The Final Girl.

Today is Halloween, and I do not have a costume. Apparently capes are not 'in' anymore and I refuse to pay $40.00 for a red sweater with a hoodie (even though my aunt reminded me that I could return said sweater the next day). So instead I am going to go as a broke college graduate questioning her career, relationships and general outlook of the future.

I have not heard back from the 2nd Editor, and I am hoping that with the holiday (Halloween) and the election on Tuesday that he will notify this upcoming Wednesday about the internship. I have checked their website everyday, and no new name has appeared under the internship list. For a site that updates daily, I figure they would also update their staff contacts...and so far the same four interns remain on the list. This could be a good sign. At least until next Wednesday.

I wish people could see how much passion I have for writing. Sometimes during interviews I am so nervous I can't seem to get my point across. The questions that get me all caught up should be the easiest to answer: Tell me something about yourself and where do you see yourself in five years. I always stumble with these two questions mainly because I don't know the answer to any of them.

I just know that I am complicated person who loves writing but cannot seem to get much of it done without someone guiding me in a general direction. I want to get into publishing only because it will provide a stable income while I attempt to write. This does not mean that I don't have an interest in publishing but I couldn't give up writing for it. I am person ruled by her emotions and I cannot work at a place that I do not believe in. I am reliable and passionate and am willing to learn. Sometimes I need someone to remind me of our objective, not because I am forgetful but just because I want to make sure we are on the same plane. I see a lot of potential in my future, but I don't know were I will be in five years. I just don't want to be doing anything uncreative and boring.

I don't feel like that's an answer anyone wants to hear, so I bullshit my way through a stumbling mess of "i don't know...anything really". During my interview with the 2nd Editor I didn't mention any of my cool film knowledge. Especially since I have all this cool literary knowledge on film theory.

As I contemplated being Little Red Ridding Hood this Halloween I was reminded of a book i read called Misfit Sister (which compared the plight of women survivors in horror movies, who are referred to the Final Girl, to protagonist from fairy tales). Sue Short did a wicked awesome job in exploring why the Final Girl is such an important character in horror movies and furthermore why audiences are captivated by her story. Hell, I am captivated by the Final Girls story.

Sue, and other theorists, realize that the final girl has some connection to the killer in the movie. That their stories(and past) are aligned in some way which makes her triumph over the killer so compelling to audiences. Expanding on this knowledge, I sort of believe that not only is the Final Girl connected to her killer from their past but maybe the killer and the final girl exhibit complementary traits that makes her survival a metaphor for something bigger. I haven't grasp what it is, but I'm on to something.

The reason I bring it up is because the survival of the final girl means that after she has defeated the monster she will gone through her right of passage into adulthood. By conquering the monster she has, in a way, conquered the thing that has stunted her own development and maturity as a fully realized human being.

I hate using Wikipedia as a source but according to the page on The Final Girl and what I can remember from Short's book "The final girl is typically sexually unavailable or virginal, avoiding the vices of the victims (sex, narcotic usage, etc). She sometimes has a unisex name (e.g. Teddy, Billie, Georgie, Sidney). Occasionally the Final Girl will have a shared history with the killer. The final girl is the "investigating consciousness" of the film, moving the narrative forward and as such, she exhibits intelligence, curiosity, and vigilance".

Now I'm not trying to jump to conclusions...but dammit I may just be (or represent) The FINAL GIRL. Let me explain. I realize that sometimes I am my own worst enemy. There are days when I am optimistic and confidant and I feel like i can conquer the world. But then there are other days when I am stunting my own potential. I create some sort of monster that is preventing me from reaching safety. I am afraid of the monster solely because he threatens to take away the things that have meaning in my life but I empathize with the monster because I see myself in him. When the mask is pulled off and he is stripped of his weapons he represents the elements of myself that has birthed such a destructive creature.

And before I defeat him, before I realize that one of us has to be destroyed in order for the other to survive, I see myself in him. As he sees himself in me. And maybe in that instant, I've figured out that in weird way we've created each other for the sole purpose of having to overcome one another.

I had a dream a while ago that I was in a house of horrors. There were these three people who were stalking me through a house. I encountered each one, who all tried to defeat me in several different ways. I was physically assaulted in one, the force of the fight evident by the bruises that marred my body. I eventually kicked his ass and escaped only to run into another person. I was sexually assaulted by the next person. It was more of an attempt that an actual assault, but the threat of sexual violence is something no one overcomes quickly. He too was defeated only for me to run into the last of my attackers. He was neither physically or sexually violent towards me, but the mental degradation was the worst. It was like being able to see freedom and having this person not only block it from you, but you remind you how close and far you are from home.

At the end he was also defeated and on my back to civilization through the woods I encountered them all again, except this time they were giving me items to bring back home. In a weird way, because I had defeated them I was giving the items the used to harm me, to equip me for more obstacles to come in the future. I had become their equal because I defeated them.

I wonder if that has any connection to what the Final Girl must go through.

Maybe today I will The Final Girl. It would be an interesting and symbolic costume that no one would get unless I explained it to them. I am no close to conquering the beast who follows me but I am equipped with the knowledge that I can defeat him. That I can use the fear he has created within me against him. And survive once and for all with the tools to do so again, should he come back.

Happy Halloween.

The Waiting Day.

Is today my day?

I am suppose to hear from The Editor today about the internship. Or at least that's what I remember him saying last Thursday.

I couldn't even go to sleep yesterday for I was too busy second guessing the interview. I should have said more about my favorite movies, I should have talked about my passion and drive, I shouldn't have said 'wicked awesome" so much.

Regardless today will be somebodies day. Someone will get a call about this internship. And I am just hoping that somebody is me.

I have been waiting by the phone like a love-sick girl since this morning. I keep glancing at it, so I don't miss the flashing red lights of an incoming call. So far today I have received a call from Marie, my mom, my aunt, and a wrong number. I tried sleeping the angst off, but to no avail.

Instead I am just going to sit by the phone. Patiently waiting for a call to come in. I am hoping for good news, my spirits have been high lately but this would be a delightful addition to my okay week.

I am in the waiting place but maybe, if today is my day, I will be relieved from my post.

The Alice costume is a bust. After a long day of searching the only Alice costume I found was a skanky one. Being a self conscious person prevents me from ever stepping out of the house in a costume missing essential pieces. I am now looking for a red cape, so I can be a modern day Little Red Ridding Hood. Apparently there have been some sexual interpretations of the story, but whatever. I just want something to wear for Halloween that won't cost me a lot of money or get me arrested at night for solicitation.

Back to waiting. Oh, my stomach hurts.

P.S. I know i said no more scott speedman pics. But his face soothes me.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I think I am going to be Alice for Halloween.






It wasn't a hard decision. My aunt wanted Michelle to be Alice for her first real Halloween. The costume is relatively cheap, the outfit is cute, and with Michelle as Alice we could dress up as minor characters from the story. I was going to be the cat, and I think my aunt settled on being the Mad Hatter because all she would only have to wear a hat.





