When it Rains, It Pours....

The clouds are constipated. It wants to rain so bad, I can tell but alas there is nothing.



It's been too hot these last few days. I can't even really say it's the heat because it's the humidity that is killing it for me. I went to bed last night a hot mess, only to wake up a hot and sweaty mess. Let's just say I am counting down the days until Fall.



The weatherman is reporting a thunderstorm later on tonight, and if the clouds are any indication of the next few hours, then he is spot on. But I still don't see any raindrops, and it is still humid as hell and despite having a day off I spent much of it patiently awaiting this thunderstorm.



The rain helps me think. I find grey clouds comforting. And though thunderstorms include the ever crashing sound of thunder, there is a silence in it that I cannot express. And I am hoping that this thunderstorm will bring with it a cold front, because man my body cannot take it. To curb the heat issue I have been taking epic naps in order to relieve some of the tension in my body. Yeah, the naps mess with my sleep later on in the evening but naps are a luxury I cannot give up.



I find myself dreaming about college a lot. They aren't those "could have, should have, would have ones' like I had...well in college. I have these literal dreams of my time there, specifically of the various English classes I took during my four year stint. Today I dreamed of the European Lit class I took my junior year, with the NotSoHawt but relatively nice Professor. I didn't say too much in his class, but he took notice of me because I would write him emails concerning his lectures. He read one of my emails out to the class and begged me to speak more during class time instead of using an email format.



Anyway, right before my birthday he told me (or more appropriately wrote on an email I had sent him) that I " have a real future in this field: You ask great and imaginative questions". I don't know why this moment (and comment) has been so pivotal to me. Or why I dreamt about it this afternoon. But I was in that room during my nap taking a test I thought I was going to fail, feeling insignificant and small until he called my name and in a way said I was special and important.


There are days when I miss feeling like a person with potential. I mean I know I possess it, but I miss the reinforcement. I miss having someone ( a teacher, a therapist, a friend) to remind me of it. It's the main thing I miss about being in school, that I had this support system of people not only telling me that I was okay but reminding me that I have potential, that I am special.

When I was in grade school I use to have this fantasy that involved me sitting in a full classroom of my peers and having some hot stranger come to the door and ask to see me. I use to see this happen all the time. We'd be in the middle of another Christopher Columbus lecture and there would be a knock at the door. The teacher would look pissed because of the interruption but we were all excited to see who it could be. And then like some vision, some fairly attractive man or woman was there, asking if they could speak with so and so for a moment. So and So would get up from his or her desk and exit from the room like we were filming a scene from a movie where the protagonist is rescued or taken away.

And I always hated that no one ever came to my class to interrupt the teacher to ask for me. I always wanted to be the So and So to get up from my seat, surprised as my classmates were, that I of all people was important enough to warrant a visitor. I dreamt of this fantasy in middle school then high school all the way to college to now. I mean even now when I'm at the bookstore I catch myself wanting to be acknowledge in that same way. For someone to pop up and ask for my name (in a non creepy and annoying customer way) because of my importance and significance to them. Because I am special and unique and full of potential.

Wishful thinking I guess, after all these years. I have work 9-5 tomorrow and i am not feeling getting up to go to work. They are now in the process of hiring some more people to work at the store and I am apprehensive and nervous. New people, new dynamic another indication that I have been there forever.

My drive to write has been an up and down thing. I go from sheer excitement to 'whatever' most days and can't get outside of my head long enough to put anything of significance on paper. It's frustrating and exhausting and I've never felt more like an crazy writer than now. Since the BBC thing I have taken a mental and emotionally break. I haven't wanted to do anything serious, including writing, just for a week. I've just wanted to spend my days waiting for this damn thunderstorm to come and have dreams of once being a person with potential.

I Didn't Mean to Hurt You

I've been taking the BBC America thing well.



Ok. I'm lying. Almost a week later, it still fucking sucks that I didn't get the job. I am watching Dr. Who On Demand right now as I type, and I cannot help feeling extremely pissed that I am not preparing for my first real world job after my first real world job interview.



I don't believe the interview was horrible. I was sort of prepared, kind of charming and I wore a really cute and professional outfit. I could have related my skills more to the position itself rather than making generalities about my awesomeness. You live and you learn.



The fact that I got an interview at all at BBC America for a position I didn't know even know existed, gives me some hope though. Whose to say that if the BBC didn't find my resume a good enough for their company that other networks won't. I mean other networks will not be BBC America of course but all I have these days is optimism and a growing obsession with Matt Smith and the UK.

Since then I have been managing. I still have to get up in the morning and continue with my life, despite how sucky it has been this month. Especially regarding work.



When I say I am dissatisfied with my job at the bookstore, I mean it with every fiber of my body. Even my favorite manager along with my co-workers are experiencing their own 'I hate my life' mood. The honeymoon period is officially over. We are no longer head over heels in love with working together at the store. We don't despise each other by any means. But you know when you've been around someone for too long in the close confines of say a house or a bookstore that the things you love about them can become...annoying, just because. Well that's what happening at the store.

