, angry. Because there daily stress factors are reduced to whether a hot guy gives them attention, or when there next big party will take place. I am jealous of this, because my stress feel so much more profound. I don't know who I am, where I will be in the next few years, or if this persistence of solitude will be a life long (and lonely) venture.

Marie and my mom keep telling me that I need to take a day to myself. But in all honesty I wouldn't even know where to go. I really feel like I need to take a break from myself. Just a whole day, where I don't have to hear the voice in my head reminding me that I need a job so that I can pay rent, and loans, and feed myself.

I think too much. Way too much. I planned on a semi break today with a trip to the library. But I woke up at nine, went back to bed, woke up at 10, went back to bed, saw 10:30, decided against getting up, and then rolled out of bed around 11:20. By then I forgot what I was going to the library for, especially since by my count I have 7 books checked out, 3 dvd rentals, and a book from work that i have yet to read

Tomorrows a new day. It really is. By then, maybe I will want to get out of bed and head into the sun.

I might get some writing done today, fingers crossed. There is this amazing guy at work who is a legit artist. He draws and has had comics published by major graphic novel houses (some of his books are in the store). He is funny, interesting, a little warped guy but damn it all to hell...he's amazing. Yesterday I closed with him, and when we weren't talking about his weird appreciation for Body Odor (the story was actually really charming. He liked a older lady who worked at a sandwich shop. He use to hang around the store to talk to her after work. When she would hug him goodbye, he would smell onion on her. He associates that smell now with her, and for that reason is not opposed to B.O. I made a note of this quirk in my journal during my break.) we spent time checking out some cool art magazines and talking about how lame it is when people dye there hair a weird color to stand out from the crowd (that goes to you, girl with green hair).

Anyway, he introduced me to this sub genre called steampunk last night, and I have been googling away ever since. I am not a huge fan of sci-fi because I am incapable, or unwilling, to allow my mind to suspend the laws of time, physics and science. But this genre is pretty cool. Sci-fi/Victorian, I think? I'm diving head first into this world, and I was going to get a whole bunch of books exploring the themes of steampunk. I need to mix up my writing a bit, branch out, find my voice in other places.

But waking up late kind of fudged up that plan, and now I am going to eat greasy pizza and watch some horror movie produced in 1981. Oh yeah, I am living the life.

I'm Not Like Them, But I Can Pretend

I went through a weird Nirvana phase when I was in the 11th grade. Who doesn't. I mean it's Nirvana

It's classic girl meets boy story. Except that he had been dead for quite a while. But I still loved him.

I heard, but was not a fan of, Smells Like Teen Spirit when I was a kid. So when I came across a memoir about Kurt at the library I wasn't too sure I wanted to read it. But tragic characters are my favorite. Especially way too sensitive, artistically beautifully ones.

From the first page I was hooked and then spent the next few days reading a very in depth biography on him. At the time I had a car, and would drive all the way to the park to lounge in the backseat with the sun roof opened, reading this book while John Mayer played in the background (before he announced that his penis was a racist and all).

From there, I religiously listened to Nirvana. I soaked up all the songs that I could in the span of a summer. When I returned to school that year I was more depressed than ever, and wore torn jeans whenever I could.

My Nirvana phase lasted for about 6 months (thank god, because a depressed 16 year old is fucking scary). There was something to sad about Kurt. So sad that he made me sad, or worse, severally depressed. But there are days, even now when I play a song by him because the mood reflects mine.

And Dumb (hence the title) is one of my favorite songs by Nirvana. For several reasons.

I closed last night at the bookstore and it was horrible. I had the distinction of closing with the talk fests known as Lexie and Josh. Separately these two are hard to handle. They both talk a lot about nothing in particular but they make it seem so important you can't help but listen, until you realize they have said nothing important.

They are into themselves and their life way more than anyone else, but of course they do not care. Because caring involves listening, and they are too busy talking for that. I'm a different sort of person. I listen a lot more than I talk, but when I do talk I try to be considerate and funny and not too shallow though sometimes I can't help talking about movies. Sue me.