But in an unfortunate reminder of the times, Michelle was against everything Alice inspired and instead wanted to dress up as Hannah Montana. My heart broke several times over. Not only did she want to be Hanna Montana but she cried when we tried to persuade her to dress as Alice. She went from simple crying to wailing, and we eventually gave up and said "you can be anything you want to be...including Hanna Montana".





Yesterday i found out that anyone working on Halloween (me. until closing) could dress up in a costume. As long as it is appropriate. I have been obsessing over Alice again, finding or making parallels between her adventures down the rabbit hole and my own.





I asked everyone yesterday if they were working Halloween and what they were going to wear. Ryder (who reminds me of Jack Kerouac because he smokes, carries small books in his jacket , is a philosophy major and possibly a fan of radical thinkers and Buddhist teachings) is coming in as a Zombie survivor. Think Cillian Murphy in 28 days later. The weird janitor guy is coming in as Robin Hood and I expect he will be on the search for his fair maiden when he's not stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. The girl in the cafe is going to be one of those Annie dolls, and the flirt who works at the register is going to be a vampire. A vampire who shows some chest. He creeps me out.





Alice is not a unique costume but it's fitting for my current state. Now if i can only find the Alice outfit that is not trampy and lacking material around the blouse I may be the cutest Alice this side of the Hudson river. I'm just saying.





There is this guy at work who gives everyone the creepies (not the cash register guy). His name is Reuben, and despite being a nice guy no one really gets him. He's quiet, off in his own head, and socially awkward. Just like me. My attempts at sparking a conversation with him has failed several times. I don't really know what to say, and when I do come up with something he gives me a half-hearted smile and walks away.





When Marisol worked there she said he was the only person she didn't understand. "Everyone else is cool...but there is something odd about him". And in all honesty there is something off about him but i haven't been able to determine the level of offness. One day, as I was clocking in, I noticed that he was all dressed up for work. At the bookstore we don't have to dress up but we can't wear jeans and sneakers. But we don't have to get all decked out in clothes, either, and sometimes I get away with wearing my rock t's under sweaters. But on that day Reuben looked too dressed up. As if he was just asked out by the hottest girl in college despite being the geeky nerd.



So I clocked in (which we do on the book floor) and I noticed an attractive older lady waiting at customer service. She kept looking at Reuben with a tenderness that bordered on inappropriate, and I was about to ask her if she needed help finding a book. Before I let the words fall out of my mouth I put two and two together. Reuben looking uber confidant and macho and this older lady peering at him with a look my mom gives me when she doesn't think I'm looking.



He brought his mom to work. Like for reals. Not only did he bring her to his job but he showed her around like this was a dignified place of business. He spent the rest of the day with this weird smile on his face, which scared the crap out of me. It reminded me of Norma Bates. Ever since that incident, and feeling like he may be a momma's boy, i have been intrigued by Reuben. He doesn't seem too connect to anyone at work, and everyone is put off by him.


Yesterday, during my break, I bought Alice in Wonderland for research purposes. Reuben was working the register and asked if I had my pay stub so he could scan it for the discount. Though I had the stub, it was deep in the belly of my eco-friendly bag and I could not find it to save my life. He saw me rummaging through my bag and said that I could just give him my 9 digit employee number. After I recited my number, I found the stub wedged between my wallet and my writing notebook. I pulled the stub out and exclaimed "I found it! I do that all the time. Look for something and then find it at the very last moment".



He gave me his weird smile and then I took my book and told him that I would see him later, after my break. I was kind of embarrassed because I did the thing I always do when I'm excited about finding something. I squeal as if I have just found my "must have" present under the Christmas tree, except I do this for all things that are hidden and then found.



A couple of hours later, Reuben was heading home and he stopped by the cash register to purchase a book. I asked him for his stub and it was like an episode of "didn't I just do that earlier". As if performing an episode of my life, he rummaged in his book bag, looked around as if seriously searching for it, and then gave me his numbers. After I punched them in he pulled out his stub and said "I found it!! I do that all that time. After searching and searching for something, I find it at the last moment".





He was dead pan in his delivery. He was not mocking me or being an ass. He was serious and making an effort to start a conversation based on one that we previously had.



I kind of gave him a look like, " I said the same exact thing too you. Just 2 hours ago. How weird", but instead I smiled asked him if he wanted a bag and then handed him his book after he declined the cheap plastic bags. Of course, because i am naturally curious about people's book choices, I caught a glimpse of the title before handing it to him. The book was called "How to make people like you in 90 seconds": his overt loneliness slays me. I feel compelled to bond over our introversion but instead I watch from a distant. He's an interesting person to study or at least to write about.



Time to read. I don't really feel like doing much of anything until i hear about this internship (Wednesday!). Yesterday I saw a new book by Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs called And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their [Tanks]. I was compelled both by the title and by the authors. Apparently this was written before they were known as 'the beats' and it details the crime that sent both to jail for failing to notify police of a murder...which their friend committed.



As someone who rarely finishes a book, I am flying through this one. After some difficulty getting into Jack's stilted writing during the first chapter:



I went to the bar. It was crowded. I ate a liver sandwich. I paid four dollars for it and then went home.


I was about to agree with the editors at first who rejected the manuscript, but the interchanging chapters written by Williams and Kerouac become intriguing after the 3rd chapter and you can see their different approaches to storytelling which works well together in a chaotic 1950's blend. Their tones are different, their styles are distinct but their perspective is rich in dialogue and description.

So far my favorite line ever is Kerouac's description of Burroughs (who is penned Will Dennison in the narrative :

Dennison reminded me of a cowboy, somehow. But not the cowboy you see in the movies on a white horse with a pearl-gray Stetson and a heavily ornamented double holster. Will is the cowboy who wears a plain vest and half-Stetson, who is always sitting at a card table in the saloon and withdrawing silently with his money when the hero and the villain start shooting it out.

God, why can't I met interesting dudes like this. Minus the alcoholic tendencies.

Rainy Days.

Today it rained all day.

I didn't get home last night until 12:30 because working on Friday at a store that doesn't close until 11 is not cool. By the time I got home, I went to sleep only to be stirred awake some hours later by a hungry 3 year old.

Of course it was 8 in the morning when this request was made, but i was in no mood to feed anyone (though i did any way).

I was kind of happy to see a sky of grey clouds and that the wind was blowing everything around with signs of a storm coming. Some days, i like the rain. It gives me the opportunity to stay in, read a book, or like I have been doing lately, watch the complete seasons of 30 Rock.

I must say, since this BIG move I have felt so different. Sometimes I feel like I have stepped outside of myself and am watching this person that resembles me but who possess characteristics that aren't completely my own. Or at least ones I am not comfortable with.

There is a part of me that needs to be introspective and under the radar. Sometimes I like to blend into the crowd and be hidden, detached, and in my own little world. But on the social aspect of my life right now...I am doing okay. I am meeting and possibly even making friends. I am talking to people and saying things that I regret revealing moments later. People seem to like me and in a weird way I am uncomfortable with this.