Case in point, I closed last night and it was brutal. No one said much of anything all night and you could sense that we all had things on our minds that had nothing to do with work. There was a weird stillness in the air and despite trying to be an upbeat person I wasn't even in the mood to brighten the day. I too was consumed with my own thoughts and couldn't find the drive to muster happiness for someone else. When we finally closed we collectively ignored each other, cleaned up the store and then parted ways. It was the most bizarre closing ever.

And for some reason it's as if the customers know we all hate our jobs because they have been pulling out the extra crazy lately, as if our internal distressed monologues aren't enough for us to handle. Today the insane Ann Coulter-isque lady decided to grace us with her Obama bashing sentiments. She is a regular at the store. A regular pain-in-the ass woman who only comes in to ask for really right winged books and then rant about America turning into a communist nation. I helped her once, and she got mad at me because a book she wanted wasn't in stock. She accused me, yes I, of being apart of a liberal agenda to rid the store of Conservative books. I immediately got a manager and went on my way.

Today she tried that crap with Virginia, a really elegant retired teacher who works there part time. Virginia wasn't having it and the two started screaming at each other in the store. I watched from afar, afraid/confused/intrigued as Virginia called the lady crazy and the lady shoved a Conservative book at her. When it almost came to blows (I said Virginia was elegant, I might have forgotten feisty and yes, they were pretty close to hair pulling) I called a manager. It was too much for me to watch.

I on the other hand had to deal with the survivalist guy (who thinks we should start preparing for a return to hunter-gathering time) who came in the other day and wanted to talk about this girl who broke his heart. This guy is harmless, he is literally just looking for someone to talk to. And apparently that person is me. For the past year he has come to me to talk about this girl he dated who messed him up....for life. To make a long story short: They work together, they started dating, he payed all her bills, she used him, they broke up, now she is dating another co-worker.

He thinks that she may have a psychological disorder, and every other week he is buying psychology books trying to understand how she could do harm him emotionally. During one of these 'sessions' where he asked for me specifically to help him I mentioned that I suffered from anxiety. I don't know why I did this. He kept talking about disorders as if they made people bad and all I could think was 'hey I have anxiety and I'm not a bad person'. Or maybe I thought telling him would let him know that people are perfect. So yeah, I have a smile on my face at work but it doesn't mean that things are eating me up inside. That I am 100% ok. I just needed him to know that for some reason, so he wouldn't get attached to me as the 'really sweet innocent no problem girl at the bookstore'.

But yesterday, while I was at the cash register covering someones break he stopped in to say hey. He immediately started talking about the girl who broke his heart again and I daydreamed about being taken away by Matt Smith. Then he said "i still can't believe you have anxiety. you hide it well. can you explain what it feels like'. I just sort of shrugged my shoulders and was like 'it's sort of personal i guess"

But he went on to relate my social anxiety to his crazy ex-girlfriends inability to accept love from him. And in a way attempting to tell me that my anxiety can hurt other people. That it can isolate me from those who just want to...I don't know, love me? It was freaking bizarre. One, because this guy himself is suffering some issue that only Freud can deal with but 2), but because I never associated my anxiety as a danger to other people . And even though he is a loony bird it got me thinking, has my anxiety hurt other people?

I mean not in a malicious way. Anxiety is not a deadly rambo-isque friend who I introduce when times get rough, but I couldn't help but think of the people I have isolated because of it. People I've cared/care about who inadvertently have had to deal with my anxiety as much as me. And though the guy who made that point is CRAZY, it was a valid general point. A point I am still struggling to understand and must write about tomorrow. But I didn't need some stranger making that claim. Not at all.

Anyway

I have to get out of the bookstore, I have to get out of this life and I know it must be incredibly boring to read me writing this over and over again, but it even worse having to live it. I've applied to some more jobs and am crossing my fingers that I hear something back. I can only do 3 more months of this before I completely have a breakdown of sorts. I am running out of things to try, and my spirit is faltering. A little.

Tomorrow I have a day off (thank god) and I plan on doing something semi-relaxing. That's the plan at least.

Why Do I Even Get Up in the Morning

Dear Beckett,

After carefully reviewing the qualifications and background of the candidate pool, we find that we are unable to offer you a position at this time.

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider you for a position with BBC Worldwide Americas. We wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of employment opportunities.

Regards,

BBC Worldwide Americas

Trimming the Fat.

Unlike 2 weeks where I magically had both Saturday and Sunday off, this weekend I spent the better part of my day at the bookstore. Two 10-6 days. It was brutal.

On any other day I would not complain about a 10-6 work day. Let me correct that. I would not complain as much about said 10-6 workday. But where we once had enough employees to cover the basic functioning needs of the store, we are now a slim crew.

A few people graduated this year and moved back home, some quit and got 'better' jobs, some left because the New Manager is an uber bitch and could drive the devil out of hell if you gave her enough time. And well...some got fired.

A week ago the Awesome Manager came up to me and asked me if I was friends with 'Jessica'. She is the youngest person working their (19) and for the most part I like her. I mean, we never hung out outside of work but we spent several hours on the floor NOT helping customers. Anyway, when I said yes, that I was kind of friends with her he said "oh. well if I tell you something about her you have to promise that you won't tell anyone else. PROMISE'.

