Fucking Eh...

Now I really want a Mac.

I was suppose to recieve my wall charger today for my computer.

Instead the motherf*ckers sent me a new battery. Not a charger. So though I can now use my computer I only have about 90% battery life remaining. Kill me now.

In another 5-6 days I should be able to use my computer once and for all. Until then, I am stuck working like a mad woman and crying to sleep in my pillow.

These past few weeks have given me a lot of time to think about the future. And Grad school has never looked sweeter.

I swear I'm coming back to blogland. Don't abandon me yet. I need all the support I can get these days.

Why I want A Mac

My computer has died for the 2nd time in two years. I am having serious problems with my computer battery overheating. It overheats so much that it hurts when you touch it, and it also eventually burns a hole through some important wires. Which leads to a very flammable situation.

My cousin is home for the weekend, and due to being a very popular guy I am left at home with his cool Mac. I love this thing though it is not mine. 

I should receive my new battery in the mail on Monday, but until then I have been busying myself with a new story I concocted yesterday during work. I hate my job, and I want nothing more than to run away from the bookstore every chance I get. Though I am not suppose to do anything 'recreational' on the job, I keep  scrap paper with me everywhere I go and secretly write down story ideas in the aisles and at the cash register. 

So if you are ever in a bookstore and you see some girl hiding in the philosophy section with a pen and paper... it's Me. Trust me. 

No word from The Editor yet. I have losing hope that I will get this internship and have already begun planning what to do next to escape the drudgery of work. My spirits however are high, I feel like I am getting somewhere with this story. 

Until then...

~Becks

The Bell Jar.

Yesterday a customer asked me to recommend a book for them. This occurs a lot more at the bookstore than it ever did at the library. Sometimes I just pull a title off of the 'popular favorites' table and call it a day. Other times I make a sincere effort to get a vibe off of the customer and then lead them to a book I think they might like.

Teens seem to gravitate towards me the most during this recommendation process. They are usually at that age where they don't want to read teen fiction and are looking for a great novel to start with. This is a pretty hard task, except for yesterday. If i was 16 years old I think I totally ran into my best friend yesterday. She was super cool and edgy with a funny European dad. Sometimes she looked embarrassed by him other times she was totally amused. She came in wearing this wicked awesome army jacket with patches sewn onto the sleeve. When i saw her and started talking to her, I instantly wished I could be 16 years old again and hang out with her.

It was her dad who asked me first for a recommendation, and after shooting out a few titles we all decided that The Bell Jar (one she hadn't read) was the one she wanted to read. Sylvia Plath is just awesome and I now know why I was so drawn to it when I was 16. Of course I didn't have an explanation for it then, I just assumed I liked it because I could relate to Esther's angst at 16. I mean who doesn't have a little bit of that at that age.

Hell I have a little bit of that now.

I still suffer daily from my disillusionment with the New York dream. Other than a stable (yet uninspiring) job, the excitement of being in the 'city', and falling back into the routine of being a real new yorker ( purchasing my first real pair of savvy shoes and buying a butter roll from a corner store) there is something incomplete in my life.

During my break yesterday, I nearly cried for no reason at all. I had just gotten off the phone with my mom where we had a lengthy conversation about well...me. I confessed to her that I miss feeling important, I missed feeling like i was someone other than that new girl at work. The truth is at school i was constantly reminded of my importance but more importantly my potential. I was defined by academics and writing. At the end of the day I was okay with my anxiety and bouts of sadness because I felt safe knowing that my professors and peers knew I was a good writer and that I had talent. Some kind of talent.

I kept asking her on the phone if it was weird that I needed someone to believe in me. That guidance makes me feel safe and important. She did the mom thing of course and said that i first need to know my own worth before I can expect it from others. Yadda Yadda Yadda. I'm still contemplating that answer in my head.

She is worried that i am depressed here (which could or could not be true) and she thinks that once i land this internship all of my worries will fade away. But for some reason I know my current 'weirdness' is not solely confound to internship worries. There is just the place that I cannot even locate, a feeling that I can't even describe of complete and utter disconnection from who i am, who i was, and who i want to be.

I haven't written anything in a while. I carry around a bright red notebook that everyone at work wants to pry into. I was trying to work on a story in it (during my break yesterday) when I noticed a co-worker behind me looking at what i was writing. I felt embarrassed and invaded, and he turned in the opposite direction as if I hadn't seen him.