That part of me that shys' away from social interactions, wants to go into hiding again. I feel like I am putting on a show for everyone, and though the audience likes the presentation I am giving (confidant, funny, smart, witty girl) I don't know if I am losing the part of myself that makes me feel safe and secure...in a weird antsy way. I guess I am not use to people taking an interest in what i have to say. I am not use to people wanting me to be around them. I am not use to being wanted and because of this there is a part of me that wants to flee. Far far away.

I guess that's why i am happy that today it rained all day out of the blue. That it came down hard, causing everyone else to run inside. I had a chance to breathe for once and think without the feeling, that often invades my thoughts, that I have turned my back on the girl that I am, in some attempt to make progress with my life.

I may have told this story once, but before I went to eight grade i was asked to join a summer camp held at the local high school. It was an 8 week intensive program for science and the arts tailored to students who did well on some tests throughout the year. I went under the pretense that I would have a fun time, meet some new people (because I was technically still the new girl) and have something to do during the summer.

On the first day of the program, I met this girl who was really popular. She instantly (within the hour) created her entourage of 'friends' and among them was dear old me. At first i was like 'cool. Look, i am liked by this really popular girl and she has accepted me into her clique. Look mom no hands'. But after a couple of hours with her, I was bored with being apart of her clique. Everyone laughed at her jokes, everyone followed her around, and everyone abandoned any resemblance of themselves to be accepted by this girl.

During lunch, I decided to skip sitting with her and the rest of her minions. She took notice of my departure and asked why I wasn't sitting with them. I do not remember the exact words I used but it went something like " i just don't feel like following you around anymore". Needless to say I was booted from the clique almost instantly and that was the last day i showed up for the camp.

I was not willing to sacrifice my own comfort for her acceptance. And now, at 22, there is a part of me that doesn't want to sacrifice my safe anxiety filled house for what my mom calls my "chance to find my place within the crowd"

I don't know how to balance my natural introspective tendencies with...everything else. How to be completely in tune with who I know I am and who i want people to accept and see.

I don't know.

Tomorrow I work until closing. But then I have 2 days off to do whatever I want. I am done second guessing my deduction in hours, so far so good. I swear this is that last of my Scott Speedman GQ spread obsession.

Adventures in the City

I went on a interview today in the city!! I know. I have a lot of explaining to do.

My main complaint with work (which are many) is that working 5 days a week, 8 hours a day prevents me from doing a serious job and/or internship search. At first I thought this was some bullshit excuse to validate not wanting to work at the bookstore but after a successful week of applying to jobs and internship, I think I may have been right.

My supervisor (the one i hate) accidentally schedule me for four days off this week instead of the three i requested. At first I was like, "crap i am going to get a sucky paycheck", but then i figured that during my four days off I could get some work done. And by work I mean I could send a crapload of applications for various jobs and internships that could enhance my resume.

To make a long story short, I sent an application to a newspaper that runs weekly throughout NYC and the tri-state area. It's an internship but i would get some editorial and writing experience all at the same place. Plus the newspaper is tailored for people in the arts (mainly actors and models).

I actually found the ad through craiglist. Now I am not one of those people who is comfortable answering ads through craiglist but sometimes there are listings that i cannot pass by. I sent over my cover letter on Tuesday, and later that evening I got a call from the "new" editor. He left a message and said to give him a call so we could set up a meeting.

By the time i got that message it was 8pm, and I knew that i would have to call in the morning to schedule something. At 10 the next morning I spoke with the 'new' Editor and planned an interview for today at 2pm. This time i tried to be more prepared than i have been on my last two interviews with very important people. I prepared a writing sample, printed out my resume, and created a list of my favorite movies with the directors names and actors who appeared in them. I also checked out the newspapers website and tried to get a sense of what they are trying to established in the entertainment business.

This morning I was nervous but prepared. I bought a sweater from H & M that i thought would read "fun yet professional". Thanks to GQ I have become obsessed with two things a) Scott Speedman and b) everything that encompasses Maine, including a new found appreciation for plaid. No lie. I have one plaid shirt that i thought would look perfect under my new sweater. Yesterday I went to the mall with my aunt and cousin to find a perfect sweater I could wear over the plaid shirt. At three Michelle has already decided that she does not like shopping. If she gets anywhere near a clothes store she retreats in frustration.

So upon walking into H&M she began protesting our being there. This did not make shopping easy and though I saw a sweater that would go perfect with the plaid, I did not have the chance to try it on. I fluctuate between a size S and XS and due to my eating habits lately I am leaning towards the latter. I grabbed the XS, paid the 20 bucks and then we headed home.

Of course when i got home, the XS made me feel like a stuffed burrito. It was not pretty. I didn't think i would make a good impression looking like I had stuffed myself into a shirt a size to small. So I just wore my argyle sweater, and slacks. Simple yet professional.

At 12 I headed into the city, with only an address and my warm boots. I asked severally people beforehand for directions and each gave me a different one. This is the first time i have been in the city by myself and I was more nervous then i would like to admit. When i got off the train there were so many people and so much going on that I got sucked into a crowd going in the direction far from the office. After a small detour to the library I made a quick turn in the opposite direction and eventually found my way to the building via a very nice girl working at Anne Taylor.

When i got to the newspaper building, I had a horrible thought that maybe this was some huge scam. Maybe I was walking into a sex dungeon where a creepy guy awaited me with plans to keep me as his captive for twelve years. Damn you Dateline. I mean it didn't hit me until i got to the building that this could be some weird craiglist thing. Maybe the person i talked to was not affiliated with the newspaper at all, maybe he was just some sicko looking for young editorial types to use in his SEX DUNGEON. Once again...Damn you Dateline.

It wasn't that the building was sketchy but I guess I imagined a big sign, and a crap load of journalist smoking outside talking about politics and movies. Instead it was a rather simple building with some valet guy giving me the stank eye because I was staring aimlessly for at least a minute. When I did enter the building I made my way to the third floor and found the room where i was suppose to have my interview. Once again the presence of the door freaked me out. I was expecting something...bigger. I was an hour early so I hung out near the door hoping to hear something from inside. I figured if I heard something too creepy I could slink away unharmed.

At 1:45 I rang the doorbell and was greeted by some skinny dude with a bald head. For an instant i thought of fleeing but then I looked down and saw he was wearing Converse shoes, and what Sex Dungeon capture would rock converse. The 'new' editor was hella nice. At first he seemed kind of stuffy, but once we started talking about movies he relaxed a little. I guess I forgot that posting an ad on craiglist is a little more frightening than answering one. You are inviting who knows what to your place of business. Though i was not required to bring a resume or a writing sample, he was impressed that i brought both. He asked me some questions, told me about the magazine, gave a description of intern responsibilities and then we talked about Tim Burton.

I think i was personable and knowledgeable, and he kept giving me a look that said "we may have something here". He said he would call me on Wednesday to tell me if the position is mine. I felt like it went well, and having an internship in the city two days out of the week would be sweet. Plus a perk that i was not counting on....If i prove to be a good writer than i can write reviews for independent films that are being screened in the city. Which means I would get free tickets to movies.

I am excited. I feel like this could be a real possibility. I think i could be making some kind of progress. Progress feels good.

I've Been Careless with a Delicate Man.