This was not an unusual request, this manager has a tendency of telling me things. He is by far every one's favorite because he knows we are all pretty young and do the best that we can at our crap job. He's gotten in trouble with the other managers because they think he treats us more like friends than employees. So when he came up to me, I knew he wanted to tell me some top secret thing that could only be between us (and my journal).

Apparently a week earlier, while another manager was on duty, she got a call from a very popular shopping store located in our building, that an employee from the bookstore was caught shoplifting some cd's. Because most of us shop at the store during our break their staff are familiar with our faces. Hence why they were shocked when she strolled in (on her day off) to shoplift. They wanted a manager to come downstairs and identify the suspected shoplifter on the surveillance tape. That employee turned out to be Jessica, and for that reason the managers had no other choice but to fire her.

I haven't told anyone about what Awesome Manager told me but with one less employee at the store I can't help but notice how small our crew has become. We literally have enough people to cover the cash register and customer service. Everyone looks worn out and over worked at the bookstore and you can feel a change in the air. Soon enough a new crop of people will be hired to make up for the huge dent in our staff. New people bring a new dynamic while diminishing the atmosphere that we've created.

But for some reason this does not worry me. Not like it would have in the past.

I honestly, in my heart, know that this is the time for me to move on from the bookstore. It's as if some window has opened and I want to explore it without even looking back. I hope to hear something about another interview with my current dream network in the next day or two. This whole weekend I have been going over what I said, what I wish I would have said, and other very neurotic things in regards to Thursday. And all I can come back to in my mind is that this is a job I can do because I want to do it. Point Blank.

I am not a huge fan of change. I wish I could have talked about this more in therapy but Anxiety fueled much of my discussions then. Unless I am the one initiating it (change), I am perfectly okay with things remaining the same. I think it has to do with the sense that I never had a homestead. My family always moved just at the point where we were establishing sincere friendships and connections. Because of this I am accustomed to bailing on things (people) when it gets to close.

But what I've failed to realize is that I am changing every day. My wants and needs are so far from what they were two years ago. Where working at the bookstore was an adequate use of my time to pay off loans and get out of the house, it doesn't quite cut it anymore. I confessed to my mom that I sometimes feel bad when I apply to other jobs. And that when I went on the interview I felt like I was cheating on the bookstore. It's ridiculous I know, but that's what I felt. But why should I feel bad for wanting to do something extraordinary. For wanting (needing)to step outside of my comfort level and see what I can accomplish if I just...do it.

I don't know what is going to happen in the next few days. The perfect scenario would involve a second interview and subsequent job offer. I will only think of that scenario. I can only think of that one. But whatever happens, there is a window open. I can feel the breeze from outside luring me to step through the pane. And I will, because I can and I'm ready.

Big Girl Worries

On Tuesday I got wind of a very exciting, important, life changing opportunity that falls into the 'job' category of life these days.

Yeah. I wrote it. I was contacted about a potential job at an amazing network. But that's all I'm going to say about it because I don't want to mess this up. I applied some two weeks ago, after researching some things and I spent that weekend debating whether I would be fit for the position. The position has nothing to do with production or writing but I felt it was closer to my dream job than being at the bookstore.

So needless to say I was shocked to open my email two days ago asking for an interview! Less than 48 hours later, I sat in the lobby of said network, eyeing memorabilia and wondering how the hell I got to this point. The email was very short and direct. I would partake in a 15-20 minute interview with a Hiring Manager to see if I was a good enough applicant for a more thorough interview in the future.

I didn't have too long to prepare for this thing. I bought a blouse and a spiffy new beige jacket and a professional looking portfolio to hold my resume in. With only 20 minutes to meet with someone I knew the questions would be more universal "how do you qualify for this job" "tell me about yourself" sort of things but I still wanted to be prepared. I spent all of Wednesday reading interview books at the bookstore and trying to casually rehearse things in my head.

I got to the interview 20 minutes early and was calm and relaxed. I did what I could in the 20 minutes with the Hiring Manager. She asked about my college degree and my internships. I asked about the work environment there and what role the position would play in the company. It was a pleasant and formal meeting. I was enthusiast but not eager and she said I would hear back from her when she made a decision on who would, in all honesty, get to round 2.

I haven't slept that well the last couple of days. This is only the 2nd interview that I've had for a actually job, the first being the editorial assistant gig in bridgeport. One year ago, I was at this same point where a potential job was looking me in the face and all I have to do is...sell myself.

But unlike last year, I am not heading home in a few weeks because my aunt is passively kicking me out of her house. I, for the most part, am here to stay as long as I am able to afford this life here. And unlike last year where I applied to that position just for the hell of it, I actively sought this one out because my skills matched up and I fucking love this network. I had to control my urge to geek out when the elevator doors opened an there was this huge poster of....well, one of my favorite shows EVER (that is not buffy I mean)!

And I'm nervous. And scared. And am sooooo sick of working at the bookstore. And I want this. Badly. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this bad in my whole entire life. And all I can think about is getting that second interview. At being able to come up with answers to the questions that they throw at me so I can blow them away. I know if given the chance I can, but did I convince her of that in the 15 minutes I had. I don't know.