I have been in no mood to listen to people bemoan about their lives recently. I cannot listen to Josh talk about the great novel he is writing (they are ideas. not stories. generic at best). I don't think he understands publishing at all, or that there are a million guys like him but he still has this belief that he will sell a novel that will be turned into a movie which will make him a star! A star I say!

I can't listen to Lexie and her 'problems' that involve the one hand guy who asked her out, or the date she went on with a guy whose last name is Bush (this is a problem apparently), or the crush she has on a regular customer who comes in the store on a regular basis. Or that she is going to India, or that her life is so miserable because it is.

I cannot do it. And yesterday that's all they wanted to do. Josh has mentally penned the next big novel like 50 times (my favorite. FAVORITE, comment from him ever was "I think I have something great here. I mean I have just come up with 3 good names for some characters) , Lexie is not that interesting for all these guys who want to date here. And the moment I didn't give a crap about listening to them it was all "Beckett what's wrong with you. You are not yourself tonight".

It was frustrating and aggravating on so many levels. I don't understand. I know that I am completely honest with myself and with other people. I am initially a very hard person to get to know, but when I am fully present I am as real as real can get. The people I know seem to be either too young (even though they are my age) or want people to perceive them as things they are not. Instead of just being cool, they have to announce their coolness. Just to make sure we all know about it. And yet these people, no matter how fake or flighty or insincere they may be , have lives. And friends. And some days I barely have those two things to my name.

And I wonder if it's easier to pretend. Because maybe that is what everyone is doing anyway, just to belong. And I hate that there are days, like last night, when I can't even do that.

When I first heard the song Dumb by Nirvana, I could have sworn the lyrics were "I'm not like them, but I can't pretend". That 'can't' has been the basis of my existence for the last 8 years. I thought Kurt was being brave when wrote those lyrics. That it was a stance for resistance against the crowd. But a couple of weeks ago, when I googled the lyrics I learned that after all these years, I have been singing the lyrics incorrectly. Because with the removal of "not" in the sentence the lyrics change dramatically and hold a different meaning. Because he actually sings these lyrics with a hint of sadness: I'm not like them, but I can pretend.

Can. Can. How did I miss this. How did I ignore the more accurate meaning behind this song. It's not about how easy it is to be yourself. How simple it is to shrug your shoulders and say "hey I'm not like you, but who gives a fuck". It's about how hard it is to be who you are. It's about wanting to be apart of the crowd, even when deep down inside you know that you aren't. It's about the perils of conformity, because at least with nonconformity you stay true to yourself, even if that means you are alone. But being alone sucks, and crowds have a way of silencing your the insecurities about yourself.

And everyone wants to belong. Even when it crushes your soul. Everyone just wants to be liked. And maybe it's Dumb, but it's a truth so honest that I wouldn't dare question it. And I hate that this song is more beautiful because of it. Despite how sad it makes me, because the lyrics and sentiment behind them are so right.

In Another Time Girl.

This weekend we got hit by a really awkward storm that came out of nowhere. I only say this, because the day before (Friday) was not too bad. It wasn't a bright or sunny day, but okay by march standards.

Then on Saturday something out of a Stephen King novel happened and the sky turned black and tore Westchester up. I walked to work (miserable of course) in heavy winds, and I almost flew away. How badly I wanted to.

It was hurricane like weather, and for once, everyone stayed inside instead of trashing the store. By the time I left work, around 8, trees wore split in half, thousands were without power, a window had shattered something awful down the street and the wind...oh, the wind. It smack and punched and bruised everyone.

Everyone asked how I was going to get home. It's too dangerous. Just wait the storm out. You could blow away. But I didn't care. I had no desire to hang out there. And I was anchored by my heavy depressed state as of late.

The wind kicked my ass of course and I was thrashed about the whole way home.

I didn't get to sleep that night. Mainly because the night before I had a dream about McAbs where he was violent towards me. My feelings towards him are up in the air. There are some days when I like him. There are others when I couldn't care less. But that night, he made an appearance in my dreams as the worst sort of man in the whole entire world. I went to work, not having slept much the night before and was a bit grouchy.