I am on a serious 'new' job hunt. I am still toying with the idea of grad school, but the other option is simply to find something in my career that isn't soul crushing and boring. I am completely okay with leaving the state of new york for this job. Everyone from grandma's to 5 year old are trying to break into the business of writing, acting, and other creative ventures. It's sort of a drag. I would love to move to a new place, build something of a career in 2 years and then move back here with a secure job in editorial work. Or I could go to grad school. I am not doing so well in the decision making department.

I am looking at some literary magazines all over the US and for reasons unknown (OK, it may have had something to do with a spread in GQ featuring an ever so handsome Scott Speedman) been drawn to Maine. Yes, this state has too been added to my increasing list of places to live and work or maybe even go to school. The area is beautiful (and bound to inspire me), there are some pretty good magazines in the fair state, and I have a slight crush on people who wear (and can rock) flannel t-shirts. I am not jumping ship today, packing my bags, and moving to Maine. I still have a lot of other opportunities to consider along with this one.

I want to write. I am completely inept without it. And the real challenge seems to be balancing this need with everything else. Today I talked to Marie for two hours, and she was telling me about her loneliness. She hates living alone, and does not find cooking for one a fun thing. She has a real people's job, she has a real people's car, and she has a real people's apartment yet she is lonely. I try to cheer her up as much as I can, but the truth is...for someone who doesn't have any of those things I don't really know how she feels. I want a career, and a job, and a form of transportation that does not involve paying a cab driver.

With anxiety, I have learned to be okay with the silence. Sure I want to welcome someone in to it, and I have been doing a hell of a job making friends...but I'm okay by myself. I would welcome an apartment where I get to make (and bake) anything I wanted...anytime. This week I have four, count them, FOUR days off and much of that will be spent applying to all these places for jobs. I feel productive. Real productive.

I no longer have a crush on the older hot elementary school teacher at my job. It was a short term thing that went no where fast. Let me explain.

He pretty much ignores me at work. Like ignores ignores. It's the weirdest thing ever. At work, I am sort of like an actor. The customer service is my stage and within the weird circle desk I am Anne Hathaway. I take a huge breath before I start my shift and for the whole day I am a personable, talkative employee who is nice to customers and who fakes excitement at all the things the managers wish to teach me.

Inside I am a complete mess. I feel nervous and antsy and I wish I was in a corner somewhere reading a book about anxiety. But I can't break down, so i just trudge along and do the best i can. Which seems to be working, because almost everyone likes me ( i inadvertently pissed off the cafe manager because i asked him to get something off a shelf for me. The thing was too high for me to reach, and when i ran into him I asked him if he could get it for me. "you're a tall person, so i figured I'd come ask you instead of climbing the shelves in the back". The next day he gave me the stank eye in the cafe, got an attitude after asking for my employee numbers (for the discount) and then shoved the six cents in my hand and growled "I didn't forget that you called me a "tall person". I mean this was not in a funny way, he seemed actually mad a me. And he made my hand hurt. Weirdo).

But besides him, and a few people in music...everyone likes me. Except Mike. Not only does he ignore me, but it's so evident that he ignores me that my crush has quickly turned to dislike. He's not even friendly towards me. It's like I am not there. Like he can't use the computer that i am on because an invisible force field has suddenly occupied the space. It's weird, but more annoying.

I have however attracted the interest of a maintenance guy who i made the mistake of having a long conversation with a few weeks ago. He was hired to keep things clean around the store, but instead is bent on making his way up from cleaning bathrooms and taking out the garbage. His goal, at this time, is to get hired as a bookseller and be able to do the job that i do. Instead of cleaning, he sometimes hangs out at customer service and helps customers. Though this is no problem for me or anyone else, the managers hate it and have told him repeatedly to do the job they hired him for.

So a few weeks ago, he noticed that i was sad. He asked me what was wrong and I admitted that I was kind of homesick. He spent the rest of the day trying to cheer me up, which was sweet in that "who the hell are you anyway" kind of gesture. Even though, i had no idea why someone I have only said hi too occasionally would try so hard to make me happy, I thought it was nice of him.

The next time i came to work, I noticed that he was all of a sudden in a funk. He had the same pouty face that I had, and I felt the need to ask him what was wrong. How do i get myself in these situations. He went on to tell me that him and his 'girlfriend' are having problems and that she recently broke off their engagement. It was only later that I found out this 'girlfriend' was one he met through a weird on line gaming community, and they may have never met in real life. At the time however, all i knew was that him and his girlfriend were going through a rough patch and he needed someone to talk to.

Though i am not interested in getting into anyone else's business. I heard him out the rest of the night. He described how romantic he was with her over the phone and that every night he would tell her that she was the most important person to him. He could not understand why she no longer had an interest in having a relationship with him, and that he was a good guy.

I was sort of creeped out by this conversation, mainly because I don't really know him. And even more, he would not stop talking about how he is such a good boyfriend. He followed me around the whole store, asking me questions about relationships, what he should do, and "wouldn't I appreciate things like that". No actually i wouldn't. I don't want to hear some corny crap like that every night before bed. I guess I just need something more than words. WAY MORE THAN WORDS.

By the end of the shift, he asked me to join the website him and his online girlfriend met on. I said I would do so after I completed a few stories. On his way out he said "Alright Angel, I'll talk to you later". Did i mention he asked me for my phone number, and I actually gave it to him because I was afraid. He's a nice guy, but that's where it stops. He is tall, and balding and has talked about his collection of guns. The manager asked him if he knew the unabomber (in a joking way) but behind every joke is a small glimmer of "no...but do you really know or are affiliated with him".

During my long conversation with Marie we talked about guys, because what 22 year old girl doesn't. I think we are at a weird place where we are evaluating what we want in all areas of our lives, including the people we wish to share it with. I have a list of things that i don't want and a slim grasp on what I do want. But we both agreed that dating a dude whose only aspiration is to become a bookseller...not the brightest move.

I have been avoiding him the last few days only because I think my niceness may have been perceived as a general interest. I have contemplated making up a fake boyfriend, just so he knows that I am nice to everyone. And that my ability to listen has nothing to do with being madly deeply in love with him.

I wonder, if i move Maine will i meet any really hot lumberjacks. You know a smart, handy, goal orientated lumberjack who kind of looks like Scott Speedman and can carry a conversation. I don't even know if Maine has lumberjacks, but it is something to consider in my expanding list. I don't want him to particularly to cut down trees as a profession, but to wear flannel and chop wood to put in the fireplace I will never use.

Maine? Maybe.

'Broke' in the City.

There is nothing fun about New York, when you don't have the money to explore and have fun.



When we use to visit the city during spring break/summer vacation/ or around my birthday, it was an exhilarating place with endless amount of possibilities. My mom and I use to say if we hadn't moved from this place we would go to the city everyday and hit up art shows, galleries and trendy shops.



However visiting new york (with money already saved to spend) and living in New York are two different things. I am learning this quickly.