This could change so many things in my life. I will still be stressed out, and slightly lonely, and struggling with anxiety and writing. But I would have a secure, decent paying job at [insert awesome network]. After graduating school two years ago (damn) to move here I would have a full time gig.

It would be...lovely. But I am stressed about it. About the 'what if's'. There are 15 candidates for this job. If I get to round 2, I will have that extra something to get the job. IF i get to round 2. I don't know when I am going to hear about that. She said maybe today, but I have yet to see any thing in my inbox. I've been checking all day.

I just want this. More than my little heart can explain. And I don't want to keep wishing for good things to start coming my way, I want them to start occurring because I am more than ready (and qualified) for it. So yeah, my palms are sweating and my hearts racing and I am trying to stay positive but worried is more like it....

Keeping Mum

Something important has popped up. Something very important and very exciting that I want to scream to the whole entire world!



But I come from a very superstitious family. Seriously. From the time I was 6, I learned that stepping on cracks would injure my mother's back, and some much salt was thrown over shoulders we could have seasoned chicken with it.



One of my families favorite one is:'keep good new to yourself, until you are positive it is good news'. So yeah. Um. yeah, I don't want to say too much to threaten the awesomeness of this potential opportunity.



I got news of this yesterday, after a lackluster day of laying around and waiting for it to get dark outside. I checked my email after a nap and....big big news!

I called my mom, who then screamed on the phone and then warned me not to tell anyone about it. Not Marie, not my co-workers, no one. To her, once you let something like this slip out you taint the news because you've put it in someone else's hand. I told you, it's those Carolina superstitions that are born in our genes.


Tomorrow could be the beginning of a very important chain of events that could be the beginning of a new venture here. I'm excited, and nervous and feel really unprepared. I'm happy, and worried, and restless.

So fingers crossed for my very exciting yet all to secret thing tomorrow.

Disappearing Act

A mere four days after being shoved by a crazy drunk lady I was called an asshole today by a customer. On mother's day. As if, you know, my mom wouldn't be offended that someone called her kid an asshole.

To all those recent college graduates who will soon find themselves out of school with enough book knowledge to.... well write a book, but too little work experience to, I don't know, get a job, working in retail will suck. It will suck hardcore. There will be days when you will not have a name. Because people with names deserve a little bit of dignity and respect, and lets just say you can throw that concept outside the window once you get behind a register or a counter.

You will not only NOT have a name, but you will not have a past, present or future. It will not matter to customers that you graduated from college. That you once rescued children from a burning building or that you donated to UNICEF. In retail you are a face without a name. You are just a face, and a body, and worse a thing. A thing which people can project their anger, happiness, and frustrations on. You've been warned graduates. Don't say I didn't give you the heads up.

As soon as I got into work, 12-8, a co-worker warned me that customers were in a weird mood. She said it like that weird old guy in horror movies who warns you about the creepy legend surrounding the camp, haunted house, or woods that you know you are going to enter. In fact, I hate when people warn you about things at all, because then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. She said it was going to be a bad day, so that means it is going to be a bad day.

For the most part people were just frustrated about books that they wanted to buy but that we didn't have in the store. Of course they were shopping last minute for a mother's day gift which made it all the worse. I will never understand people who wait to the day of to buy gifts. It's not like we haven't been bombarded with mother's day reminders since April. So the store was packed.

Where the customers decided to get nasty were in their dissatisfaction with our ability to produce the service they wanted, just as they wanted it, when the wanted. Josh got yelled at by a guy who was unhappy that we didn't have a Obama bashing book in the store. He accused Josh and the store of being left winged and against conservatism. Another co-worker was told that she had wasted their (customers) time because she drove all the way down to the store to pick up a book she wasn't even sure we had (we didn't). Douches and Douchettes were swinging at us left and right and by the end of the day I was so over being a face without a name.

I only had two encounters with bad customers, but they were epic:

The first guy called the store because he bought an audio book that had a sticker on it for 20%. However it didn't ring up for 20% on his receipt and he wanted to know why he didn't get the discount. So I typed up the product number and go figure the item wasn't promo'd for anything. I told him that most likely it was once a promo but someone forgot to de-sticker it. He then got all irate. But it was stickered 20%, how could something accidentally be stickered 20%, it was on a table that had a bunch of other things stickered 20%.

Once again I explained the situation and that because it was our error he could return the item for the accidentally promo'd item. He then told me that I didn't sound like a manager and that I should be very careful telling him that he could get his 20% back if he couldn't and that he wanted to let all the stickering people that they made a huge error.

Having worked there for some time I know that anything stickered incorrectly has to be sold for the percentage marked off (we don't tell customers this until the moment they are yelling at us). I know this because I have had to do it several times, with a managers permission. And to me, if someone is telling you the price can be adjusted because of store error, I wouldn't question said person and threaten to call the stickering people police (he. said. this.). We went over this "but it says 20%", "I know, so you can return it and get the price adjusted but that's all I can do for you over the phone" before he said he was getting a little aggravated with me. We both hung up confused and dissatisfied (and the funniest thing. The book in question was called: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff).

