You know what I hate about vacation. I hate the few days after you come home, when suddenly you are bombarded with the things you left behind and must find a way to readjust to your real life again.
I left New York knowing that August was going to be hectic. I have things to apply to, social activities I cannot bail on, and a job to secure before I am beyond broke. Being on vacation, you forget all the aches and pains of your 'real life' in favor of relaxation and blissful ignorance. While I was home, i played Rock Band with my brother, went thrift store shopping with my mom, and pranced around in a ridiculous wig because it was fun.
I was relaxed the whole time, I slept more than I should have followed by consuming more food than I should have. And the closer my vacation got to being over, the more tense I felt because I knew the moment I landed in New York the real world would smack me in the face. That I would have to arm myself with body armour and forge ahead.
Yep. That pretty much sums it up.
I arrived in New York Sunday afternoon. After having my cab stolen by a lady with a pocket sized dog, getting caught up in a torrential rain storm and having another near face plant at Grand Central I made it home...and slept all day. I got texts throughout the night from co-workers/friends reminding me of lunch dates, movie screenings, and a potential skydiving trips I've promised to attend in the upcoming weeks (don't ask about the skydiving one). These events are all coming up quickly and I am sort of nervous, because I am trying to be as social as possible without wearing my introverted self out.
I am still perplexed as to why people want to hang out with me and must find ways to overcome this insecurity. This Sunday, I am invited to rooftop luncheon (which hopefully won't be as painful as the last one) with friends from work. Jenn, the girl who spent the night in my room, quit the store a few months back because of new manager and a teaching gig she got via her professor. Despite a few rough patches in our friendship I like her a lot. We get along really well and have a similar sense of humor (deadpan, dry). She moved to the city this summer and invited me and another girl over to her place for a rooftop picnic/ museum hopping day.
It was intended to be a "Nerd Day 2010 Extravaganza": food, wine, and sight seeing. No boys allowed. Of course that quickly changed, and our party of three rounded out to a party of five once Evan and Matt asked to come along. Either way I'm kind of excited about Sunday. The last time I was on a roof eating food, I was getting the stank eye from a very territorial editorial assistant. Let's hope I fare better this time around.
Marie is slightly 'jealous' of my so called social life of late. Being a good friend however, she does listen to me when I talk about my tentative plans with people. At the end of every conversation though she says ' i wish i had someone to do all those things with'. I wonder if I am doing the same thing to her that she did to me in college. A time when she called every two months to talk about her boyfriend, friends, and general awesomeness. Okay, I take that back, I am definitely not doing that to her. We talk everyday and I am not that vain but every time she mentions how she would kill to have something to do every weekend, I want to reply 'but you have a job. i don't. want to trade places'.
I am still very concerned about the job market and my lack of one. I hate that I would rather have a well paying, non hourly wage job than a friend to go to the movies with. In my hearts of hearts I want to balance both a social life with a career, but to say one is more important than the other at this point would be an understatement. What I wouldn't do to have a freaking job to go to on regularly scheduled days preferably with weekends off. Seriously.
And, while I was home I got my freaking passport. Well, I will have it in a couple of weeks but I have my crappy passport picture to prove it. I can't wait to get my passport booklet, which will of course be very unstamped blue booklet with crisp pages unturned pages. Having it, makes this UK a serious matter. I have my mind made up and I want to do the production scheme. I want to live abroad for a while and become one of those Americans who talk about their world travel whenever they can. Just without the pomposity of course.
In order to go to the UK though I am going to need a great deal of money for travel expensive hence why I am even more stressed out about getting a well paying job so that next summer I will be on my way across the pond.
So yeah I am mile deep in get togethers, birthday parties and that random skydiving trip but I am also looking ahead and trying to make sense of this life that I want to lead and where I wane to take it. My Vacation is officially over and the stress is back. Being home in South Carolina has already begun to feel like a distant pleasant memory that existed all too long ago.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I've Walked Alone.
I made quite a revelation a few weeks ago, that the root of my anxiety may lie in the fact that I never wanted to belong to a group of people.
Let me explain. Last Saturday I had the worst day at work in a very long time. It was a very chaotic day because we were short staffed, and there was a customer in the store who is banned because he goes into the kids department to stare at the children. After alerting the managers, once he walked in, I was told that that was not the guy and had made a mistake.
Knowing that I was not wrong, I kept my eye on the fucker and alerted other people of my co-workers of my concern. Moments later, guess who I found in the kids department being all kinds of sketchy. I altered the kids department lead who called a manager to voice her concern. They took her seriously and escorted him out of the store.
You know how I just summed that experience up in a paragraph to make it seem like it took 30 minutes from the time he entered the store to the time he was escorted out. Well it actually took about three hours of me stalking this guy around the store, most of which I spent pleading for someone to do something. It was the most immobilizing feeling. The minute Evan saw my face, he asked what was wrong and when I told him about the guy he immediately believed me and helped me alert my co-workers. It was impulsive and dumb I know, but my gut feelings never fail me, even when everyone around me is telling me I am wrong.
After the guy was booted from the store, I apologized to Evan for freaking out on him. I told him my anxiety started flaring up about the situation and I usually am in control of who gets to see me get all antsy. For some reason we bonded over this very uncomfortable situation (and my very uncomfortable admission to him), and while we were chatting it up at customer service (hours later) he shared with me an embarrassing piece of information I guess in return for my honesty.
We were looking at some tattoo books and I mentioned that I've always wanted one but don't see the point in branding my skin. Evan has several tattoos, and plans on getting more so he was bent on explaining the awesomeness of permanent skin ink. Some how we got to talking about other forms of body modification and he admitted that he also has a brand on his skin. Someone actually burnt his flesh to brand him with some symbol. Not only does he have a brand, but it's on his butt.
When he told me this I laughed out loud, because I thought he was kidding. No one gets a brand on their ass because they want to. But he kept repeating 'no seriously, i have one on my ass' while laughing nervously with me. At this point, I realized he wasn't kidding and apologized for laughing at him. Evan joined a fraternity in school and one of the 'rituals' or 'initiation' involves having your ass branded. He then pulled out his wallet and showed me fraternity card, all gold and pompous, to show his acceptance into the frat.
It occurred to me then, that this was not unusual. People sacrifice things all the time to belong to a group. There is this really famous body of work by John Locke (i believe) detailing this idea of a 'social contract' and the creation of a community. We all give up some rights in order to be accepted into a community. Whether that community is a social clique, a well intention group, or some dumb frat we do it to belong, but more importantly to have a place to belong. Sometimes in the extreme sense of having your ass branded. Mostly in less embarrassing or intrusive ways. And yet someone, I have avoided this sense of belonging to something for the last 24 years outside of family and the handful of people I call friends.
This cannot be normal.
Evans branding seems more normal than my aversion to belonging. I mean here is the nice, sensitive, happy drunk kid (20) from a wealthy publishing family who doesn't have to work at the bookstore but he does to make his own money. He has ginger hair and a really mischievous smile, and he can't help but like him.