Even though i get paid every week, I feel like i am blowing through my small paycheck very quickly. On nothing stupid or frivolous of course. Living with my aunt is a full time job in and of itself. As the fun aunt, living with her is like rooming with someone my age except without all the fun. At 22 being bad with money, forgetting to buy food and toilet paper, or even getting the cable turned off because you forgot to pay the bill can be forgivable. At her age however, it is a stressful reminder of my situation.



I spend most of my paycheck stocking up on food, because if I didn't do that there would literally be nothing in the house. She is use to eating out everyday, and because I am pretty frugal I refuse to spend money eating at every corner shop in the city. It can add up people. When I am not spending money on food, I entertain myself with books/magazines/(and recently because of the no TV thing) DVD's. For 40 bucks i got the first season of 30 Rock, which is proving to be pretty funny.



I am planning a trip home soon but not in that 'I've made a decision to move back' way. I need some TLC from my mom, which is going to cost me a a hefty 400 bucks. It's worth it though I am now counting every cent as if it may be my last. Hopefully my week long vacation will be approved my my manager. I have looked at other new employees time off request and mine seems reasonable enough to grant.

While I am home, I will rent a car (because i do have a license to drive now) and visit Debbie Downer and Mike. I can also run into some old professors too.



As my mom said on the phone the other day "this may have been the wrong time to ask them to reduce your hours". And she has a point. But I still stand by my decision, though my wallet will suffer more than it already is.



Today I picked up a bunch of books at the library. I am updating my resume, and trying to understand this whole cover letter business. I am desperate to get my career started, and prove that my 4 years of college was worth something. Plus I don't really think I am doing them right because I have heard nothing from the people I have sent my C.V/Resume to. Not a good sign.

I want to be a professional. When they walk into the bookstore i feel a tinge of jealousy towards them. You can tell they are professionals because of their nice clothes and bags. And though i don't really wish to possess banana republic clothes or coach bags, having a nice office that i never use could be fun. And the fact that I can't even land an entry level position irks me. Irks me to the bone. I hate been broke, especially here when everyone flaunts their money.

Decision Making.

Sorry for the delay. They are working me very hard at the bookstore and i recently had to tell management to decrease my hours because "this is not a permanent position". Oh yeah. I took it to the man.

As I figured, I have been putting in 40 hour weeks for a very long time. With only two days off, I managed to only squeeze in sleeping and eating. This is not what i planned and though a lot of things have turned out differently from my imagination, working a full time shift at a bookstore really was not in my book.

Of course with the new time off (starting next week), I cannot spend it waiting for updates on PerezHilton.com or even watching shows on various sites. I am quitting my job in December. I know it is a rash and perhaps irrational move but it seems right. Today as I was helping one of my managers put up a display she asked me how many hours I worked during the week.

"40" I began quickly adding "that I decided that 32 was better for my schedule". She shook her head, smiled and said "that's wonderful that you work 32 hours". Because i am known to exaggerate minuet details I imagined that that nod and smile really meant " that's wonderful that you can work 32 hours/week so that I can train you to be a full time employee at our dear bookstore". Followed of course by a maniacal laugh. I shudder even thinking about it, let alone writing it down.

December seems like a good enough time to quit because of the holiday rush. They have warned me about the soul crushing, chaotic mess that holiday shoppers bring and if I am on edge with the regular customers, I can only imagine some horrible breakdown to come December. This deadline only means that i have to look for a new job, figure out if i even want to stay in the city, and start looking for a new place to live.

My best friend at work Marisol, who I could see becoming a life long friend, recently got a new job. Though she has only been working at the bookstore for two months she snagged a pretty hot job as a graphic designer in the city. Today was our last day working together, and we hugged in the aisle in front of customers and employees alike wishing each other goodbye. Earlier in the day we talked about the bookstore and how it was just the 'waiting place' for our real lives to begin.

"I don't want to see you here in December" she said, parting words that I needed to hear. Without Marisol, it is just me and a bunch of people who have been there for a year or more. Supposedly the cast of characters are changing these days. Some are moving to far away places, some are heading back to school, but most...most are just still there, sour faces and all.

A lot of offers are being thrown my way as this new December time frame looms before me.

My mom wants me to come back home. She reminds me (daily) that I can get a lot of writing done at home, that i will have the comforts of my bed and tv (sans my lovely cats) and that i won't have to deal with the stress of this place. She even threw out the "i'll make Parmesan chicken". My favorite food ever.

Marie, who is lonely in her town has offered to house me at her apartment. We can be roomies and I can look at schools in the neighborhood. We would each have the comfort of a friend around, and in the process be brave enough to meet new people. I could stay with her rent free until i got a job, and my own place...and I've only been to North Carolina once but it sure was pretty.

Though tempting those propositions are so far from what i want to do it's scary. I don't really want to return home where the absence of my cats will be an excruciating thing. I will run into old faces from high (and possibly college) who will all ask "what are you doing now". I will be too embarrassed to say that i have come home because i did not make it in new york, and instead will make up some lie about visiting my mom for a while.

I do not want to live with Marie, only because we would annoy each other. We are too very hard headed people whose friendship has survived on the basis that we have our own space. Living together seems cool because we are both in weird places right now, her socially (which not having as much problems in. Go figure) and me career wise (which she is having no problems with).

At the end of the day happiness right now involves creating a life for myself. Distinct my my family and distinct from Marie's. My first step is to quit the bookstore but i have to make sure I have something lined up. I can't just quit and do the whole "no one will hire me" thing. If i could find a job before then that would be great. I don't only want to find a job but one in my field so I feel like I am getting closer to something. I am not certain if I can find that here, though new york is the capital of...well everything. It seems like everyone here is trying to break into some industry and luck is a key component that i seem to be lacking.

Perhaps i am just being impatient, but working at the bookstore isn't cutting it. So i have to take charge and make things better, though i am not sure how to go about doing that. By December I am out of there. December.

Right now I am on the search for a job (again). I have to get some books on how to right cover letters, because i feel like i am not grabbing any ones attention in human resources. I do not care if my job is in new york or somewhere far far away, as long as i feel that the experience gained there will help me get somewhere.

I have been thumbing around with out of the way locations: Maine, Oregon, Vermont, and I have decided that if book publishing won't take me (yet) than maybe i can start off small in literary magazines.

Right now i have a whole bunch of plans but no idea what to do with them. I am not happy here, but i feel like leaving and heading home or moving in with Marie will not help me. I need to find my place, I need to search for it, and then grasp it. I cannot bail out on a dream just because it is on a hard and arduous road to it. I can also not settle for anyone else's idea of what I should do with my life.

I have this fear that i am a "seeking person". That I am never fully settled in one place, and am constantly on the move for something else. This worries me only because at my age decisions are costly. Figuratively and Literally. I wonder if i will ever be happy with the job that i snag, or the school that i attend, or the life i am leading. I worry that even if happiness and security smacked me in the face I will be too busy worrying about what else is out there. For now, being a seeking person seems okay. I am young and curious, and testing the waters is what i am suppose to do.

I am learning everyday what makes me unhappy because that is what has been surrounding me lately. But i can't seem to make what 'may' make me happy into a reality.