I didn't really want to encounter another disturbing dream on Saturday, and the wind at my window kept me awake. So I worked on my resume until an ungodly hour, because I need a job. And one quick. I can't survive off of the bookstore money much longer. I just can't, and I don't know how much longer I can live in New York under these finical constraints. It's getting rough.

When I did wake up, I lost an hour (this time change thing is brutal), felt like crap because of the lack of sleep and did not want to head into work after the horrendous storm. At all. When I got to work on Sunday, I learned that the storm was a lot worse than expected. 74,000 people in the county alone are without power and about 1,000 tried to hang out in the store to use the power outlets yesterday. Teens hung out in the aisle checking their facebook accounts , parents conducted business in the children's department while there kids destroyed the department, people worked on homework, watched Youtube, made a home for themselves in the store.

But I didn't care. I gave them all the eye like "really. You came here during your power outage". I grew up experiencing a million blackouts. And my mom kept us home. She would bring out the candles, a board game, and take us to the living room. Sometimes we would grab flashlights and head outside into the neighborhood, and go figure, talk to our neighbors. It was sooooo weird yesterday. No one knew what to do with themselves, so the bookstore was their best option.

I am trying to keep my head up these days, but it's hard. I don't think I want to be in New York anymore. I have days where I just want to pack up the little things I have here and leave. We keep playing that dame Sade Cd in the store, and though I love me some Sade, hearing it every hour can make a girl want to throw the cd out the window. Don't get me wrong, the cd is amazing and In Another Time, gets me all the time. I just stop and want to cry when the song comes on. The lyrics are painful and sad.

That song particularly, reminds me of me

I need a break. Literally and figuratively. I need to get a job that doesn't suck, in a place that doesn't drive me crazy ( i can't deal with the pretentiousness here. And I miss the damn silence), doing something that doesn't suck.

I want a simple existence. I want to wake up in the morning, in my nice apartment and make a delicious and simply breakfast . I want to go to my creative, fun, challenging job where my co-workers are people I want to hang out with. And then, when the work day has ended I want to return home. To my nice little place, away from the city, where I can make me something to eat. Something that will take me a little while to put together. I'll invite the boy (whoever he is) over or maybe a friend to my house, for a nice chill evening of conversation and Ghostbusters! And then, at the end of the night, I would retreat to my bedroom, write a few pages of my novel before nightfall, and then to sleep where my cat Jack would already be curled up at the edge of the bed.

I want that life. How do I get that life.

Apparently, I'm just not that Girl

It's really late and I am hella tired.

For a Friday close we got out super early. It was the A team of a closing crew and by 11, the store was already clean. By 11:30 we were out the door, all in various stages of a caffeine high or low.

McAbs offered to drive me home again. And because it was raining outside I wasn't going to do my whole "no, I really want to walk" thing.

But something unnerving happened in the beginning of my shift today. Something that has my head spinning. McAbs is a very touchy guy. Never in a way that is inappropriate or worse, illegal. I mean he is super flirty, and if I was his girlfriend I would more than pissed at the attention he gives to other girls.

But for the most part of interactions are...silly. A punch in his arm, him touching my elbow, or hugs. Super nice hugs. But that's it. And the level of work flirtation has been, amateur.

But then today, I was in the break room. And he wanted to know if I needed a ride home. But instead of just, you know, asking me and me smiling at him, he came up behind, placed his hands on my hips and pulled me into him. Then asked me ultra seductively, if I needed a ride home.

??????

It felt weird. Not because 'red flag' this motherfucker has a girlfriend, and he those are my hips you are so naturally touching. Or maybe that was actually the feeling.

I didn't feel like it was ultra inappropriate or worse,illegal, but there was something wrong about. My body reacted physically to him touching me in a way it hasn't before. Not that he hasn't been ultra touchy in the past with me and a slew of other girls, but the intimacy of this touch threw me for a loop. Not because it felt good, because I didn't enjoy it. He had this "i'm Tarzan, you Jane stance". His hands on my hips were way possessive and I fell forward in an attempt to escape him.