But he also wants to belong so badly that he tries to please everyone. He hates being on the outside of anything. He once thought I was mad at him and spent the whole day apologizing to make sure we were on good terms. The moment he thinks he is falling out of 'flavor' with someone he will make inquiries about your well being and if he has done anything to offend you.
It's nice and annoying. I admitted to him that I never joined a sorority so I couldn't show him any nice laminated cards or ass branding I really said this to make light of the branding and to poke fun at myself. But thinking back on it, I've never really joined anything. I was never apart of any sort of team/group/person for longer than a week without bailing. I've never wanted to belong to one thing or person exclusively.
And the moments when I do feel I want to belong I don't know how to. I can't wrap myself around the fact that people want me to participate in something. That there is this group that I can belong to unabashedly and unashamed. And I can't help but feel this sense of loss at never wanting to belong to something as much as I want things to belong to me.
Case in Point: Simon.
I love the train ride to Grand Central Station. After zipping through all the towns that lie on the outskirt of the city, we cross this bridge and fly through Harlem. For some reason as we were passing some brownstones on the way to Grand Central, I remembered a story Simon told me about getting beat up in Harlem when he was in his early 20's. He was walking hand in hand with his girlfriend at the time and some teenagers approached them because, in his words, 'i was some white guy from the Upper East Side, walking hand in hand with an extremely hot black girl. It was bound to happen'.
He eventually got beat up by three of them and ended up in a hospital for face lacerations. He went to his father right after the event (because his dads a doctor and because it's his dad) to, I don't know, to cry to get help, to hear some sage words. And his father turned him away, bruised face and all. His dad was too busy with other things to calm his son down. And he told me that was the last time he spoke to his dad because of his lack of empathy. Because he couldn't give a shit because he didn't know how. And as he was telling me all of this in that damn Soho loft again, inches away from my face, I felt his immense connection that still makes me smile. I mean my head was bent and his head was bent we are staring each other in the eyes, which for someone with really bad eye contact is a landmark thing for me.
And I wanted to tell him I was sorry, I wanted to touch his face where the scars weren't anymore and tell him that I couldn't understand because I never got my ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers, but that I was sorry nonetheless. And at the time I didn't know what I was feeling then. It was feeling of both longing and distance, and my want to fill the gap between the two. I realize then that for once, in a very very very long time and maybe my first time ever, I wanted to belong to someone, to something that wasn't my own isolation. I wanted to be apart of his crappy sad sorry, and his IT knowledge, and his really nerdy clothes. I wanted to give way of some of my selfish personal space and insecurities, to belong to just a little part of him. The part of him that made me feel safe and connected and apart of some mutual social contract. This is what most people want to belong to.
And the whole time on the train, looking out at parts of the city I have seen a million times before, I couldn't help but get the sense of him that day. That there are parts of New York City that he will forever embody for me. That there was the time that I wanted to belong to someone and some concept that was completely out of my control.
And I fear that I dabble to loosely with wanting to belong to people or a group while also staying so far away from them. That I am so use to 'walking alone' I can't grasp the concept of letting someone in. Except him though. I really really liked him. So much that I was willing to relinquish some hold on my loner status to be apart of his life and allow him into mine.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Home Movies
It's day 5 of my vacation. I can't believe it.
I arrived in South Carolina on Thursday after what can only be described as the 'worst train ride in the whole entire world'. I don't want to say anything bad about the good old state of New Jersey. I love the movie Garden State and the famous people who came out of that place alive. But my relatively calm and quiet train cabin became a rowdy, loud, cabin from hell once we started boarding people in Trenton. I didn't get any sleep and I ended up sitting next to a 15 boy who kept looking down my shirt. Remind me never to wear lace around a 15 year old boy again.
When I reached my stop, I was a little sleep deprived (thanks crying baby) and hungry.
But the last few days have made up for the terror of that train ride. I mean how is it already Monday, I want the days to drag by a little more. The first day I slept, a bunch. Then I ate, a lot followed by more sleeping.
Friday was a little more eventful. I am dressing up as Amelia Pond (Dr. Who, 11th companion) for Halloween. I know, it's weird to be thinking about Halloween so early. That is exactly what I told Josh when he asked me if I was going to the Halloween Party he is throwing in October. I shrugged and said 'i don't know, ask me in October'. But then we started talking about costumes and because I am uber obsessed with Dr. Who, I immediately knew that I wanted to dress up as one of his companions, which is pretty hard to do seeing that they dress in everyday clothes. But, when i remembered that Amelia Pond was dressed as a kiss-o-gram/uk police officer in the first episode, I knew then what my costume was going to be.
The moment, I told Josh I was going to be Amelia Pond he gave me a look like 'really, your not a Amelia Pond kind of girl'. He suggested I dress as Martha Jones or even Rose Tyler because I'm not, in his words, 'as feisty as Amelia Pond'. I think what he was trying to say was that I couldn't pull off the whole sexy, feisty, and buxom red head thing. But the moment he said that I knew that I was definitely going to be Amy Pond because it's Halloween and I want to go against character. I don't care how silly I will look. The wigs down here are cheaper, so on Friday I bought two auburn ones for my costume. I actually look a lot better in them than I thought I would, and come September I'll start ordering the rest of the items.
Anyway.
This weekend my mom made a lot of food and we camped out in front of the living room watching a mini True Blood marathon. It's what my family does. We are the most introverted people in the whole entire world. Outside of each other, we tire of social interactions quickly, so when we are all together we don't need the excitement of other people. We prefer spending our time away from the world and find comfort inside.
I have five more days of my south carolina vacation and I intend on writing and reading some while I am home. I brought too many books with me of course, especially since I have a bookshelf full of novels I haven't touched, but I could get through three or four books while i'm here.
Of course, I came across the box of my old journals (in my closet) this weekend, which I attempted to read last summer but grew to depressed to read after a while. For some reason it's all too soon to read the misery of my teen years. I was an angry little bugger, who thought leaving this place would make everything better. Leaving has and it hasn't, and I am not yet at that age where I can look fondly back on the last twelve years of my life without resentment and regret. So despite wanting to spend the day reading the 13 or so journals I poured my heart into, I won't. I'm not ready yet.
But I am going to re-read the stories I wrote (because damn are they funny) and listen to my record player. The most exciting find these past few days has been some VHS tapes my mom found a few weeks ago but didn't know whether to throw out. They turned out to be tapes I recorded on some years ago and they are too amazing to chunk in the garbage. Before Youtube, I spent my summers recording music videos, tv clips and other nonsense on my brothers blank tapes. I watched some of them yesterday and they are like watching Home Videos of sorts. They are my own personal 'mix tapes' of everything I use to love when I was a teen.
So that's where I will be today. Reliving some memories while keeping some at bay.
God, it's good to be home. A proper post tomorrow. Mainly about Simon, because he invaded my thoughts as I was trailing through the city on Wednesday. So yeah, he deserves some revisiting. Tomorrow. Pinky Promise.