What he may or may not know was that i was not working on my story but instead was writing down some thoughts of the day:

I'd like to feel important again, whatever that means. I don't think I'm depressed I am just dealing with the reality of my own illusions. Value first and foremost should come from the center of your being. It must be practiced, cherished, and all encompassing. But for those who think it does not have external value, they are liars. Our internal worth, our spirit and even our essence is often externalized by other people. Our importance is reflected off the people we come into contact with daily, like a mirror revealing an image of ourselves. Have I mentioned that I have not been able to stare at myself in the mirror for weeks. I am afraid of what I will see. I am afraid of who I will find staring back at me.

I feel emotionally depleted at work, I feel useless during the day, I want to write but I am holding my words inside for fear of who will trample on them, and despite the constant affirmation of general importance to family I feel invisible in a place where people are every where.

Geez. I didn't mean for this to be such a depressing post.

I recommended the Bell Jar to the awesome 16 year old after my weird 'teary spell' in an aisle. My co-workers (who still keep a close eye on me) asked my why I choose that of all books for her to read. One of the girls I work with said she just couldn't get into it, and after a few pages she put it down and never looked back.

I have never known depression like Plath. I don't even suspect that I've suffered from it fully. Anxiety has made me prone to depressive like symptoms but for the most part I am just a highly sensitive human being who feels incredible lows and highs.

So when my co-worker asked me why that was my favorite book of all time I wanted to say so badly that " I know how it feels. I just know how she felt". But that would have required to much explanation.

Today i had a day off, and spent it sleeping and reading. I also spent a couple of hours strutting in my new shoes because they cost me a pretty penny. The new book I am reading was actually recommended to me by a customer. It's called Elmer Gantry by Sinclair Lewis and after spending 15 minutes discussing books in the aisle with some old guy named Richard we both decided to by the book. I usually don't buy books that customers recommended (because every one has a book they think you will love), but Richard was cool and he sold me on the book (though I should have been selling him on it).

Time to strut and read. A very hard thing to do in heels.

My Other Husband Isn't Dead!!

I woke up this morning to breaking entertainment news.

A plane crashed in Columbia, SC after a concert which featured my on and off husband GAVIN DEGRAW.

There was no word on those who died but it was

reported that Gavin was one of them.

NOOOO!!!!!

Fortunately he is alive and well!!! I could cry.

I send my condolence to the four people who did die.

Time Alone.

TGIF!!

My aunt has had the last three days off which has not given me much time to myself. I told my mom that I love my alone time after being with people for too long. When i said this she did her weird concerned voce and said she was afraid that my brother and I may have antisocial behavior. She attributes this to our need for alone time and wonders if either of us will ever be in a stable relationship (because my brother has only been in bad ones and I have been in none).

For someone who has just given away my cats to some god awful---I don't even want to know---place, raising these new concerns about my relationships are imposing and irritating. Even if she does have a point.

I have recently discovered that I am a needy person. And not in that oh-so-crazy way. I like taking care of things, I like affection, I like being important which is odd because I am so guarded that no one can get close to me.

I made this discovery this summer because of my affections for Stephen. Though I was clearly attracted to him, and he was not shy of his interest, curiosity, and puzzlement over me there was this physical blockade that prevented me from hanging out with him more. Let me go through my last meeting with Stephen, which I have been too embarassed to discuss here.

I was shelf reading on the first floor by myself one dayto make sure that all the books in a particular aisle were in the right place. This can take a pretty long time, so I took a seat in the aisle and began reading the shelves. Stephen works on the first floor, and sometimes we would see each other from a distance. He would smile, and I would run into something. I swear to Bob. On this particualr day, i was shelf reading right near the office he worked in and mid book, I noticed him from the corner of my eye walking towards the office. He noticed me too, because he sort of walked slowly by glancing in my direction.

Instead of being a normal 22 year old flirtateous girl, who would have said "hey Stephen" I ignored him because i was nervous. This would not have been a bad thing, if he hadn't walked by my aisle so many damn times to make it obvious that he wanted me to notice him. Not only did he walk by the aisle but he went to the soda machine (a few feet away) and took the longest time deciding what drink he wanted. It was excruitating. I wanted to go up to him. I wanted to be that girl. Confidant and cute and flirty. But instead, I just sat there and let the guy I liked walk away with some lame soda.

Needless to say for a girl who wants to be wanted and needed I don't do such a good job of putting myself out there.

Mike always complained that I was there but not there. Like even though we were friends he felt distant from me. At the time, I told him that was complete bullcrap and to finish eating so we could get back to studying. But as I sit here now, a couple of years after his observation I feel like he has a point.

Yes we were friends. Yes we knew things about each other that we wouldn't admit to anyone else but he never knew what I was feeling. About him, about our friendship, or about my part in the relationship. I can see now why he was utterly exhausted by me. I mean this is going to be a horrible analogy but imagine being a kid who has just recieved a present you can't play with. You can see the toy, you know will have love it but you are forbidden to get too close because of the steel box that contains it.