I tense up when he touches me sometimes. Like despite all my hot and heavy dreams about him, my body doesn't trust him. It flinches and pulls away even before my mind has a chance to. And I realize it's because I don't trust him. Not only because he has a girlfriend, but because I don't think he's this .....gentle person. I think he's forward and aggressive, I think he's Tarzan and I have no want to be his Jane.

When Mike and I were friends, there was a level of comfort with him. Because I knew he wouldn't...hurt me. And though I KNOW McAbs would NEVER do anything to harm me, my body isn't reacting like it knows this. My body is not sensing this from McAbs, it instead felt violated even before a violation occurred. And it nothing to with McAbs himself. He was joking around, and being dumb and being a guy around a girl he likes to flirt with. But the reaction I felt was like nothing I have ever felt before.

My body felt wrong in his. Like there was no compatibility, and I wanted to escape rather than linger and let his hands rest on my hops.

And even now, I am trying to figure out where this is coming from. I am a girl. I am pretty. Boys like me. I like them. But my body has never felt such an aversion to someone else's before. With Simon (who I had to call Adam on this blog while I was Lenny's intern), there was this connection on so many levels. I felt like we meshed mentally and emotionally and physically. Don't get me wrong, he was a boy, so he did get on my nerves sometimes. Like when I had the flu and he kept going on and on about computers. I almost stabbed him, but was willing to heal him afterwards.

But when I stood next to him, or helped him fix something in the office in the small confides of a closet. My body felt safe, I didn't want to escape. I had no problem leaning in just a little closer, for the hell of it because I knew he wouldn't....hurt me. It just felt right. I just felt safe.

And tonight I didn't. With McAbs hands on my hips, and my back against his chest it was unnerving. It was weird. I felt weird. I didn't talk on the way home (luckily someone else was in the car so it wasn't too awkward!), and now I can't sleep.

Am I going to have this weird physical problem with every guy (who isn't like Simon, or Mike: sensitive, emotional types) who wants to be flirty? Am I a big weirdo? I understand that it's McAbs and he's just some guy at work who I will probably never have any connection to outside of work with...but...I don't know.

My head hurts. I might delete this in the morning. Must stop thinking.

On the Market.

I applied to two jobs this week. Yay, me!

Now if I get called into interview for these jobs, even better.

To be honest, since I started being an intern I've put the whole job hunt thing on hold. I mean when I got the production gig with Lenny I saw no point in working part time at the bookstore, interning two (which turned into one) days with Lenny AND applying to a full time position.

And then I went home for six weeks this summer ( in between applying to a job as an editorial assistant that I did not get, but did get an internship for). And then I came back to New York, started working 5 days at the bookstore, along with two days at the publishing company. Yeah, no time to be on the market for a job, when squeezing in sleep was even a chore.

But I have not been an intern since Mid November, and after Thanksgiving break, I just sort of put a halt on everything. Not to say I have been lazying around here. I did move into a new place, and get another internships (which I quit) and there.was.christmas.and.stuff but on the job end I've failed on sending my resume out and pleading my 'I'm awesome, hire me"case

The two jobs are both entry level, and in the city. At this point, I don't even care what it is. As long as it's sort of in my field and pays more than minimum wage. I'm not picky. I have put myself on the market and I hope that someone will choose me. I really, really want to be chosen for something.

Not only am I on the market for a new job (repeat: someone hire me please. purty please). I am also on the market for a new hairdresser, because my current one keeps chopping my hair off. For the hell of it I think. For some reason, I don't think he understands the "I want to keep it long" concept. Because I come out with extremely short hair, every time.

A friend from work has recommended me to her hair dresser. And though it is in the city (seriously, like 2 hours away) I am tempted. There is a place closer to me that I want to check out, but I would have to take a bus and I'm not really good with buses. The things we will do to look pretty.

I'm also looking into some media studies programs. So it isn't a masters degree you can depend on (but hey, i was shooting for an MFA once) but I really want to get into film production, and am finding it extremely hard to do. Hell, I don't know how I would pay for grad school (loans?), but I'm narrowing my schools down and if I can find someone to recommend me who knows what could happen.