~Becks
p.s. I'm still receiving really strange comments in Chinese characters on a daily basis. Strange only because they aren't relevant to the posts ('share the great sense of Pinella'. I have no idea what this means). I'm not trying to be an ass in comment regulation and I understand that translations can get...well lost in translation... but some of these comments are just indecipherable and will be deleted.
Writing here has allowed me to reach and be reached by anyone who wants to stop by this 'space' and it's also why I will not privatize Everything Was. But if your comment hasn't appeared in the comments it's because I cannot make out the translations. I am not playing favorites or anything. Whoever wants to comment can, whoever wants to just read can do so also. I intend on allowing any and every comment that I can make out, especially those relevant to the post.
Everything else will be Deleted. I'm sorry.
That's all. Sorry for the small rant but I hate having to delete these comments only because I can't understand what they mean.
Monday, July 12, 2010
I Seriously Hate Packing.
My south carolina vacation starts in 48 hours.
Of course, because I love to procrastinate, I have saved the whole packing, cleaning, washing clothes thing, to the very last minute and now I fell overwhelmed with the mess in my room and the amount of things I have to do before then.
This weekend was horrible. A bunch of people scheduled vacations for the upcoming week (me included) which left the store short staffed despite the new hires. Speaking of new hires they suck. They are young, and high five one another and I caught three of them playing a game where one person makes an O formation with their pointer and thumb finger while trying to get the other person to look in the general direction of said formation.
I feel like I know this game, but from way back when and I cannot fathom why it's amusing now.
They are also are fucking up left from right, which isn't unusual seeing that they are new but when it messes with my work flow I'm not so sympathetic to that 'newbie' thing. On Friday I was put on a register for 10 minutes to relieve someone for a bathroom break. Three other people were on the register for the rest of the day and I never made a return to the cash register. That night the register I was on came up 100 dollars short and despite ringing up 7 people in that 10 minutes I, along with the two other people on that drawer for the day, were written up for cash variance. It's nothing terribly serious. They do it every time a cash drawer is over or under, but it's a pain in the ass because you can't point your finger at the new person even though you want to.
We also have a new Technical Support Lead in the store who everyone said was a Tool. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt because he looked sort of nervous and stiff when I met him. I engaged him in a meet and greet conversation and we kind of hit it off (after he called me sarcastic though). He told me he saved dogs and cats from the street and that despite being a jock he likes to read and write sometimes.
It was a very cute moment. I got a weird feeling in my belly, I imagine that's what the formation of a crush feels like: a million little molecules forming a ball in the pit of your stomach until you feel weighed down by affections.
For a moment, a moment I repeat, I thought he was going to be your cliche jock with a heart of gold character that I could hopelessly fawn over at work. That I could talk too about puppies and kittens and saving them from homelessness. Just me and him. He wouldn't admit this sort of non jocky things to the other people, it's too sensitive of a subject for him to share with just anyone. But moments later, he waves me over to his counter and asks me, because we've formed some sort of bond, if he can give hot customers his phone number while he is at work.
Seriously.
The ball in the pit of my stomach where I imagined us together wearing cargo pants while saving cute animals from the street burst and instead was replaced by undeniable rage at his betrayal. I hope my face didn't drop but I calmly told him that it would be unprofessional and could get him in trouble if the managers found out. "damn" he said "but she was really hot. I mean she didn't say it but I knew she wanted my number". So much for saving the animals together.
An hour later Evan came up to me and was like "New Guy.... is a Tool. Seriously. A Tooly McToolBag", so that will be his name on this blog for now on.
So needless to say I am happy for my vacation time. But I also am very nervous about leaving. I do have this weird fear of leaving things behind, only to return to something completely different. It was nice to assuage these fears with The Artist, who I spent 15 minutes saying goodbye to yesterday. He once said "with a name like yours i'd be a writer' and i've been attached to him, in a platonic way, ever since.
We rarely see each other at work, because he works in the music department, but when we do it's awesome. I admitted to him during my goodbyes that I love being home but fear letting go of what I have here for two weeks. Even though what I have here sucks and sometimes doesn't work out the way I want to. He agreed but said he'd be there when I returned, for a little while anyway, he promised.
I am both going to miss this place for a week and kiss the (hot) ground when I arrive in south carolina. I don't have anything terribly fun planned (the whole: no south carolina friends thing is really sort of a bummer) so I apologize now for posts about tv shows and books I have read.
Now back to cleaning, before a closing shift at the dreaded bookstore.
Of course, because I love to procrastinate, I have saved the whole packing, cleaning, washing clothes thing, to the very last minute and now I fell overwhelmed with the mess in my room and the amount of things I have to do before then.
This weekend was horrible. A bunch of people scheduled vacations for the upcoming week (me included) which left the store short staffed despite the new hires. Speaking of new hires they suck. They are young, and high five one another and I caught three of them playing a game where one person makes an O formation with their pointer and thumb finger while trying to get the other person to look in the general direction of said formation.
I feel like I know this game, but from way back when and I cannot fathom why it's amusing now.
They are also are fucking up left from right, which isn't unusual seeing that they are new but when it messes with my work flow I'm not so sympathetic to that 'newbie' thing. On Friday I was put on a register for 10 minutes to relieve someone for a bathroom break. Three other people were on the register for the rest of the day and I never made a return to the cash register. That night the register I was on came up 100 dollars short and despite ringing up 7 people in that 10 minutes I, along with the two other people on that drawer for the day, were written up for cash variance. It's nothing terribly serious. They do it every time a cash drawer is over or under, but it's a pain in the ass because you can't point your finger at the new person even though you want to.
We also have a new Technical Support Lead in the store who everyone said was a Tool. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt because he looked sort of nervous and stiff when I met him. I engaged him in a meet and greet conversation and we kind of hit it off (after he called me sarcastic though). He told me he saved dogs and cats from the street and that despite being a jock he likes to read and write sometimes.
It was a very cute moment. I got a weird feeling in my belly, I imagine that's what the formation of a crush feels like: a million little molecules forming a ball in the pit of your stomach until you feel weighed down by affections.
For a moment, a moment I repeat, I thought he was going to be your cliche jock with a heart of gold character that I could hopelessly fawn over at work. That I could talk too about puppies and kittens and saving them from homelessness. Just me and him. He wouldn't admit this sort of non jocky things to the other people, it's too sensitive of a subject for him to share with just anyone. But moments later, he waves me over to his counter and asks me, because we've formed some sort of bond, if he can give hot customers his phone number while he is at work.
Seriously.
The ball in the pit of my stomach where I imagined us together wearing cargo pants while saving cute animals from the street burst and instead was replaced by undeniable rage at his betrayal. I hope my face didn't drop but I calmly told him that it would be unprofessional and could get him in trouble if the managers found out. "damn" he said "but she was really hot. I mean she didn't say it but I knew she wanted my number". So much for saving the animals together.