I have a lot of decisions to make and whatever one i decided could bring it's own share of pro's and con's which I am not certain i can endure. But i have to take a risk right. I have to steer my life in some direction and deal with the problems along the way. But anything is better than right now.

I've been channeling Sylvia Plath lately and especially her passage about the fig tree:

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

God, why am i so indecisive about my own life.

In other totally related news, i must remind myself to write about some guy a work who has a crush on me. In a classic Beckett move, I manage to attract a weird (but harmless) maintenance guy instead of the man of my dreams (a older elementary school teacher who works at the book store part time to support himself). Apparently i am very charming to guys i don't want to date but completely rude to guys that i do want to date.

More details after I sleep this day and indecision's away.

Not Now But Soon.

Today Michelle and I woke up pretty early to get ready for Dance Class. For a 3 year old she is already showing the signs of being against the morning. Her sweet face is replaced with a scowl and her voice is husky. When she came into my room, her shirt was pulled down across her shoulder and for a moment I thought she was impersonating Marlon Brando from A Streetcar Named Desired.

She began her list of demands on what she wanted to do and what she didn't want to do. She wanted Mermaid fruit snacks, she did not want to go to dance class. I showed her the pictures I had taken at dance class which reminded her of how much fun she had. I squeezed her (incorrectly) into her dance outfit, agreed that she could take her Arthur inspired party plates to class, and reminded her about the importance of being on time.

We left pretty early because she wanted to see some of the houses in the neighborhood which have decorated their houses for Halloween. She is not a girl who likes scary things and she tentatively walked past the house that had a Halloween display. On the way we picked up leaves and blew them into the air. She struggled with the blowing part so instead we threw them and watched them glide back to the ground.

When we got to the church (where the dance class was being held) but we were 40 minutes early. In order to amuse her and pass the time. We played Red Light-Green light on the grass. This was soon followed by Simon Says, more leaf throwing, and an Arthur game. It got closer to 10 o'clock and I say no other kids with adult in tow heading into the building. After a long wait, I decided it was best that we head back home before we did anymore destruction to the grass.

When we got back, I made Apple Waffles and put in a dvd. She seems to like both equally and is in her room clutching her favorite blanket and talking to the screen.

I manage to do all of this even though I woke up early this morning and read the email from the Editor on the status of the internship. After two months, the position has been filled by someone other than me. I can't say that it was much of a shock but there was still a tinge of "why wasn't it me". I just hate that it took three weeks for me to even know the status, though a decision was probably made a long time ago.

I am quickly learning that i cannot measure my self worth by my set-backs or need I even call them failures. I am a good writer, and when I do manage to break into publishing my strengths will be made apparent there. I wish everyone else could see my potential or at least would give me the chance to prove myself. I am not particularly sad but am rather more determined to see something come out of this nothingness.

I keep repeating to myself that I am young, and that I am lucky enough to have no responsibilities keeping me in one place. I am committed to a great change, but i have no idea what i want that change to be. My mom has offered several times for me to move back home with her. She is eager for my return, though I question what i would do at home in Small Town USA. Even Marie is tempting me, she asked why I didn't just come stay with her. There is a school near buy that happens to be good, and we could be roomies. I think she is forgetting that we would annoy each other to no end, and some friends are better off not living together.

Whatever decision I make has to be my own. I have already decided that if things don't particularly look up (finding another internship or a better job) then I'll pack it up for a while and take a month to myself (no job, no worries, and just writing). I can feel like a writer again, which could do wonders for the psyche.

The real world seems to be smacking me in the face and i wouldn't mind taking a break from it for a while. A writer's retreat sounds nice but I question how much writing I would do and how much money I would have to spend to rent a cabin or something. I have to finish this story, and start applying to schools. Along with that I now have to see if any internship is available, but because it's October nothing may be available.

I know things will get better. It's suppose to be incredibly difficult first right?

They Stole My Money Honey.

Me and Marie have been talking nonstop since I moved here. Coincidentally we are both suffering the reality of life outside of school. While she is struggling to develop friendships with people in her new town, I am well...we know how I am doing.

She works at some place where she manages other people. It's like a science factory that deal with processing pork. ??? She doesn't seem to hate it, but she has said that meeting new people has been harder than she thought. Her only friend is a guy named Jake, who she feels is too hot for her. She does not understand why he has taken an interest in her, and so she has put up guards in regards to befriending him.

We had a lot of catching up to do because I didn't really answer any phone calls in the summer. She got to talking about her niece and nephew and wanted to know about mine. Besides this blog, I have not discussed the death with anyone outside of my immediate family (mom and Morgan). Sometimes I still get sad and cry because I no longer have possibilities with Danny. Sometimes it is difficult babysitting Michelle (my aunt's 3 year old). I see how well I am with her, encouraging her to try new things, teaching her about music and drawing, and by far my favorite part: helping her decorate the house with art work she has made at school. There is a tinge of sadness however, because I know these are things I would have done with him. I know that i would have been a great aunt and him a great kid.

So I told Marie yesterday about Danny's death and of course we encountered the awkwardness that i dreaded. She kept saying she wouldn't know how she would deal if her niece or nephew died and that she couldn't imagine the grief my brother but especially my mom is feeling.

After I got off the phone with her, I couldn't help thinking about her observation. This has no doubt been a stressful time for me, and I have unloaded some anxiety filled rants to my mother in the process. In all the time that i have done that, I completely forgot about my mom and brothers own sadness. Removed from that house, I am not faced with all the reminders of Danny's death but furthermore my own families struggles to cope with it.

Feeling selfish and inconsiderate, I planned on spending some of my hard earned money on my family today. At the bookstore I get paid every week. This is a good thing, but the amount of hours i work is instantly reflected in my bank account. The pay is pretty good, and being a frugal person means that i am quickly accumulating (and saving) money in my account. Enough so that I could splurge on items for my mom and brother.

I headed out early in the morning to the bookstore, picked up my check, and then headed to my friends at Bank of America. This summer, they implemented a new way to deposit checks. Instead of getting a slip (that you have to fill out) you can deposit directly into the atm. It photo-copies the check (after you have fed it to the machine) and there you have it...a quick deposit.

I have deposited my paychecks that way ever since i started making money, and have had no problem with the machine. Today however, after putting my check into the machine I received a receipt that said my check was only for $8.48, about 95% less than the actual amount. I quickly ran back into the bank and went to the info lady who kept telling me that I incorrectly entered the wrong numbers. I tried to explain to here that the machine did not request me to punch in any amount, it took my check, scanned it, printed a receipt with the scanned check on it (with the total amount) and yet it only deposited $8.48.

Apparently in this town the customer is not always right. She still continued to insist that it was my error and not the atm's. She then told me to call the 1-800 number because I would have to talk to a representative. Near tears, I moved to the side and called the 1-800 number, seems like I will have to wait until the check clears before I can get this crap all fixed. I still did not take that as the final answer, so I went to a teller showed her the whole mix up thing and she literally was like "it's never done that before". She then directed me to call the 1-800 number again and see what they could do about.