So yes. New Job. New Hair. New School. Because this current job, rough hair, and no school is killing me.

A Little Bit of Impulse Never Killed Anybody.

So. I mentioned a couple of days ago that my Hot Creative Writer teacher (McDreamy/Sleepy/Sucky) was coming to New York this week to visit an exhibit. Let explain how I came to figure this out.

My relationship with him in school was not good. Despite my attraction to his face, we never clicked on the whole teacher/student relationship. Part of it had to do with him sucking hard core. He could not teach worth a damn. He bored the snot out of me, I fell asleep several times in his class, and for the first month I don't even think he remembered my name. I, in response to this, was extremely rude to him on several occasions because I wanted him to be the teacher I needed, and he wasn't.

However, I still had this immense attraction to him. I understand now, that I don't work well in the role of the muse. I like creating and molding thing, I like having that 'model' to inspire me, and my role is more of the artist. I latch on to faces, objects, colors, sounds, and feelings, and am inspired by them. And in a way, he was like my weird muse. The awkward college professor whose writing I thought sucked but who I couldn't stop writing variations of on paper.

He published a book right after I graduated college. And as soon as I moved to New York, I ordered a copy into my store and read it for the hell of it. I wasn't a huge fan, despite the praises, but I attempted to read it anyway. From time to time I am privy to updates from him via a blog that he has, and when I found out he was going to be in the Tri-State, my interest peaked.

The most depressing thing about post-college life is how lonely it is. I mean I was lonely in school, but in that I'm only 20 and a student way. It's a little different now. With your classic New York sentiment abound, I am surrounded by a million and one people and yet I am lost in the crowd. I don't know if I have a real connection with anyone I have met here. I go to work. I come home. I stay home. And then I wake up and go to work.

And even though I only graduated school a year and a half ago, I feel so distant from that time and that place. And I miss it. I miss that my only real concern for the days were "to get a burrito from Moe's or not to get a burrito from Moe's". I had a sense of direction in school (even if it were to just graduate) but in the real world, I can't grasp what I am suppose to be doing. I don't feel like I know who I am some days. The face in the mirror is mine, I know, but sometimes I don't recognize her.

And when I found out the McDreamy was going to be in New York, at a museum that I frequent, visiting and exhibit I have meaning to see, I wanted to catch the first train into the city, run into him, and see an old face from the past. And maybe in seeing his face, I would see my old self. It doesn't make sense I know. Maybe I've been watching too many Ethan Hawke movies. But the last couple of days have been "what would happen if I went" nights.

Seeing him had more to do with me than of course him. I miss school. I miss it a lot. And though I have no idea how I would pay for grad school, or who I would get to recommend me for any programs, there are days when I want to be back in school. Where I want to be in the throes of a really good sentence of a paper I am writing. I want to feel like I am reaching for something I can grasp, instead of how I feel now. Like I am reaching for the stars from the sill of my window.

And when I was McDreamys student, I was getting support from a very awesome therapist, I was 21 and learning to deal with it. I wasn't here in New York on a cloudy day when nothing seems to be going right, pondering my next step and hoping that I won't fall on my face in my pursuits

So sue me, that the impulsive aspects of my personality was NYC bound today. I was prepared to get on the Metro North, take the C,or the E train to the museum and maybe run into his face. I didn't plan much after that ( I have written down what would have transpired about that, and it turned into a Before Sunset Remake. See he makes me write, even when I don't want to), I'm not even too sure he would be there when I was there. But I'm a hopeless, passionate person and god, how good it would have been to see someone from small town USA. How good it would have been to see someone who knew me then, and whose face I could find my own in.

Ebb and Flow of Things

By some awesome twist of fate, I got three days off in a row. Despite needing the money and hours, there are days (and weeks) when I do not mind having the personal hours to escape inside my head for a while.



The weekend was littered with drunken parties I did not attend, viewings of Alice in Wonderland that I was not interested in seeing (don't get me wrong. I love me some tim burton, and johnny depp. But I as of late there is something soul crushing about adaptations of stories I loved since childhood. I don't know what it is, but it never works for me), and your occasional emotional breakdown.