An hour later Evan came up to me and was like "New Guy.... is a Tool. Seriously. A Tooly McToolBag", so that will be his name on this blog for now on.
So needless to say I am happy for my vacation time. But I also am very nervous about leaving. I do have this weird fear of leaving things behind, only to return to something completely different. It was nice to assuage these fears with The Artist, who I spent 15 minutes saying goodbye to yesterday. He once said "with a name like yours i'd be a writer' and i've been attached to him, in a platonic way, ever since.
We rarely see each other at work, because he works in the music department, but when we do it's awesome. I admitted to him during my goodbyes that I love being home but fear letting go of what I have here for two weeks. Even though what I have here sucks and sometimes doesn't work out the way I want to. He agreed but said he'd be there when I returned, for a little while anyway, he promised.
I am both going to miss this place for a week and kiss the (hot) ground when I arrive in south carolina. I don't have anything terribly fun planned (the whole: no south carolina friends thing is really sort of a bummer) so I apologize now for posts about tv shows and books I have read.
Now back to cleaning, before a closing shift at the dreaded bookstore.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Heat Wave
It is very hot outside.
In the north, when it hot outside the temperature seems to rise as the day comes to a close. Seriously. How is that possible. Isn't it suppose to get cooler in the evenings.
This is very disturbing to me. In the south, I'm use to the heat tapering off at night, almost to the point where you forgot that it just tried to kill you. Here, the mornings are cool followed by a hot afternoon and an scorching evening. And by the time the heat does let up, you have passed out from heat pains.
Case in point: I just got out of work and I feel all kinds of worn out by the heat. It feels like a sauna outside, and I sort of dragged my feet all the way home to the sound of fire trucks and police cars.
It was a slow and long closing shift. I walked into work feeling a little antsy and sick. The high today was like 97, the humidity made it feel like 103 and it didn't helped that i am all out of sorts about this job thing (the not having one and the wanting one). At the store, the managers want to cross train me in cafe, but they do not have a good track record of relinquishing you once you've stepped foot up there. I have no desire to get trained in cafe. I applied for a bookseller position, i know books. That's it.
Being in the cafe, even with the managers promising that it's only to familiarize me with the cash register, scares the crap out of me. Not because I don't want to serve coffee and deal with the dumb touch screen register (that has a little to do with it) but because, is this it? My grand advancement at work? I know that training me in cafe means I will be trained in all aspects of the store. This would be impressive if being a bookseller was a career for me. But it's not and part of my reasons for remaining a part time employee is to remind myself of this.
And they are offering me this opportunity as some form of advancement. To say hey, this is one more skill you will have that only a few in this store possess. The cafe manager told me it was a 'step in the right direction'. But I feel bad for not wanting it. I feel bad for not giving a shit because I don't want to go in that direction.
Nothing has been set in stone, and I have voiced my aversion to this temporary placement, but I'm still scared and nervous and beyond ready to move on from this place, and quick. But how?
While I was dealing with this aspect of my life, Evan (happy drunk guy from party) stopped me in an aisle and apologized for anything he might have said or did at the party this weekend. It was literally the first thing he said when he saw me. I thought this was weird, because outside of hugging me a little too comfortably, he was a jovial drunk.
But he kept asking 'how I was doing' and then reiterating 'about the other night'. This made me feel really weird and awkward. He looked guilty and embarrassed, and I wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him it was going to be OK.
In all honesty, I don't really know what he was attempting to apologize for. I wanted to tell him that he didn't do anything. But i do wonder what it is he thinks he did, and if it's the 'back craddle' thing I want to giggle. But I felt his tension the whole night, and this made me want to cry.
The heat has a way of isolating you in a crowd of familiar faces. When faced with your own dehydration and general yuckiness, you can be in your own head too much to worry about the person next to you. And while Evan was treading lightly around me, I was thinking about work, the manager was complaining about the heat I could feel how disconnected we felt from that place and each other. It's not to say that we were dismissive of one another during this close, but we were all too wrapped up confronting our own thoughts and fears to care.
The first short story I ever wrote revolved around a heat wave that causes a black out in a brownstone. I can't help but think about this story as the local TV anchors predict blackouts because of the heat and subsequent AC use. The story was your very typical 'the occupants come out to examine each other and their surroundings because of the power outage' sort of plot and the completion of it nearly drove me crazy.
After a week of late nights and tired eyes, the story focused on this one couple inside the now powerless brownstone, having to confront one another in the time that the power is out. I kept coming back to this idea that heat is the embodiment of tension and in that sense what the heat wave brings about is a realization that their relationship is on the brink of falling apart because of their inability to communicate in the silence. Their confrontation at the end is made evident by my allusions to what heat embodies. This sort of suffocating all encompassing fear that you can't breathe, even when you can feel your chest rising and falling.
And I'm sort of understanding why I wrote that story, as I sweat to death in this house hot. As i feel my own tensions build within me. In the south when it's hot, the evenings are like an old friend you never knew you missed until you see them in passing. The silence doesn't drive you too crazy because the cool air seems to sweep away all of your worries.
But here, the evenings combined with the heat can drive you mad. It seems to bounce off of the buildings and the people and the internal dialogues of strangers and friends with a brutality you never knew existed. The silence doesn't work as well. And you are sort of excited when the morning comes to alleviate all the tension that heat stirs up.
I'm sleepy, I should be asleep now. I'm concerned about these late night post and rants, I don't know if they make sense but my mind is a bowl of jello tonight.
Blame it on the heat.
In the north, when it hot outside the temperature seems to rise as the day comes to a close. Seriously. How is that possible. Isn't it suppose to get cooler in the evenings.
This is very disturbing to me. In the south, I'm use to the heat tapering off at night, almost to the point where you forgot that it just tried to kill you. Here, the mornings are cool followed by a hot afternoon and an scorching evening. And by the time the heat does let up, you have passed out from heat pains.
Case in point: I just got out of work and I feel all kinds of worn out by the heat. It feels like a sauna outside, and I sort of dragged my feet all the way home to the sound of fire trucks and police cars.
It was a slow and long closing shift. I walked into work feeling a little antsy and sick. The high today was like 97, the humidity made it feel like 103 and it didn't helped that i am all out of sorts about this job thing (the not having one and the wanting one). At the store, the managers want to cross train me in cafe, but they do not have a good track record of relinquishing you once you've stepped foot up there. I have no desire to get trained in cafe. I applied for a bookseller position, i know books. That's it.
Being in the cafe, even with the managers promising that it's only to familiarize me with the cash register, scares the crap out of me. Not because I don't want to serve coffee and deal with the dumb touch screen register (that has a little to do with it) but because, is this it? My grand advancement at work? I know that training me in cafe means I will be trained in all aspects of the store. This would be impressive if being a bookseller was a career for me. But it's not and part of my reasons for remaining a part time employee is to remind myself of this.