The last lady (a mother no less) takes the cake though. I was at the cash register the last hour of my shift. For the most part it was uneventful, until the last five minutes. Josh and I were talking for a moment about hipsters and how awful they are when I heard someone do a 'hey you, come here now" whistle. I turn and it is this lady with her two kids waiting at the register. Josh splits and I start walking towards her. Automatically I know that she is at the wrong register (one down from mine) so I tell her as I pass her to sign in on mine that I am not at the register she is at. She doesn't hear me, because she is too busy preparing to get pissed.

She already had her books on the wrong counter, so I wait until she realizes that she is not at the right register. By then, she is livid. She pokes her head around to my register and mumbles 'you are so rude'. Maybe because I didn't grab the books off the register for her, maybe because I didn't do whistle at her like a dog to come hither. She slams her book at the right counter and gives me that stank eye.

When I ask her a question she answers in the affirmative and then whispers that I need to be written up by a manager because of how rude I am. ??? I ignore her and start ringing her up. She is seething, for reasons I am still not sure about and when the transaction is done she barely lets me get the books in the bag before she yanks it out of my hand. Remind you, her kids are still there, right beside her. As she walks away and mumbles "asshole!" and leaves the store.

By then someone was up there with me to cover the cash register and witnessed the angry lady and her attitude. She asked me 'what the hell was wrong with that lady' and all I could say was 'apparently i'm an asshole'. To be honest the whole exchange was absurd. There are a lot of things that I may be but asshole is not one of them. Not even close. But then I had to remember that to her I am not someones daughter, or a college graduate, or an okay writer with a blog. I am a nameless face, who is an asshole because she has deemed me one.

To say today was awful would be an understatement. It's bad enough that people deplete my energy but mean people destroy me. They chip at my particles and cause my whole to feel unsteady. Everyday I literally have to remind myself that I am a person. everyday. Some days are harder than others and I can feel myself start to disappear. Like one by one my limbs are fading away, erasing all traits of the person that I once was. It's a painful, brutal feeling. And after today, I feel less like a person than I have in a very long time. And not because some lady called me an asshole or that some guy on the phone was being a jerk but because being a nameless face I couldn't refute their assumptions about me.

I could only, smile sadly and say 'have a nice day', only to feel like crap now because I've disappeared completely into myself again.

Temperature Rising.

So a relatively 'famous' celeb/author came to our store last night and I am still recovering.

I'd like you to know that the night ended with me getting shoved by a drunk lady. Oh, yeah my life just keeps getting better.

Said 'celebrity' was a famous teen actor who has some how rebounded from obscurity with some recent stints on reality tv which has opened a bunch of doors for him. Oh, and by general 15 year old girl standards he is pretty hot.

I don't know how to explain it. His show was flipping huge in the late 80's and 90's. I woke up every weekend to the sound of the theme song playing on the tv. His character was legendary and you would have had to been born, lived, and died under a rock to not have seen this thing on syndication. But I think the idea of celebrity is weird. You take a person, shove them in front of a camera and immediately we get this sense that we know them. Or more perplexing that they are more valuable then us.


It's even more confusing when we replace them every few years with someone younger and less talented. I don't get it.

We've known about this event for weeks! And at first we were all really excited but that was quickly replaced by terror. Hot attractive 'famous person' does a book signing in a vapid community of teeny boppers and bored housewives and you lose the excitement factor. All I could think about was a) I would have to work that night and b) I would have to clean up after the event was over. Fun times.

The whole night was complete chaos. Every other phone call was about the event, and every other customer question revolved around the event. Yes you need wrist bands, he might take pictures, no you cannot bring old memorabilia, seriously.

Then some asshole in the cafe kept coming to customer service to ask if we could turn down the music playing over the speakers because he was studying for an exam. Who comes to a bookstore to study in the first place. It's not a library, and then who complains about the music being too loud to concentrate. Go home, if the music is too loud or better yet go to a library. They have nice little silent cubbie holes for studying.

He kept coming back every 10 minutes to remind us that the music still was too loud. I seriously felt like telling him to go home because loud music was the least of his problems. If you see a guy in his early 20's with tight light blue jeans and a collard white shirt with weird dirty blond hair of a poodle walking around, poke him for me.

The event of course started late and by then the women and handful of men (one with a very prominent boner) were getting restless. Let me get back to the boner guy. He is banned from the store because he threatened to shot a customer a few weeks ago. I wasn't there. I don't really know what happened but the managers said if we saw him to alert someone immediately.

I've never really helped him locate stuff before because he always knows what he wants. Gay Porn. Lots of it. And not the gay lit that we have in the section, I'm talking hardcore gay magazines with the shrink wrap. The only time I encounter him is when he is purchasing a shit load of porn. And it's creepy. Not the porn (well that too) but because he looks like an offender. He's around 60, out of shape, always sweating with loose fitting sweat pants and you know what he does with the porn when he gets home. You just do.

So I was kind of surprised when I saw him round the corner to customer service. The managers were too. He was clutching one of the 'authors' book, with an eager look on his face and very prominent tent in his pants. And though I am not an expert in boys or their boners, it was way obvious that he was very excited. very.