I closed on Friday with a less than stellar crew. Lexie, the photographer, closed with me and I knew I was in for a night of 'let me tell you about my amazing life". For someone soooo nice, I don't know why I can't stand this girl. A little bit of it may be jealousy. I mean she does talk about how amazing her life is, and from the sounds of it she is doing everything I wish I was doing. She is going to India this summer for a month, just because she can. She lives in a hot apartment with hot artsy boys, she is tall and charming...and I hate her.

When she isn't talking about herself, she is thinking about talking about herself. On Friday I had the pleasure of hearing all about her upcoming trip to India, and the guy she met at a bar, and that time she met Bono in the city, or that other time she saw Sean Lennon, or that...It goes on and on. And she asks me to hang out all the time, but I have this fear that all we would do is talk about her, and I would be the awkward less attractive friend boosting her ego.

I spent the night trying to escape her, which of course meant that I kept running into McAbs. We hadn't seen each other since Valentines day, and because I was ( am) in a pissy mood I wasn't too in to seeing him that night. This guy has the most even temper I have ever encountered, he doesn't get mad, he doesn't get uncomfortable he just sort of goes with the flow. And sometimes when I talk to him, I think he has me all figured out and that's why some days I would rather just avoid him.

So i walked into work thinking that (avoidance. yay.) until I ran into him and he asked me if I wanted a ride home and even though I said "no" inside my head "I would rather walk, it's nice out" I ended up saying "not really" but he looked at me and raised his eyebrows and said "do.you.need.a.ride.home" and I shrugged and said yes.

And on the ride home we talked about work, and me getting yelled at by crazy manager, and him almost getting fired (reading a book on the job) and he wanted to let me know again that walking home this far in the dark isn't safe, especially for someone like me. So I ask him "what does that mean" and he tells me that I am just, you know, that soft spoken, non argumentative kind of girl who needs to know how to defend herself because I look a lot meeker than I am.

And I laugh at him. Because what does he know, he could be underestimating me. I could be a kickass superhero after work, he wouldn't know. I could possess the strength of a thousand men. He should be worried.

By then we have gotten to my house, but we are just sitting there. And he turns to me and says prove it. So he gives me his hand, and tells me to squeeze it "with that strength of a thousand men". Prove it. But for a split second I hesitate because I would be holding his hands, his very McAb hands and he makes me uncomfortable. And there is something extremely dangerous about him, because I am extremely attracted to him. But he is testing me, because maybe I am meek, but it doesn't mean that I can't protect myself. Even from someone like him. So I placed my hands into his, and squeezed as hard as I could until he flinched. But then he laughs (not in a mean way) because he was just messing with me. But he doesn't let go, and my hands are engulfed by his. And his fingers are warm draped over mine, and I feel safe.

But then I tell him that I have to go, and thank him for driving me home, and I take back my hand (reluctantly), and my hands felt all alone again. Damn it, how do I erase him from my mind. Sometimes I feel like I have a crush on him, just because he's a good guy that it is unattainable. That he is safe because he isn't mine. That I get to participate in a pseudo relationship with him when I need to, and I get to escape into the safety of my house when it gets to close for comfort.

I'm such a weirdo. I know.

Anyway

I ran my usual errands today. Library, salad place, home. And I am now ready to eat the best damn (and unhealthy) salad ever, watch Duel and read a book by Ethan Hawke. I'm going through a Hawke phase again. The disillusionment is killing me. OMG is this what a quarter life crisis is?

I am sort of going through the motions these days, and I want something to disrupt the flow so I change things up a bit.

And of course as I was thinking of disruptions, I found out that my hot creative writer teacher from way back when (damn I miss school) is going to be in New York tomorrow. Don't ask me how I found this out (okay, it was through his personal website that I may or may not read from time to time) but it's so weird. In the days that I have found this news out I have come up with some many scenarios that involve us running into each other and having some Before Sunset experience.