And they are offering me this opportunity as some form of advancement. To say hey, this is one more skill you will have that only a few in this store possess. The cafe manager told me it was a 'step in the right direction'. But I feel bad for not wanting it. I feel bad for not giving a shit because I don't want to go in that direction.
Nothing has been set in stone, and I have voiced my aversion to this temporary placement, but I'm still scared and nervous and beyond ready to move on from this place, and quick. But how?
While I was dealing with this aspect of my life, Evan (happy drunk guy from party) stopped me in an aisle and apologized for anything he might have said or did at the party this weekend. It was literally the first thing he said when he saw me. I thought this was weird, because outside of hugging me a little too comfortably, he was a jovial drunk.
But he kept asking 'how I was doing' and then reiterating 'about the other night'. This made me feel really weird and awkward. He looked guilty and embarrassed, and I wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him it was going to be OK.
In all honesty, I don't really know what he was attempting to apologize for. I wanted to tell him that he didn't do anything. But i do wonder what it is he thinks he did, and if it's the 'back craddle' thing I want to giggle. But I felt his tension the whole night, and this made me want to cry.
The heat has a way of isolating you in a crowd of familiar faces. When faced with your own dehydration and general yuckiness, you can be in your own head too much to worry about the person next to you. And while Evan was treading lightly around me, I was thinking about work, the manager was complaining about the heat I could feel how disconnected we felt from that place and each other. It's not to say that we were dismissive of one another during this close, but we were all too wrapped up confronting our own thoughts and fears to care.
The first short story I ever wrote revolved around a heat wave that causes a black out in a brownstone. I can't help but think about this story as the local TV anchors predict blackouts because of the heat and subsequent AC use. The story was your very typical 'the occupants come out to examine each other and their surroundings because of the power outage' sort of plot and the completion of it nearly drove me crazy.
After a week of late nights and tired eyes, the story focused on this one couple inside the now powerless brownstone, having to confront one another in the time that the power is out. I kept coming back to this idea that heat is the embodiment of tension and in that sense what the heat wave brings about is a realization that their relationship is on the brink of falling apart because of their inability to communicate in the silence. Their confrontation at the end is made evident by my allusions to what heat embodies. This sort of suffocating all encompassing fear that you can't breathe, even when you can feel your chest rising and falling.
And I'm sort of understanding why I wrote that story, as I sweat to death in this house hot. As i feel my own tensions build within me. In the south when it's hot, the evenings are like an old friend you never knew you missed until you see them in passing. The silence doesn't drive you too crazy because the cool air seems to sweep away all of your worries.
But here, the evenings combined with the heat can drive you mad. It seems to bounce off of the buildings and the people and the internal dialogues of strangers and friends with a brutality you never knew existed. The silence doesn't work as well. And you are sort of excited when the morning comes to alleviate all the tension that heat stirs up.
I'm sleepy, I should be asleep now. I'm concerned about these late night post and rants, I don't know if they make sense but my mind is a bowl of jello tonight.
Blame it on the heat.
Monday, July 05, 2010
'Are You A Licensed Bartender?'
Friday and Saturday were by far the craziest two days of this new york thing.
Yes, I went to a pool party. Yes, I drank some really weird drinks. Yes, I stumbled home two hours later feeling tipsy and at the same time ready to run a marathon. It was a really weird night.
It all began a week ago when the store manager up and quit (or got fired). It was an all to sudden departure and everyone at the store was shocked. Of all the managers she is the last one you imagined leaving. She's this uber tough, tiny, new yorker who plays smart ass and sweet very well. In all honesty the dynamic of the store is attributed to her lax approach to managing us.
As soon as we new she was leaving, an office party (at work and outside of work) was devised. Two parties. One at work and one at a bar near work. On friday the break room was littere with ballons and food,and a bucn of old and current employees not working that night were in there to meet up for the after work party. The bar get together was intended mainly for those of us who'd worked with her for the past year or so, sans most of the new hires. Because our schedule is made a week in advance some of us were scheduled to work that afternoon (me and about three other of the 'older' employees) and I couldn't find anyone to swift shifts.
When I came into work, I walked into a sea of familiar faces crowding the info desk, waiting to head to the bar. They were all dressed up and ready to have fun. It was a happy love fest of old employees and current ones wishing her off a truly good manager. Immediately, I regretted not trying harder to find someone to swift schedules. The closing group that night were all the newbies, except Brit and 'Cool Manager' who were all hoping to meet up later at the bar with everyone else.
And though I consider myself quite a loner with social skills of a wallflower I wanted to be apart of the group. I wanted to go and have a good time with all of these people I have grown to like. I didn't want to be stuck at work with a bunch of new people. So after everyone headed to the bar Brit, 'Cool Manager' and I made plans to get the store as clean as possible so that the three of us could possibly make it to the bar before the fun ended.
Along with the grou hangout at the bar an old co-worker, Nick (and Josh's Bff), was throwing a house party. This party was planned weeks in advance and Josh invited me to come like he does to all his parties. Most of the people from the bar were going to meet up at Nicks, to drink the rest of the night away and I felt the urge to go to both.
I must reiterate that for some reason I really wanted to do something social. And for the first time in awhile I sort of told anxiety to shut up and let me enjoy the night. Closing with a majority of new people made me feel all kinds of disconnected and I just wanted to have drink with a friend and celebrate the last of our normalcy before the new manager comes, more people leave, and I depart for vacation and hopefully soon, a new job.
We got out of work around midnight but by then everyone at the bar were either at Nick's or home. 'Cool Manager' agreed to drive those of us who wanted to go to the party there. But he was only going to stay for a half hour and would drive anyone back to the train station if needed. I wish I could say that as a father of three, a husband to a decent lady and a manager of the store coming to a drunken party with coworkers was weird. But 'Cool Manager' literally stopped by to say hey, surveyed the party atmosphere and asked everyone he drove there if they wanted a ride home. He was oddly....appropriate the whole night.
Nick lives in a huge house. Scratch that. Nicks parents are rich and live in a huge house. There was a pool and a patio and a lounge/game room. Most of the party took place in the kitchen, where the table and counter was littered with alcohol. When I stepped in, Josh and Evan (both very drunk at this point) started yelling 'holy shit. holy shit. am I dreaming. beckett actually came to our party'.
Once I escaped there drunken hugs, I started chatting with some of my co-workers and opened a beer. I've never had a beer before. This one tasted like seltzer water, except for the fact that seltzer water doesn't make me dizzy.
As I was slowing sipping my beer, watching a bunch of familiar and unfamiliar faces stumble about, a guy wearing a ridiculous hat started engaging people to take jello shots. Because I was standing in the general vicinity he handed me and 'Cool Manager' one. 'Cool Manager' discarded his while I, not knowing what to do, kept mine. All of a sudden five people clinked their jello shots in the air and chugged them.