"Where can I buy the book that his is signing" says boner guy. I nod my head to the front of the store and him and balls head towards the register. For some reason the manager didn't call the cops on him because in her words "that's one more sale for the store" I hate the bookstore. Hate it.

As soon as 'famous guy' came the girls started screaming. The screams were full of intense hormonal attraction. Not only were they yelling but they started standing on the shelves, causing things to collapse. One lady even left her child unattended in the children's department so she could get a picture with him. Horrible.

I must admit, I got a glimpse of him and he looked like a wax figure. I saw him round the corner and was like 'he looks exactly like his picture'. That was the extent of my interest. No lie. I spent the rest of the night rubbing my temple because my head hurt. I don't do well in crowds, I don't do well in crowds where people are screaming and crying. I just don't

Amazingly we were a still functioning bookstore despite the disappearance of two managers and a couple of employees. I got stuck at customer service where I would eventually encounter the drunk lady who shoved me.

She comes there all the time and I usually avoid her but my head hurt and I wanted a break from the screaming girls. She wanted to know if we had an AA book (of course she did) but the one she wanted we don't carry in our store. So she asked me to take her to the section. I took her to the addiction/ recovery aisle and pointed out some revelant books. I said bye and then I turned and saw an employee. So I started talking to said employee about how the event was going. She was standing in front of the break room because 'celeb' was getting ready to leave and they wanted to barricade hallway from women.

As I was talking, the drunk lady kept saying 'thank you. you can go now. thank you'. I turned around and told her that I wasn't helping her anymore and that I could talk to my friend if I wanted to (my head hurt. bitchiness ensues). She mumbled that she couldn't look for books with me around to which i replied that standing in the same aisle doesn't imply me looking over her. I turned back to employee to resume the conversation (really just to get on drunk ladies nerves now) and then drunk lady said 'no seriously thank you' while she attempted to push me out of the aisle. Gently, of course, but still. Hands made contact with my shoulder, as she was shoving me away from the addiction shelves. I turned around and she mumbled 'you know what i can't do this' and then shuffled away.

Someone teleport me out of this place. I will pay you in short stories and poetry.

As soon as 'sort of celeb person' left so did the crowd, and we spent about two hours cleaning up the mess. It was ridiculous. I don't understand people. From the women dressed like high class hookers to drunk lady I just am too exhausted with life right now. I am still on a vicious job hunt that has me applying to 6-8 positions a week. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Keeping my head above water, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It's so easy to want to slip under the surface and let the current take me. I sometimes want no control over this body that I possess.

Becks

Humidity Wave.

It's hot. Really hot. And I want to complain to the sun or the humidity or both to let up on the heat for a while. Seriously. I am melting here.

I know. I know. I lived in the south for ten years. But you know what the south has that new york doesn't....central AC. And it's amazing! In my book there are few things that I like about south carolina more than New York. But Central Air and Heat keeps the Carolina's near and dear to my heart. Who needs to go outside when you have cool air coming through the vents. Some days looking outside made me feel all sweaty, but thanks to AC, I would sit in my house and not feel it at all.

How I miss that. The last couple of days have been miserable. Like a bat out of hell, May charged in and pushed April out of the way. It brought along with it an unusual warm front. Ever since Saturday we have been drowning in very humid weather. I can't sleep at night, I am being eaten alive by mosquito's and despite wanting to stay inside it's a little cooler outside.

I've never wanted a thunderstorm more. Or just a random cold front to happen. I may be the only person who despises this weather, but if you saw the huge (huge!) bite mark on my arm and middle finger you'd agree.

In all honesty though, I can't believe May is already here. Come August I will have been out of college for 2 years. And come September the same will be true of my time living in New York. I had a crazy dream last night about work, McAbs, Marie, my brother and mom, Lenny and Simon. And I can't help but parallel it to my post grad life.

I can't fully comprehend the last two years of my life. It's not so much that they have flown by but where I have made real strides (figuring out what I want to do, meeting Angie) I've faced setbacks that are equivalent (job search anybody.living with and then being kicked out of my aunts house). There are days when I just want to pack up and go home. Not having to pay rent would be awesome and lounging in my mom's house with AC is a perk.

I feel at odds with my life. I feel tension arising from all fronts of my emotional and physical state. The summer before I graduated I attended two summer sessions at school. The summers in Columbia were brutal because we are surrounded by concrete and steel. Being in the middle of the state does not help, and are lack of a 'real' river called for some horrible summer days.

One day we had an epic thunderstorm. From my window, I could see these ominous looking clouds from outside. Then all of a sudden the power went out. It was so quiet and so dark that I was actually pretty freaked out. Everyone emerged from their dorms to ask what was going on, but then before you knew it we all went back into our little holes.

I had nothing to do, so I remember tentatively writing a story about the storm and the blackout. And how in the that hour or so that I had to sit alone with myself. And it was this very stifling feeling. The heat creates this tension that envelopes you. I mean your skin perspires, your head hurts, my body gets really tense but then on this emotional level I was forced to deal with my own tensions about graduating and changing my major. I found some parallel between the heat and my own tensions. All of this because of the storm and the heat and the subsequent blackout that lasted for two hours.