When I say this has been a shittastic week, I am not exaggerating. So now, I only have $8.48 dollars added to my account, which cannot buy my mom the awesome soup bowl set i saw at crate and barrel. Hopefully it will be corrected by Saturday, if not i have to wait until Tuesday because of Columbus Day. Damn you Columbus Day.

I am taking Michelle to ballet class tomorrow. There is something about watching a bunch of 3 year old's attempt to dance that makes me laugh so hard. It may be the highlight in this week from hell.

A Case of the Monday's

So I didn't quit. That would be plan crazy. I remember the anxiety of just looking for a job and I couldn't imagine doing that again. I did however go to my favorite manager today and request some hours to be relieved from my shifts. Last time I checked part time was under 40 hours, and I have been clocking in some major hours these past weeks. I know it is a cut from my check, but in all honesty I don't have to pay any loans until February, and i am just supporting myself. I can survive off of a part time paycheck.



Because he is wicked awesome he said he would leave a note with my least favorite manager about my hours decrease. Paul (the new manager) and I started working at the Bookstore around the same time, and for some reason he likes working with me. "We make a good team" he concluded after a few days working together, and ever since we have grown an good boss-employee relationship.



He is the only manager I like at the store. The lady who hired may have received a stellar reference from Debbie Downer during the interview process, and sometimes I feel like she is disappointed with the actuality of me. Then there are two other managers who share the same name. Martha "A" is tough and short, I think she likes me but she is never there too long for me to get a sense of that. Martha "B" is a----well it begins with the letter B. She doesn't really do anything, except stand around. Martha "B" is the one who has been making my schedule and for this reason alone I do not like her. Then there is April. Poor April, everyone calls her a Nazi behind her back. She is kind of like a robot and has been none to yell at people. So far she actually seems to tolerate me, which is better than despising me.



With the extra day to myself, I don't feel so dreadful and tired. Maybe I can even get some serious writing time down. I have not even been to the city since the luncheon with The Editor, and I feel like some time in an artsy environment will fuel my sense of purpose here.



On Monday i am going to email the editor. Monday seems like a good time to remind her about little ol' me waiting to hear about my internship. I am trying to prepare myself for a "sorry but it is no longer being offered" just so I won't be crushed should that be the result. I am considering other internships, but at this time in the year I am almost certain that not many are going to be available.



As I was roaming down the aisles today and i saw a book about getting into book publishing. In black bold letters were the words "GET AN INTERNSHIP". I didn't know it was so important. Sue me. Fingers crossed for good news. I could use some.

The Waiting Place

I had insomnia last night which is not a good thing for the psyche. I came 'home' around 11:30 (Marisol, a very nice graphic design graduate, gave me a ride) and could not get to sleep. There was no tossing or turning, simply a stilled thoughtful noise that kept me up all night.



I am fast proving to be the 'beckett of yester year' at work and not by my own volition. As the new girl there are two many eyes looking in my direction and all of them with wavering perceptions that tell only half the truth.



Some of my employees (the older crowd) perceive me as an energetic, outgoing 22 year old with charisma and talent. No one has of yet given me the stank eye when I mention that I am GOING to be a writer. They have that same false sense of security with my plans and aspiration.



The managers see me as dependable and (as I have feared) a keeper. They have given me different task from all the new people, including projects I don't feel a) interested in doing and b) trained enough to do them. The lady who hired me believes I am good at everything (she told me this) and because of this I am no longer working part time hours. I am clocking in 40 hours a week along with getting special training from the managers in areas I don't feel I should be trained in.



I am hoping that because of the holidays they are preparing me for all areas should they need me. But being slightly paranoid, I feel like they are prepping me for something more.



I am getting along with most of the co-workers my age. Marisol, who just started 2 weeks ago, is my favorite. She is cool, nice, and we instantly hit it off. In the car yesterday we discussed the hottness of Emile Hirsch along with our crush on adrian brody. Somewhere between Into the Wild and what it feels like to be a recent grad we discussed our aspirations. She wants a job in graphic design and recently had a 2nd interview with a popular website and a potential internship with Forbes Magazine.



I pushed jealousy aside and was generally happy for her. That same day I learned Kyle (another recent grad) was accepted into an actor's workshop in the city. He will no longer be an employee which I know he is thrilled about. All the people I like have the same sort of story, this Bookstore is just a Waiting Place until our real job comes along. I guess I am just a lot less patient then I thought.



In the meantime, I continue to wait for any word about the internship. It has been 3 weeks to the day since I sent my reader response, and I have heard nothing. I do not want to be annoying and pestering but I feel like knowing something (even if it is a no) is better than waiting around. Any feedback on whether I should send her a email or not would be helpful. This waiting makes me feel useless and antsy. I am doing my self critical over analyzing thing which kept me up last night.



On my extended break from the Internet I began writing a story in my new writing journal. It is a little rough right now (that's called a first draft for you) but i like it a lot. I have been considering grad school as a real possibility now. I am looking at international schools because i would love to study and sort of get some traveling under my belt.



The schools have ranged from large ( NewCastle University) to small (Kings College) but the programs offer a dual concentration in creative writing and publishing. Along with the wicked opportunity to study abroad, the programs offer internship to students. I have been mulling around with the cost of studying abroad, but the school itself is cheaper (after the conversion factor of course) than the school I was considering in New York.



Other than housing and travel expenses I can see this as a real possibility. I fear being home sick, but I know that being in school will make me feel closer to my dream. I am still considering schools stateside, but possibly outside of new york. Somewhere a little smaller and where I can breathe in the fresh air.

No one seems to understand my concerns a the present moment. I am pulling in a good 40 hours a week which is not what i wanted to do. My mom thinks I am paranoid, on this blog I feel ungrateful and whiny as I write my concerns, and by myself in the 'real world' i feel unhappy. Like seriously unhappy. I would quit my job in a heartbeat were it not for the feedback I would get from my family. I do not care about the money. I hate my job. I want to quit my job. I want to quit today.

Cursing Out UPS and Best Buy one day at a time.

I'm back!!!!

You will not believe the trouble I have gone through just to type those words. As you may know, my AC adapter for my computer short circuited a few weeks ago. There was a small tear that would eventually lead to sparks and fire.

I still do not know my way around (and riding the bus scares me) so i came up with the brilliant solution of ordering the part on the phone with best buy. This seemed like a great idea. I talked with a really nice lady who said she found the part for my computer and that it would arrive at my new address in less than a week.

I waited patiently for my AC to come, reading books, writing a new story and teaching a three year old the importance of Rock and Roll. When Tuesday of last week came, I camped out on the stairs for the UPS man to arrive and was delighted when he handed me my box. Unfortunately when i opened the box I did not receive a new adapter but instead a whole new battery for my computer. Which does not help if I don't have anything to charge the battery with.

So I called Best Buy again, told them about the mix up and ordered the correct item. I was suppose to receive said adapter yesterday, and I waited until 7pm for the UPS man who never did show up. I eventually had to call UPS and ask them why he didn't drop off my adapter. Seems like when I talked to the 2nd guy at best buy, I did not explain that it was being ship to Beckett Hughes and not Mommy Hughes. When UPS saw the difference in the name from the address he held on to the package until a verification was made on who would be picking up the item.