I on the other hand, being me, thought jello was for eating. So i painfully looked around for a spoon. Why would I want to chug jello? I freaking love jello, especially shiny red jello. It's to be consumed slowly not chugged, I don't care if there is alcohol in it. While everyone was hooting after the consumption of their jello shots, I decided to start eating mine sans spoon. Top Hat spots me and seems very upset by this. 'What are you doing' he starts. Need I remind you he is wearing a Top Hat, his eyes are barely open and he's so red in the face I want to giggle. 'eating my jello'. 'didn't we click glasses' 'yes' 'didn't we agree to down them together in the group' 'yes' 'then what are you doing still with yours' 'i wanted to eat it'.
He pauses, then looks around to the ONLY area of the room where there are no people. 'She's not following the rules' he yells in the direction where no one is standing, 'someone tell her to finish her jello shot'. Out of nowhere a dazed and confused/drunk Evan starts yelling at Top Hat 'leave her alone man. Don't touch her. She's cool. She's cool. Don't touch her man. She's cool. She's cool'. I turned and Evan is wearing a straw beach hat, and has found his way to us. I slink away from Top Hat, and put my jello shot down. 'Sorry about that' Evan says 'he's very serious about the jello shots'. My own drunken hero.
Soon after Matt, the writer who isn't much of a good writer, made a drink for me. By this point I am completely tipsy. I cannot stop laughing, my body feels weightless and the words are just tumbling from my mouth. Despite being tipsy, I am still very conscious of my thoughts so much that I am analyzing aspects of the night like the narrator for one of those nature documentaries.
I am describing everything as if they are aspects of a story I am writing. Except that I am saying it out loud from time to time. At one point I went to the fridge to grab ice and Matt comes up next to me. I make a point of asking him about all the weird drinks I see in the fridge. I want him to describe them to me so that I can describe them back. 'Whats this' 'It's alcohol in a syringe' 'alcohol in a syringe? why' 'because people drink it' 'from the syringe' 'yes.' I pause and then say ' there is, like, alcohol in it to be squeezed out of syringe? interesting'. He laughed and then offered to make me an apple martini.
When he showed up with the glass in his hand, I could hear my mothers voice say 'don't take drinks from anyone'. That whole evening The Artist (who was there with his wife) kept an eye on me. Though I only drank about three things, he carefully sniffed, examined, and eyed them first before allowing me to take a sip. He told me later that he just didn't want me to end up like this Natalie, a cafe server who passed out several drinks earlier on the floor. Remind me to thank him
After The Artist examined the martini, he said it was good enough to drink but it didn't stop me from questioning Matt about it's content. 'can i ask you a question before i drink this' 'yes' 'are you a licensed bartender' i remember saying. He stared at me blankly and said 'no, but i know good drinks' Who asks a person if they are a bartender. Oh, I forgot me.
The martini thing was good. But it tasted too much like juice and I didn't want to keep drinking it as if it were. 'Cool Manager' told the room that he was leaving, and the 'The Artist' and his wife soon followed. His wife was the DD, so he wanted to know if I needed a ride back home. I had enough sense to say 'yes' and around 2 am they dropped me off safely near my house.
It was a fun night. I mean I woke up feeling like crap but for the most part it was fun. The next couple of months are going to be weird. I can feel this huge shift invading my comfort zone, which is a good and sad thing. Good in the sense, that a new job and more money would be awesome, but sad because this weekend felt like a goodbye party in some many ways.
I'm headed home in week, for a 10 day vacation. I'm getting my passport, and this week I have to send out query letters for the four production schemes I am applying to. When I get back to New York I must crack done on getting a job, even if that means contacting those damn temp agencies. I have a lot to do, and a lot more to think about. But for once, being an average 24 year old whose only worries are the bartending credentials of friends was relaxing. And fun.
I've heard stories about the events from the bar; drunken managers, angry drunken employees, and someone got kicked out of the bar from throwing up every where. There is an episode of 30 rock where the cast and crew of the faux snl like show attend Kenneth's house party. The scene cuts from everyone in the elevator saying how lame Kenneth's party is going to be to the next morning where everyone is in Jacks office looking like death. Jack goes on to apologize for the events that transpired at the party, to a dead pan room of embarrassed and scarred cast members. It remains my favorite episode of the series and that is how I suppose the next few days will be. We will be a bunch of embarrassed employees trying to relive and forget some aspects of this weekend.
Good times, I say. Good Times
Yes, I went to a pool party. Yes, I drank some really weird drinks. Yes, I stumbled home two hours later feeling tipsy and at the same time ready to run a marathon. It was a really weird night.
It all began a week ago when the store manager up and quit (or got fired). It was an all to sudden departure and everyone at the store was shocked. Of all the managers she is the last one you imagined leaving. She's this uber tough, tiny, new yorker who plays smart ass and sweet very well. In all honesty the dynamic of the store is attributed to her lax approach to managing us.
As soon as we new she was leaving, an office party (at work and outside of work) was devised. Two parties. One at work and one at a bar near work. On friday the break room was littere with ballons and food,and a bucn of old and current employees not working that night were in there to meet up for the after work party. The bar get together was intended mainly for those of us who'd worked with her for the past year or so, sans most of the new hires. Because our schedule is made a week in advance some of us were scheduled to work that afternoon (me and about three other of the 'older' employees) and I couldn't find anyone to swift shifts.
When I came into work, I walked into a sea of familiar faces crowding the info desk, waiting to head to the bar. They were all dressed up and ready to have fun. It was a happy love fest of old employees and current ones wishing her off a truly good manager. Immediately, I regretted not trying harder to find someone to swift schedules. The closing group that night were all the newbies, except Brit and 'Cool Manager' who were all hoping to meet up later at the bar with everyone else.
And though I consider myself quite a loner with social skills of a wallflower I wanted to be apart of the group. I wanted to go and have a good time with all of these people I have grown to like. I didn't want to be stuck at work with a bunch of new people. So after everyone headed to the bar Brit, 'Cool Manager' and I made plans to get the store as clean as possible so that the three of us could possibly make it to the bar before the fun ended.
Along with the grou hangout at the bar an old co-worker, Nick (and Josh's Bff), was throwing a house party. This party was planned weeks in advance and Josh invited me to come like he does to all his parties. Most of the people from the bar were going to meet up at Nicks, to drink the rest of the night away and I felt the urge to go to both.
I must reiterate that for some reason I really wanted to do something social. And for the first time in awhile I sort of told anxiety to shut up and let me enjoy the night. Closing with a majority of new people made me feel all kinds of disconnected and I just wanted to have drink with a friend and celebrate the last of our normalcy before the new manager comes, more people leave, and I depart for vacation and hopefully soon, a new job.
We got out of work around midnight but by then everyone at the bar were either at Nick's or home. 'Cool Manager' agreed to drive those of us who wanted to go to the party there. But he was only going to stay for a half hour and would drive anyone back to the train station if needed. I wish I could say that as a father of three, a husband to a decent lady and a manager of the store coming to a drunken party with coworkers was weird. But 'Cool Manager' literally stopped by to say hey, surveyed the party atmosphere and asked everyone he drove there if they wanted a ride home. He was oddly....appropriate the whole night.