Hell I'd be frustrated too.

At 22, I have built my wall so high that i've missed out on opportunities that I desperately want. I want to feel important and needed by people outside my immediate family. And as i still continue and try to be socially revelant, this need has become a worry that i can't shake. When i think about the future, outside of a career, it's my relationships that i worry about. I know what i want (to be needed) but I can't step outside my own paralysis to open up and just be me.

I guess I just have to keep working at it.

Confusion Overload.

I had a shittastic day at work (i think i was called a asshole on the phone) and I have just returned to a quiet house. I checked my email, only moments ago to see if the editor sent me anything in the mail.

I wrote my reader response for the shittastic book I read this past week. When i say it was bad, I mean it was really bad. There was nothing about it that i liked. So when i wrote the response my review for the book involved the line "valiant effort but not worth pursuing".

I mean I do not know if my taste is just off or something but I hated the book. Hated it.

I was so excited to see an email from The Editor just a minute ago, because I knew she would agree with some of the points I made in my reader response.

Turns out....SHE LIKE THE BOOK. I mean really liked it (she wrote that specifically in the email). WTF?!?!?!?! Did we read the same story? Did I judge this craptastic story too harshly? I mean she is an Editor and I am a mere college graduate?!?!?!? Could I have gotten the post energy crisis, animal possessing, street running, cia government story all wrong.

Hell No. I stand by my opinion but what does this mean for my internship?.

She said my critiques brought up some good points about the stories weaknesses (which could be a good thing) and that she will get in contact with me real soon. At this point I have no clue where i stand with this internship. I really want it ( I mean really) and I just hope my different stance on the quality of this novel does not get in the way.

What a great way to end a crappy night. Time for bed.

Working Girl

My computer battery is dying (for the second time in 2 years) so I've limited my computer usage until i can swing by Best Buy and order a new one. Luckily I have the warranty this time.

I am still sad about my cats, but my avoidance technique has prevented me from crying at work or at my Aunt's house. I use to hold grudges like no other, and my mom figured I would never talk to her again (which often crossed my mind). But i forgave a couple of hours later, though I wanted to cry and be angry all day.

I still want to cry and be angry all day, but I don't think that will get me anywhere.

In other news....I may have an internship after all!! After a two week wait and no word from the editor I emailed her back to ask if the position was still opened (that's called initiative). A few hours later she said that the intern position was still open but that i would have to read a manuscript she received a week ago, critique it, and write up a synopsis of the story along with whether or not this story should be published.

I was so excited. I mean here is my big chance to get into publishing. Here is my big chance to get the ball rolling on my career. So I opened the manuscript attachment she put in the email...and this is literally one of the worst stories I have ever read in my whole entire life. It's actually 415 pages of the worst stories i have ever read in my life.

I am slowly plowing through it, and I have no choice but to finish it today so I can email her my critique before the deadline. I have complained about this story several times to my mom (withholding some info because I don't know how the confidentiality thing works). But my complaints about the story (long, boring, unrealistic) are really just masking how excited I really am.

I have often heard that when you get into publishing you don't really read a whole lot of good stories. Often times you are stuck reading more garbage then anything else. But to me there is something interesting and exciting about the one story you do come across that stirs your interest. So far this book is not the one. It's convoluted, strange and unrealistic (let's say that there was a huge power outage in the whole world, turning big cities into a wasteland of crime and gangs. How then, in a 20 year span could there be a miraculous evolution of people into these half man half beast animals. I wasn't a biology major for too long, but I covered evolution. And i think it takes a lot longer than 20 years).

I know i was probably sent the suckiest story of the whole bunch, to see how I would deal with it. Even though she said that i didn't have to read the whole story (should it but good awful. Which it is) I am determined to finish all 415 pages. Which is a goal I can accomplish because I'm almost done. Now i just have to write about my report about why this book should never published. Not an easy task when phrases like "this shit is garbage" cannot be used.

I want this internship so bad. And as long as my report is good, I should be in the running for something. Let's hope. Work is not really fulfilling, and I want to meet people in my field. So I have the creative artsy feeling again. I miss it.

Time to finish this story.

The Real World Officially Sucks.

My mom gave my cats away.

She said she couldn't take care of them anymore.

They weren't really her cats anyway, but mine. And my BIG MOVE only meant that they would see less and less of me.

When I was home they behaved, were friendly and gave cat kisses.

When I was not home, they pooped on the couch, threw up every where, and peed on clothes.

I'm not really shocked, just hurt.