His journal writing is way more personal then his fiction, and despite my lackluster reviews of his teaching ability (I think i called him Mr.McCan'tTeachWorthADamn), I am still interested in him and what he writes. And tomorrow, he is going to be in 'my neck of the woods", like some figure from my past. I'll write more about this later, I do have a lot to say about this. But right now, I have a date with sir Stephen Spielberg and a crazy ass truck driver.

Until Then

All 'Grown' Up

So yeah, about that birthday.

I am officially 24 years old this week, and like last year my birthday was a little bumpy, and I spent most of the day being very sour.



It's hard getting older, and having to come to terms with your life. I'm not even talking about the deep existential crisis, I'm talking down and out being a very broke, very unhappy, semi-friendless 20 something. That is damn near depressing.



After weeks of cold snow and cabin fever, March 1st was beautiful here in the Northeast. The sun was shining, it was warm outside and the people were out in droves tempted by the spring like weather. I awoke to text messages from the usual (mom, Marie), a few presents to open from the usual (mom, Marie) and started my birthday.



That is where the excitement began and died folks. I had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day. I realize that outside of 'hang out' buddies, I don't have any real friends here. No friends to take me out to lunch or dinner, no friends to go to a movie with, nothing. I woke up, got dressed, and headed out on my birthday to run errands. Fun times.





I mailed my mom her birthday package, ran to the library to return some very overdue books, spent an hour at the library getting a handful of books I will most likely not read, and then I wandered around for a while, like a lost soul. I had no where to go, I had no invitations to do anything or be anywhere. I ended up getting some takeout from a restaurant and walking home.



I spent the rest of the day wallowing (I'm really good at it) and cursing everybody who failed to wish me a happy birthday. It's not to say that the messages and comments and phone calls that I did receive didn't mean anything to me. Because they did, all of them. But because I often feel this great sense of loneliness here, I wanted this birthday to prove me wrong. I wanted someone to surprise me, and take note that March 1st was my bday, and that they wanted to make sure I enjoyed it, even if it was in the smallest of ways.



Like a mature 24 year old I pouted, promised myself that I would never speak to those people again, and that when I became the most talented producer/writer/wife of Sufjan Stevens in the whole entire world they would regret not acknowledging me. Yeah, mature I know.



But then I put the ice cream and the tissues away and realized that I can't go around expecting much out of people who aren't really my friends, and who spend most of their time inviting me to parties where everyone gets high and drunk. I don't want to hang out in someones basement (their parents no less) smoking pot and potentially making out with a co-worker. I just don't want to do any of that. It's just not my thing.

But the birthday frustration represented a whole other issue....things need to happen in my life. I mean they needed to happen last week, or even yesterday but I would settle for right now. I seriously cannot do this for much longer, not because it's lame (or because eventually I will have to pay back loans) but because it isn't what I am suppose to be doing. I am afraid that I am so afraid of leading a boring life, that I am playing it safe. The risks I think I am taking aren't risks at all, but instead are just these life choices I have made to buy me time.

When I was younger I dreamed of being an extraordinary person. Because of shows like Buffy, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Roswell I had this idea that I would wake up one day and find out I was destined for greatness. That I was the lost princess of a King in a far away land, that I was suppose to the save the world from evil or some shit. So yeah, maybe I wasn't going to be a vampire slayer, or a witch, or fall in love with an alien but I knew (wanted) that one day I would realize that I was meant to be somebody, and that somebody was going to be an influence to the lives of some people.

And I hate that at 24, I am still sort of waiting for my destiny to land in my lap. For that one moment, when I'm least expecting it, for someone to give me some insight into the life I am suppose to be leading. And I know, that's not how the world works. This is not CW episode, but I need my life to be something, rather than the nothing that it is.

So yeah, maybe this birthday beat me down, but it lit a fire under my ass (is that the saying? it seems a little dirtier in writing) and I need to do something different. WAY DIFFERENT. Maybe even moving to Australia. Okay not Australia, but you get the point. If I want things to be different I might have to change things up a bit. I may have to take risks just to see what may be born out of it.

I guess that's what being a grown up is all about.

Guess What?

I am 24 years old today.

YAY!!!