Nick lives in a huge house. Scratch that. Nicks parents are rich and live in a huge house. There was a pool and a patio and a lounge/game room. Most of the party took place in the kitchen, where the table and counter was littered with alcohol. When I stepped in, Josh and Evan (both very drunk at this point) started yelling 'holy shit. holy shit. am I dreaming. beckett actually came to our party'.
Once I escaped there drunken hugs, I started chatting with some of my co-workers and opened a beer. I've never had a beer before. This one tasted like seltzer water, except for the fact that seltzer water doesn't make me dizzy.
As I was slowing sipping my beer, watching a bunch of familiar and unfamiliar faces stumble about, a guy wearing a ridiculous hat started engaging people to take jello shots. Because I was standing in the general vicinity he handed me and 'Cool Manager' one. 'Cool Manager' discarded his while I, not knowing what to do, kept mine. All of a sudden five people clinked their jello shots in the air and chugged them.
I on the other hand, being me, thought jello was for eating. So i painfully looked around for a spoon. Why would I want to chug jello? I freaking love jello, especially shiny red jello. It's to be consumed slowly not chugged, I don't care if there is alcohol in it. While everyone was hooting after the consumption of their jello shots, I decided to start eating mine sans spoon. Top Hat spots me and seems very upset by this. 'What are you doing' he starts. Need I remind you he is wearing a Top Hat, his eyes are barely open and he's so red in the face I want to giggle. 'eating my jello'. 'didn't we click glasses' 'yes' 'didn't we agree to down them together in the group' 'yes' 'then what are you doing still with yours' 'i wanted to eat it'.
He pauses, then looks around to the ONLY area of the room where there are no people. 'She's not following the rules' he yells in the direction where no one is standing, 'someone tell her to finish her jello shot'. Out of nowhere a dazed and confused/drunk Evan starts yelling at Top Hat 'leave her alone man. Don't touch her. She's cool. She's cool. Don't touch her man. She's cool. She's cool'. I turned and Evan is wearing a straw beach hat, and has found his way to us. I slink away from Top Hat, and put my jello shot down. 'Sorry about that' Evan says 'he's very serious about the jello shots'. My own drunken hero.
Soon after Matt, the writer who isn't much of a good writer, made a drink for me. By this point I am completely tipsy. I cannot stop laughing, my body feels weightless and the words are just tumbling from my mouth. Despite being tipsy, I am still very conscious of my thoughts so much that I am analyzing aspects of the night like the narrator for one of those nature documentaries.
I am describing everything as if they are aspects of a story I am writing. Except that I am saying it out loud from time to time. At one point I went to the fridge to grab ice and Matt comes up next to me. I make a point of asking him about all the weird drinks I see in the fridge. I want him to describe them to me so that I can describe them back. 'Whats this' 'It's alcohol in a syringe' 'alcohol in a syringe? why' 'because people drink it' 'from the syringe' 'yes.' I pause and then say ' there is, like, alcohol in it to be squeezed out of syringe? interesting'. He laughed and then offered to make me an apple martini.
When he showed up with the glass in his hand, I could hear my mothers voice say 'don't take drinks from anyone'. That whole evening The Artist (who was there with his wife) kept an eye on me. Though I only drank about three things, he carefully sniffed, examined, and eyed them first before allowing me to take a sip. He told me later that he just didn't want me to end up like this Natalie, a cafe server who passed out several drinks earlier on the floor. Remind me to thank him
After The Artist examined the martini, he said it was good enough to drink but it didn't stop me from questioning Matt about it's content. 'can i ask you a question before i drink this' 'yes' 'are you a licensed bartender' i remember saying. He stared at me blankly and said 'no, but i know good drinks' Who asks a person if they are a bartender. Oh, I forgot me.
The martini thing was good. But it tasted too much like juice and I didn't want to keep drinking it as if it were. 'Cool Manager' told the room that he was leaving, and the 'The Artist' and his wife soon followed. His wife was the DD, so he wanted to know if I needed a ride back home. I had enough sense to say 'yes' and around 2 am they dropped me off safely near my house.
It was a fun night. I mean I woke up feeling like crap but for the most part it was fun. The next couple of months are going to be weird. I can feel this huge shift invading my comfort zone, which is a good and sad thing. Good in the sense, that a new job and more money would be awesome, but sad because this weekend felt like a goodbye party in some many ways.
I'm headed home in week, for a 10 day vacation. I'm getting my passport, and this week I have to send out query letters for the four production schemes I am applying to. When I get back to New York I must crack done on getting a job, even if that means contacting those damn temp agencies. I have a lot to do, and a lot more to think about. But for once, being an average 24 year old whose only worries are the bartending credentials of friends was relaxing. And fun.
I've heard stories about the events from the bar; drunken managers, angry drunken employees, and someone got kicked out of the bar from throwing up every where. There is an episode of 30 rock where the cast and crew of the faux snl like show attend Kenneth's house party. The scene cuts from everyone in the elevator saying how lame Kenneth's party is going to be to the next morning where everyone is in Jacks office looking like death. Jack goes on to apologize for the events that transpired at the party, to a dead pan room of embarrassed and scarred cast members. It remains my favorite episode of the series and that is how I suppose the next few days will be. We will be a bunch of embarrassed employees trying to relive and forget some aspects of this weekend.
Good times, I say. Good Times
Sunday, July 04, 2010
I Haven't Forgotten You....
....just in case you were wondering buddy, you are in my thoughts every fucking day.
We miss you more than your little heart would ever know. And sometimes, when i'm by myself I wonder how your laugh would sound. I miss not knowing that most of all.
I hope where everyone you are, you can feel our love from down here.
your aunt,
beckett.
We miss you more than your little heart would ever know. And sometimes, when i'm by myself I wonder how your laugh would sound. I miss not knowing that most of all.
I hope where everyone you are, you can feel our love from down here.
your aunt,
beckett.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Happy Drunk?
Tonight was the Store managers last day at work.
People from the office threw a big party for her at one of the bars downtown. Everyone got extremely drunk.
I only know this because they came into work, already feeling the affects of alcohol. And though I am not much of a partier, I too wanted to commemorate the awesomeness that was our store manager.
I worked super hard to get the store clean so that I, along with the rest of the closers could jump on the party train (that is a weird phrase)
Needless to say I missed the bar party (which I hear was an uber love fest) but was able to make it to my favorite co-workers house party. I had my first shot, followed by a beer and then some weird vodka apple mix thing.
I think I'm drunk. I feel drunk. I feel completely in control of my body except the whole lucid part. I made the decision to leave early along with another group of people because
I didn't want to wake up in someones basement. I refuse to do that.
Does this constitute as a drunk post. Perhaps. Of course I would want to document my first real drunk experience. At least I'll remember to delete it in the morning.