Now along with no cats, I have this shitty job, no internship, and my NEW YORK dream going down the drain one book sell after another.

Throwing in the towel never looked so sweet.

I'm beaten down, people. This last blow may have taken the fight out of me.

Going to the Country.

It's Friday!!! Thank god. I've never been so happy to see a Friday afternoon in my whole life.

Me and another girl are still under constant supervision at work. Sometimes we definitely need to be supervised (what do you do if someone wants to order something that is not in the store) and other times it is not necessary. Like reminding us that spelling counts, that you have to bring the customer to the book and place it in their hands, and answer the phone in four rings or less. I guess repeating this over and over well beat it into our heads.

I was wrong when i said Keith was perv. I guess i got a wrong impression from his blood shot shifty eyes. He's actually pretty nice though a little too intense for his age. He recently got married, recently got a promotion, and now has 3 new employees to train. He looks on the verge of a breakdown like one day his body will literally buckle under him. It wouldn't deter him from making sure everyone is working, being productive, and greeting customers with a smile. Even if he is giving orders from floor.

Of course I had to get hired the same day they hired an extremely cute, tough and funny girl born here (Natalie). I wish i could say i hated her but I don't. She's pretty nice and outspoken, and for 20 has this tough exterior thing that you know is a facade but it's adorable. The last two days I have often been abandoned by employees who want to talk to her instead of me. So though it is an interesting job to have, i can't help but miss having employees who all liked me. That's how Amanda use to introduce me anyway to all the new employees: "that's Beckett, we love her you will too"

Starting a new job means having to situate myself all over again. It took me a year just to make a name for myself with the library staff. Debbie Downer recently emailed me to say that David (cute emo kid with a girlfriend) said he missed me. It made my day because i played a wicked game of Rock Band with him. I don't warm up to people instantly and sometimes I can come off as distant and standoffish, when in all actuality I am just shy and wanting interaction. Natalie has the interaction thing down. She's an lively extrovert while i am a contemplative introvert. Damn sometimes i hate being an introvert.

I have Saturday off which is a good thing, but unfortunately Hurricane Hanna has some other plans for the NorthEast. I feel like i need a vacation. Just a weekend to myself with a crying baby, stressed out aunt, nervous mother, and neurotic thoughts coming from my own head. I told my mom about my concerns the other day (that i will work in a bookstore my whole life and never get a career in publishing or writing) and she literally got angry on the phone.

"What are you talking about. You were worrying about getting a job and now you have one. And now you are worrying about something else."

I am relentless in the pursuit of something I have no concept of. I guess because I often feel unstable and on the fringe of falling apart, I seek out what I feel will create some stability in my life. If right now that stability is finding something that is creative and productive (publishing), I feel threatened by anything that might knock me off course. If that makes any sense at all.

But sometimes i forget to breathe. I forget that i am only 22, a recent college grad, and that i have a lot of experiences to go through before i reach a stability i am okay with. I don't enjoy being in the moment sometimes, it is a chaotic listless place that frightens the hell out of me. Being in the moment arises an anxiety in me that I can not articulate, so i always make sure to stay on some course (even if i am stressing myself out to do it) rather than feel like i don't have control over something.

At the end of the conversation my mom suggested i take a break for a while. Stop planning things out, and just have a relaxing day of nothingness. I wish i could rent a cabin somewhere and just be by myself for a while. I could a rent a car, take my laptop and camera and head up into the mountains and write. Or at least take in the scenery.

When we took my cousin to college a couple of weeks ago we crossed a river called the Tappan Zee. The bridge stretches over the Hudson River and takes you to upstate New York. It was like a different world crossing that bridge from the busy honking streets of Westchester County to the farmlike oasis of small town USA. I imagine there is probably some cabins up that way that i can look into. Just to rest my head and rejuvenate. And maybe write. I haven't done much of that these days.

List-O-Rama

I cannot begin to explain how much i love making lists.

I make lists for everything, because it lessens the anxiety I have at that particular time.

Lists remind me of my aspirations, goals, and sometimes what i am suppose to do on a given day. I don't make them often, but I do feel a sense of safety when I have mapped out what i want to accomplish. There is something about seeing a step by step guide that wipes anxiety away and makes me feel productive. I follow a list of ingredients for baking and cooking, I make a list on really busy days so I can squeeze everything in, but more importantly I make a list of what I want to accomplish for myself (in life) so I don't forget it.

In this place you can get so wrapped up in the busy flow of excessive activity and livelihood that you can forget why you came here in the first place. It's pretty easy to do this too. There is so much to see, so much to do, so much you feel you have to be apart of that you can lose what you wanted to create for yourself. And for a person who loves list...this is frightening thing.