And I realize that when it gets hot. I don't want to do anything outside of laying really still and letting the sun do what it will to me. But because it's physically immobilizing, all I can do is think rampant thoughts about my life. About staying in New York, not staying here, or going home where the AC always run.

But anytime I get that feeling I have to push it aside. Because I know that I would not be happy there. My mom knows this too. But I can't help but feel a little unhappy here also. 2 years into the real world and I don't have a grasp of what I am doing or what to do to make things better. And now May is all of a sudden here, and it's hot and I'm sweaty and I'm still a little dissatisfied about life and what to do about it.

Why Not To Sign Release Papers.

Um...Yeah.

So about two months ago I was running errands on my day off. I really love running errands and I wish I was being sarcastic. But I'm not. I love grocery shopping, trips to the library, browsing stores...you get the picture. I like having nothing to do, except the small things that keep me going.

Which is why the library is my favorite place in the whole entire world. Free Books. Free Dvd's. Free Cd's. Sure you can only have them for a limited amount of time but still....Freebies. And this library is amazing. Three floors, a stellar computer area (sans the porn watching fellows) and their dvd rental is like being in a video store. You can find new releases if you look hard enough, and some days you can find movies that I didn't even know where on DVD.

I spend a huge chunk of my time at the library. I love their collection and I love coming home with a handful of stuff. So on that day, two months ago, when I stopped at the library after buying some clothes from the mall and food, I was eager to pick out a few books and dvd's for myself.

But in an attempt to draw more patrons to the library, they were doing this campaign of sort to take pictures of normal people taking advantage of the services provided by the library. Their pictures would appear in the bi-monthly newsletter. I did not know this then. I was simply picking out a crapload of book when I noticed a professional photographer snapping pictures of people. I didn't really think he would take a pic of me. But then as I was standing in some aisle contemplating what books, out of the ten that I had pulled, I would bring home I saw Mr. Camera Man from the corner of my eye. I knew that he wanted to take a picture of me, but because I spotted him I started to smile because I knew the picture was ruined. He snapped at me anyway and then asked if I wouldn't mind taking some pictures in front of the Teen area because I look like I am in high school.

What was I suppose to say? No. I don't feel comfortable having my picture taken. Sorry, but I 'd rather not. Hey, I don't look like a teenager. But I just said yes, because I love the library. I mean love the place, and hey a few pictures here and there can't hurt. They probably wont even use it. So he snapped some pics of me looking very pensive and annoyed. awkward and strained in front of the teen books. I don't even think I smiled, it was more of a 'is this over yet' smirk. He thanked me for my patience and then the librarian who was escorting him around asked if I would sign some release papers, so that they could use the pictures if necessary. I did, because honestly I didn't think they would use them.

But two days ago, I was making the rounds at my favorite day off places and I stopped at the library to pick up some books. As I was walking to the entrance I noticed that the windows of the library now featured various poster like promos from that photo op day. Posters featuring people in the library doing patron like things. One guy was reading the newspaper, another lady was standing at the circulation desk talking to the librarian, and then another young lady with a striking resemblance to me, is standing in front of the teen aisle smirking...wait a minute...is that my motherfucking face!

Yes. It. Is. I'm not only featured in some newsletter like I was told. Instead my face, along with others, is plastered on the ground floor, wall length windows! And of course, for some reason, my photo is placed near the entrance of the library.... for everyone to see. I am holding ten books, listening to my ipod, carrying a Charlotte Rouse bag and looking like a teenager. What the hell?!?!?

I had to do a double take. Then a triple take. Then I called my mom, but she didn't answer. Then I called Marie but she didn't answer. Then I tried to cover the picture with my hand but it's pasted on the inside of the window.

Mortified is the only word I have.

So yeah, don't sign release papers unless you want to be on some poster for the library. I don't know how long that crap picture is going to be up, but I hope they take it down soon. Because last night I was stopped by a customer who saw my picture and who wanted to give me the thumbs up 'for my 15 minutes of fame'. I'm good, I don't want any 15 minutes of anything. I prefer fading in the background most days.

April Showers!

And it was so sunny last week?

Today I woke up to rain. Lots of it. Of course, I love-love-love the rain and didn't mind being trapped inside the house all day.

Actually I preferred it. I had some tentative plans with people at work today but there is something about cloudy skies and rain drops that do it for me. I didn't want to do anything outside of staring at it all day.

So I cancelled those plans. And then I read some books, listened to music and wrote. If there was a part time job like that (because I couldn't do that everyday, it would take the pleasure out of it) I would apply in a heart beat.

Lately I am trying to catch up on reading more books. When I first moved to South Carolina I had absolutely no friends. Most of my junior high and high school years were spent talking to people at school but not really having a social life.

Because of this I spent most of my weekends a) watching lifetime movies with my mom in the living room or b) reading until I couldn't read anymore. I could start and finish books in the same day. I even had a special spot in my house. Right in front of the window in my room laying on my stomach. It was amazing!

However once I graduated high school, reading went from being a hobby to something I was required to do. So I stopped reading for fun. I mean I will find a book every once in awhile that I have to finish (Columbine by Dave Cullen, Informers by Bret Easton Ellis) but for the most part I can spend hours in the library, check out a handful of books and finish none of them. Yeah. It's pretty bad.

