Nostalgic for a place you thought you'd never miss

I wish i could say that i have been doing something incredibly cool and time consuming my first week home.

That i finally got my drivers license and took that road trip i have been dying to take. That i started my Jack Kerouac inspired journey, with only a few books and a little money to get me by.

But that would be a lie. And lying ain't cool.

Doing nothing, is closer to the truth. After some R & R, laundry, and more R & R, i decided i had slept enough for 100 people. I checked my grades online and i came out with a sweet GPA for my last semester. Two more classes down and i will be a college graduate. I have just started my job hunt for the summer, which has been a little disappointing because everyone requires you to submit an online application. There is something so impersonal about an online application. Like you are categorized right off the back by how you answer a question.

I applied a couple of weeks back to a bookstore....online. The general questions were easy "why do you want to work here?". But after I answered the normal questions the application asked me if i wanted to take a survey. At first i clicked "no" but then it said that my application wouldn't get processed unless i took the 'short' survey.

This survey had about 70 questions (followed by 4 choices)all of which were to weed out the bad applicants from the good one. Some of the questions were no brainers: If you saw someone steal something what would you do? If you get an unruly customer what would you do? Yadda Yadda Yadda.

But then there was a question like "If a co-worker was having a problem with another co-worker and came to you for help what you would suggest?" "If a co-worker was having financial problems and was thinking of stealing money from the store what would you do?"

Some of the choices were blatantly right, but perhaps it's my ability to over think everything that got me all confused. Why would this co-worker come to me and tell me she was planning on stealing something? Office disputes aren't really my thing, unless i get to watch the fight from the sidelines with soda and popcorn, so fight on co-workers. FIGHT ON.

Needless to say i have not heard back from them, and when i went there this morning to see if i can fill out an application IN PERSON, she said they only do online applications. Here i go again. I have checked out two summer camp places and just hope that my application gets into human hands. I don't know what kind of camp counselor i would be, but i wouldn't mind playing tag and kicking some soccer balls.

In the meantime while i wait for someone (anyone) to call my cell, i went on a mission to create a writing space in my room. All last week i attempted to write something, but couldn't seem to write in my bed. In bed I have to write at an angle and that angle usually means my head is resting on a pillow, which then means i fall asleep and wake up to late to want to write.

I refuse to waste away in this house with daytime TV and baby mama drama (thanks Maury). And because i seriously have to develop a portfolio, i need the perfect writing space to do so. The bed obviously wasn't working, so a couple of days ago i got this ancient little desk from a thrift store. The color was off white and it looked like spiders were keeping shop in the drawers. A few hours later after some sanding and painting, my pretty little desk has found a new home.

Where writing can be done, and dream can be made.

I'm still have difficulty with finding the right chair. The desk itself is small, and the chair i am using now does not go underneath. With my mom in tow we went back to the thrift store we bought the desk and found a semi decent chair that i could sand and paint. Unfortunately this chair had some weird serial number on it, which freaked us out to no end.

"maybe it was once used at a school" "or a jail" "or an asylum for the criminally insane!?!?" It didn't help that as we were checking the chair out and creating stories about it's torrid past, a creepy employee kept an eye on us marking a new sale for him today. He inched his way closer and closer until he was standing right next to my mom.

"You like that chair" he began with this Cheshire grin on his face.

"yeah, it'll do for this desk we just bought"

When he picked up the chair to bring it to the cash register he noticed the serial number plate on the back of the chair

"You know it has a serial number it?" he smiled.

"Yeah, what does it mean "

".....Oh nothing" and then he let out the craziest laugh in the whole entire world. I think my mom and I both went wide-eyed all of a sudden with fear. For the next five minutes we went back and forth about the chair, the guy, and the serial plate with hushed voices and petrified eyes.

So to make a long story short...I'm still on a hunt for a chair.