I started my job yesterday and it was pretty good. Everyone seems nice (for now) the hours are manageable (for now) and for the most part it seems like something I can do (until i find my dream job in publishing). I always get weirded out when i see people clearly older than me working at a bookstore, or music store. I don't mean those people who are working their part time to earn more money, or those (like me) who need something for right now. But I mean those people who literally have made this particular bookstore a career. It's not that I have any bias against them (times are rough and any job is better than no job) but I wonder if they ever saw themselves working at a bookstore when they hit 40. I wonder if somewhere along the way their dreamed got deterred and this is where they have ended up.

You may have figured out that I am often afraid of settling. My greatest fear is that I won't accomplish what i have set out to do with my life, and because of this I will get so comfortable in something steady that i will be unfulfilled. Toby use to say that because i am aware of this fear and acknowledge it (along with verbalizing it) that that is probably not going to happen to me. But it is still an unnerving possibility that lingers somewhere within.

One of the managers (the one who hired me) is an attractive, seemingly intelligent book girl. She is in her 30's, recently married and has just moved here from California. She has worked at this book store for 14 years!!!! 14 YEARS!!! She said she started out as a cashier and "just sort of stayed with the company". For 14 years!!! I couldn't wrap my mind around it. She then introduced us to some guy name Keith (who I was instantly creeped out by. He just has this "I like em' young" look to him). He had the same exact story as the other manager. They started out working the floor and then just stayed with the company.

It's like my worst nightmare. EVER! As she was telling me and the other girl about the book store policies and benefits (should we stay long enough to receive) I had visions of me sitting in her spot 5 years later with a goofy smile on my face and my dreams totally abandoned for a safe job and employee benefits (though employees are allowed to check out any hard copy book in the store as long as we bring it back in two weeks. I of course had to use this benefit yesterday). I imagined coming in everyday at 27, with my homemade lunch, new bag of faces, and having water coolers moments about Heroes (should it still be on in 5 years).

Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic that I have a job and subsequently a paycheck every week but I don't want to forget what I came here for. I didn't come to make a career out of selling books at a bookstore. I could do that anywhere. I came here to make a dream a possibility and I hope it won't be this hard forever.

I guess the fear originates from the waning possibility that I will get this internship. It's been a whole week since I emailed her, and after checking my email relentlessly (every hour) I think she passed on having me as her intern. If she hasn't contacted me by Monday I am toying with the idea of emailing her back and saying "is the internship still available? If not, thank you for considering me". I have set my work schedule around having a morning internship, and if I don't have this one (and i really don't feel like waiting anymore to hear if I'm even consider) than I need to look for another internship.

The truth is I can't get a job in publishing without some experience in publishing. The promises of an entry level job is bullshit. Sure they are looking for college graduates, they just happen to leave out the whole "If you have an internship we will definitely consider you for the position" It makes sense though, at least with an employee with some experience you don't have to hold their hand for a long time. I know that being around people in a field that I want to get into will only inspire me to work harder and start accomplishing the things I set out to do.

But as I continue to check my email, and I continue my job at the bookstore ,I know I will always be thinking about the reality of my life being very different from the aspirations of it. And I know, I've just started my whole "real world" experience. I know I have a tendency to want immediate results rather than wait for things to work out.

But I just don't want to get so comfortable that I settle. Settling is just not an option.

For the Book Lover in All of Us.

I got a job! I got a job! I got a job!

Thank God. I have been hitting the streets looking for a part time job ever since i moved here. And after my interview with The Editor I definitely need a part time job if and when I get the internship (to make sure i am making money while apprenticing with a publisher).

Though I have yet to hear anything from The Editor , I did get a call last Friday from a bookstore looking to hire me because of my superb shelving skills (which I listed on the application). Who would have thought being able to shelve would catch the eye of the manager?

An interview later...and I'm a bookstore girl. YEAH.

It's a part time gig, with reasonable pay....but I'll get out of the house, make some money on the side, have my mornings free to intern, and did I mention that I would no longer have to babysit a three old. I could cry with happiness.

I called my mom first, because besides me she was most nervous about my job hunt. I could hear her do the happy happy joy joy dance all the way from Westchester County. I start tomorrow at 4, but I have to buy some shoes before then because all I wear are Converse and Pumas (a big no no in the job department).

This is incredibly good news, and I hope to have some more before the week is out. Having that internship will solidify the whole reason I moved here. Fingers crossed people.

* I haven't seen that Happy Happy Joy Joy video in a long time. Kinda of creepy for a kids tv show. Nonetheless, it's a fitting song for the day.