Recently I got an advance copy of Bret Easton Ellis' new novel. I don't know how much I am allowed to say about it. If anything at all. But whatever, it's just my opinion after all. His new novel takes place 20 years after the events in Less Than Zero. I can see what he is attempting to do. Revisit old characters whose habits remain the same. But it pains me how cliche it all seems to be now. Where generational references created an atmosphere in Less Than Zero (that in all honesty I spend time trying to master in my own writing) it seems super forced in this new novel. Like when he mentioned watching the The Hills and using an IPhone, I cringed. Cringed! I fear that in the last half of the book I will see some sentence where he references Facebook. Then I'll have to throw the damn book out the window.

All day I tried to read it. All day I wanted to finish it. But I am only half way through and I know finishing this novel entail Will. Will I tell you. It's not that it's bad, but there are moments when I am reading and I think 'really, was the mention of an Iphone necessary!, you could have just said I picked up the phone' When I couldn't force my eyes to read anymore, I watched another episode of Dr. Who and checked out plane ticket prices to England (almost a grand, there must be another way).

I have absolutely no hours this weekend (3 days, all closing shifts spaced out so far that I barely see cause to be there) but I don't mind. Outside of the money thing, I like having a break from that place. I am really in a funk about new york, work, and my life right now. My need for escape is reaching an all time high and I hate feeling stumped. About what to do next, about which turn to take, about how strong I need to be. And of course I am feeling all sorts of stumped lately. But for some reason the rains alleviates that feeling for a while. Only for a little while. but long enough for me to re-group and continue.

With Love and Squalor

Dear Doctor Who,

You have no idea who I am but name is Beckett Amelia Hughes and I was wondering if I could runaway with you. Life, has been less than stellar these last two years. I mean outside of my random moments of excitement I am beginning to fall out of love with life again. Not in a way that would ever be harmful to myself, but that in a way affects the spirit some days.

But then I ran across you, the doctor, and your promises of adventure via the BBC. And you know what, I trusted you immediately which I don't have a tendency of doing, especially towards men who wear bow ties. I mean hell, I don't even know much about you. You regenerate every few years. You are a Time Lord who travels space, and for some reason you have this running joke about your TARDIS being bigger on the inside.

Despite those apprehension I marvel at your adventures and the things you have seen. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I was hoping, maybe, that you would consider me as a future companion. I do like my travels, and though sometime adventure scares me I never back down from a good one.

Whenever you tire of Amy Pond, or she decides to end her travels with you, I am ready to take her place, in space. I know that I will see all sorts of things including 'ghost from the past. aliens from the future. and the day the Earth died in a ball of flame'. But I am ready, and willing, because I know it will be a trip of a lifetime.

Sincerely,

Becks

Imperial Bedrooms

Guess who got an advance reader copy of Bret Easton Ellis new book. Hint: It's me!

Seriously, this is the only perk of working at the bookstore (outside of the discount, but in all honesty I don't buy too books anymore. The library has become my friend). And I am ready to finish this thing, it's so good and classic Ellis.

I began my morning at 6:30, so that I could get ready for another hair day with a friend from work. We like our hair days. Of course we wanted to get to the hairdresser before a crowd formed and by 10 o'clock we were camped out in the salon patiently awaiting Nicole who just may be the best damn hair stylist ever!

Afterwards, I had to make my way back to the bookstore to say goodbye to my friend whose last day at work is well...today. It wasn't easy, I hate saying goodbye. I don't know why we have to do them. But I liked this guy a lot. He was one of the first people I actually befriended at work. His leaving hurts worse than anyone else's departure. I know soon, that the dynamic at work will change drastically. May is fast approaching, which means a bunch of people will be graduating and heading home. The few that will remain don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. And then you have me, stuck in the crossroad.

A fresh crop of 'newly graduated from college' ' I won't be here long' kids will replace old faces, and this depresses me. And now motherfucking Ry (my nickname for him) is leaving. I can't stomach it. So I said my goodbye to him in the break room and then he gave me a bear hug and promised that he would come and visit.

As I was leaving I saw an advance reader copy of Imperial Bedrooms (Bret. Easton.Ellis!!!!) and I immediately grabbed it for my reading pleasure. This time last year, I had finally forced myself to read Less Than Zero and I love it. I then proceeded to read The Informers (my favorite novel by him so far) and Rules of Attraction. Some people get him, some people don't...but for reason, unknown to even me, he has become one of my favorite authors to read.

Anyway, now I'm home. I have to go to work from 10-6 tomorrow and I can almost bet my favorite manager will be there for all of her passive aggressive managerial skills. I need to get out of this place. I applied to a job yesterday that I of course have hopes for but cannot get to excited about until I hear something back.

I'm just ready for things to be different already. As everyone moves on and progresses, I continue to feel left behind and incomplete. I hate that feeling and I don't know how to make it any better.

Now time for some Imperial Bedrooms, where my life can never get as bad as the drug addicted, self indulgent teens growing up to be drug addicted, self indulgent adults. Now that's my type of novel.

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.