I held in the tears once again, and told said UPS lady that i would pick up the item myself in the morning. My aunt forgot to pay the cable bill, so we spent all night watching dvd's for those three and under. This did not make the wait any easier, and by 8am this morning I was dressed and ready to go. The UPS store is not in the town I live in, so i had to take a 12 dollar cab ride to some town outside of westchester county ( i think). When I arrived at UPS I handed over my ID, picked up my package and took a 12 dollar ride back 'home'.

In the cab, I noticed that my plug looked a little weird. There was no socket for me to put in my computer. The whole way 'home' i silently cursed under my breath that this was the wrong item, and that i would have to call best buy again. When i got back to the apartment, i tried shoving new ac adapter into any hole in my computer. After quite an effort, I gave up and just started sobbing.

It's been a rough couple of weeks and having a computer around would make it a lot easier. After I regained whatever composure I had left, I called best buy to order the same part for the third time in 3 weeks. I was literally crying on the phone as i tried to explain why this adapter wasn't the right one

Me: It just doesn't go anywhere, I have been trying to shove it in any outlet in my computer but i think its the wrong one.
Geek Squad Guy: Did you check the rest of the box
Me: No
GSG: Well this adapter is more of a universal one, there should be some other pieces in the box and one them will be placed on the adapter and you can use it for your computer.

I may have jumped through the phone and kissed him on the mouth. Inside the box were the missing pieces and with that my weeks with best buy and ups has come to a close.

I can finally do some of the more important things...like check out what has happened in the news. The Perez Hilton news. And blog, search for some international grad schools (oh yeah i have to tell you all about that one) and write my story. It's good to be home.

And the Clouds Came Tumbling Down...

My cousin leaves for school tomorrow, which means  I cannot sneak into the living and use his computer anymore when he leaves to hang out with friends. Damn.

This week has been horrible and it is only Wednesday.

 I hate my job. I mean I really hate my job. Working at a bookstore and working at a college library are two different things. I can no longer take 3 hour breaks, talk with interesting co-workers and shelve books while listening to my iPod. At the bookstore I am accosted my patrons (who I call bookies) creeped out by some of my co-workers and needless to say drained from the question "can you recommend a book for me".

Instead of answering with a "hell no I can't recommend a book because there is no telling if what I like is what you'll like", I smile, pull up a list of the New York Times bestseller and tell them to take a chance with one of those titles. It's the NYT right? I think I hate my job the most because it isn't where I imagine myself in October. I was hoping to have a job in my desired field, hanging out with other weird and introspective writers and artist. I did not see myself behind a cash register telling customers that they can save 10% on all items in the store by becoming a member (25 dollar annual fee of course).

At this point I have all but abandoned any hope that I will get that internship. It has been 2 weeks since I emailed her my reader response and all I have received in my inbox is spam and more spam. 

I want to escape this place, but I know I don't have anywhere to go. I can't return home which no longer has my two cats waiting for me. There is nothing for me there and even pretending like there is hasn't worked out for me. But I can't imagine staying here, where I am leading a life that isn't entirely mine. I don't even feel like some big failure, I just feel like my place isn't here and I would rather be broke and happy, than making minimum wage and depressed. Because that's what i feel like, I feel completely and utterly outside of my body and things like happiness and optimism are masks I wear for other people so they don't worry about me. 

I tried to explain this all to my mom on Monday, but she was having none of it. She was growing angry and agitated with me on the phone as if  asking for my wants to be a reality isn't the way the world works. In so many words she was telling me to suck it up, that I have to be patient and that I won't get stuck working at a bookstore my whole life. But I don't even want to get to the point where I have to contemplate this job becoming some sort of career. Where all I do is come 'home' and talk about my day selling books. It's disheartening to say the least, and feel like quiting everyday. 

I didn't answer any of her phone calls yesterday, more out of anger towards myself than to her. Stagnation is a vice that I have never been able to accept or overcome, and this overcast of depression and anxiety has a lot to do with my future. Like I will be some sort of wasted potential scanning books and trying not to tell a customer to piss off.

I have been toying around with the idea of grad school. Yes, I may be using it as cushion right now but I know I am good at academics. Sometimes in my 'new' life as a 9-5 girl I don't have a sense of my potential. I am use to people telling me how much of it I have that even during shit days that knowledge comforted me. It made me somebody, it gave me a sense that I was going somewhere, that I was special. 

Now I don't feel special by anything or anyone. I can see myself seeking that affirmation from people I don't even know. There is a guy at my job who is an elementary school teacher, and even before i knew this i was drawn to him. He helped me out the first day of work, and called me 'kid' which for some reason I liked. He was good at explaining things, sarcastic in that new york kind of way, and did I mention sort of cute. He's in his early 30's, which right there I was like "whoa" but I like him  solely because I felt like he (as a teacher) could see the potential in me. He could see that outside of my flower shoes and crooked smile there was something special about me. Whether it be my depth or potential. There was something.

In the weeks since I first met him he hasn't said anything to me. I mean nothing. He sort of looks at me as if I am a weird new creature who he wants nothing to do with. We work in the same small circular information desk and he ignores me. This would not bother me so much if he wasn't so familiar with everyone else, including the girl I got trained with. He is funny, extroverted and charming. He wears cool glasses and has a deep rich laugh that comes straight from his stomach. 

I feel like he already knows what I'm about. The he can see past my facade and read me like some damn book. When I see him, I get a knot in my stomach that has nothing to do with my attraction to him. I feel like if i look him in the eyes he'll know everything about me and be turned off but who'll find underneath.

 He gives me a look sometimes (while ignoring me of course) that I can't fully read. I think it says that i am young, naive, and complicated. I can sense that he can read my need to feel special, and for that reason alone he deprives me of it. The other day I was walking with my eyes cast down, still aware of everyone walking in front of me. I could see him vaguely walking in my direction and when i tried to divert a collision he walked in my way and then veered off, causing me to run into a shelf. I feel like he's fucking with me, and bringing to light what I already know about myself. 

Without some purpose, without some affirmation I feel lost. I stumble around hoping to crash into something that will make me feel like a person again. Writing makes me feel whole, and without someone or something there to affirm it I am...walking around with an overcast of uncertainty that makes me feel less than human.  

I of course am not completely beaten down. I just realize that something has to change in order for me to have a sense of my own worth again (retail has a way of removing that from you). I could look for another job, I could tough it out until I snag an internship, but grad school is my top priority now. I hate that I have to ask for references again, and only hope that i can get some. Surprisingly I am not to worried about the writing sample. I have written pieces of a story that I am proud of, and that I know has the potential to be something. Along with regional schools, I am looking at some international programs. I am looking for places in London simply because I could develop as a writer outside of this crazy city. The idyllic countryside might stir my best work yet. Plus I have been looking for any reason to get out of the states.

I should have my charger plug on Monday. I can hardly wait. I have not played the Sims in weeks and it is driving me crazy. Plus after writing this post I feel a little better (if not embarrassed for admitting my attraction to this guy whose name is...wait for it...wait for it...MIKE, go figure). 

Until Then

~Beckett.