~Becks
People from the office threw a big party for her at one of the bars downtown. Everyone got extremely drunk.
I only know this because they came into work, already feeling the affects of alcohol. And though I am not much of a partier, I too wanted to commemorate the awesomeness that was our store manager.
I worked super hard to get the store clean so that I, along with the rest of the closers could jump on the party train (that is a weird phrase)
Needless to say I missed the bar party (which I hear was an uber love fest) but was able to make it to my favorite co-workers house party. I had my first shot, followed by a beer and then some weird vodka apple mix thing.
I think I'm drunk. I feel drunk. I feel completely in control of my body except the whole lucid part. I made the decision to leave early along with another group of people because
I didn't want to wake up in someones basement. I refuse to do that.
Does this constitute as a drunk post. Perhaps. Of course I would want to document my first real drunk experience. At least I'll remember to delete it in the morning.
~Becks
Friday, July 02, 2010
The Replacement.
Ever since I was a kid I've been terrified by the idea of being replaced.
A few days ago I was talking to my mom about my brother. Well, it was more like she was complaining to me over the phone about my brothers laziness. My mom has been watching a lot of BBC America ever since I told her about my plans for next year. She is also getting a passport this fall and has told me repeatedly that she is super excited about my UK thing. She wouldn't mind leaving South Carolina for a while to visit me overseas.
But sometimes, this is where she started complaining, she feels like my brother is holding her back. That she always accountable for him one way or the other. She 'wants to be able to leave her house without having to worry that Morgan will mess things up while she's gone".
In my mind, I've always been concerned that my mom would one day pack up and leave us.... without telling anyone. And when she made that comment, my stomach felt weird because when I was a kid that was my greatest worry. Though I've disagreed with my mom on numerous occasions she is your 'moms mom' and in actuality she never even hinted of wanting to replace us or leave us . She is your classic 'slightly overprotective, all encompassing 'puts her kids first sort of person. But knowing this has never squashed my fears of abandonment because we were not always the best kids in the whole entire world. And when my mom started dating James, who had two kids already, this fear was suffocating
I'd freak out if she didn't come home around the time she was suppose to. I'd convince myself that today was the day, she finally upgraded to a better family. I use to have dreams that found a new family who resembled us in every way, except that they were 'better'. In my dreams she always upgraded to a family with a son and a daughter, who were beautiful well behaved but not overly complicated kids. Those kids never fought over toys or pretended to be mad scientist. Those kids never roller bladed in the house or complained about lame Christmas presents.
Those kids and that new family, were just right. And who would settle for sub par when you can have 'just right'
And these fears of being replaced had everything to do with my own feelings of inadequacy. Why would see want us, when she could have someone else. Because a replacement is always an upgrade. No one is ever like 'you know what I feel like having a slighter poorer version of what I've got now'.
Though I have resolved that part of my life in regards to my mother, I still worry everyday that the people I know, the job that I have, the job that I want will seek a better version of me. That in some way, I am always a person away from being replaced by a more competent 'model'.
There are some uber big changes in store, especially in the job front. The store manager of the bookstore is leaving (fired, booted, who knows?) today. After telling us last Friday of her 'decision' to leave, her last day is here. People are generally concerned and sad about this. 1) because she allowed the kind of 'hang out amongst friend' atmosphere that we are all kind of use to and 2) because no one knows who is going to replace her. This person could be a tyrant or a stickler for rules. I mean you never know.
With the store manager leaving the rest of the managers are trying to prepare us for the new changes bound to come. What is also very interesting, is that the store layout is actually changing too. Just the other day sections were ripped out and then redistributed elsewhere and I felt so lost in the store. Like I'd never been there before. And now everything is sort of shifting and changing that it's all too much to handle.
We've got a bunch of new faces, who are there to fill in the holes. The other day I was told to train a new girl because she would be my 'replacement' in the kids department. I sort of wanted to protest this. Though I don't like being in the kids department all day (it can get really boring back there) I refuse to train my replacement. Refuse.
But where I worry about being replaced, I am also trying to accept the benefit of change. I can't be at the bookstore forever, I can't live in new york making minimum wage forever. The things that I love about living here, cannot make up for the things that frustrate the hell out of me, and stagnation is unbearable.
Everyone, including me, is so worried about changes which will affect the store that we (me) are losing sight of the big picture. I especially am sort of neglecting to accept the changes I want to make for myself. My wants and needs from two years ago are mere shadows compared to what they are now. And I am sort of ready to upgrade, not because I hate the older version but because I've done all I can with it.
People are not easily replaceable, and perhaps I've gotten that aspect wrong. In believing that my mom would up and run away from us, I believed that she would do so only to find a version of myself I never believed I could be. But I am sort of confronting my fears of being 'replaced', by imagining a better version of me through me.
It's what adults realize all the time. That there comes a time when the person you are could only happen from the slight variations of the person you were. Getting older is weird and not easy. I happen to be the same 19 year old college sophomore that started this journal five years ago except for the improvements that I can only attribute to growing pains. Like all the angst, and misery and self loathing have been replaced by...something else.
When I think of it this way, change doesn't seem so scary. It doesn't mean that being replaced doesn't scare the shit out of me anymore, because it does. But as I am seeking to replace my current situation with something 'better' I can't help but understand the benefits of my old foe 'change'.
A few days ago I was talking to my mom about my brother. Well, it was more like she was complaining to me over the phone about my brothers laziness. My mom has been watching a lot of BBC America ever since I told her about my plans for next year. She is also getting a passport this fall and has told me repeatedly that she is super excited about my UK thing. She wouldn't mind leaving South Carolina for a while to visit me overseas.
But sometimes, this is where she started complaining, she feels like my brother is holding her back. That she always accountable for him one way or the other. She 'wants to be able to leave her house without having to worry that Morgan will mess things up while she's gone".
In my mind, I've always been concerned that my mom would one day pack up and leave us.... without telling anyone. And when she made that comment, my stomach felt weird because when I was a kid that was my greatest worry. Though I've disagreed with my mom on numerous occasions she is your 'moms mom' and in actuality she never even hinted of wanting to replace us or leave us . She is your classic 'slightly overprotective, all encompassing 'puts her kids first sort of person. But knowing this has never squashed my fears of abandonment because we were not always the best kids in the whole entire world. And when my mom started dating James, who had two kids already, this fear was suffocating
I'd freak out if she didn't come home around the time she was suppose to. I'd convince myself that today was the day, she finally upgraded to a better family. I use to have dreams that found a new family who resembled us in every way, except that they were 'better'. In my dreams she always upgraded to a family with a son and a daughter, who were beautiful well behaved but not overly complicated kids. Those kids never fought over toys or pretended to be mad scientist. Those kids never roller bladed in the house or complained about lame Christmas presents.
Those kids and that new family, were just right. And who would settle for sub par when you can have 'just right'
And these fears of being replaced had everything to do with my own feelings of inadequacy. Why would see want us, when she could have someone else. Because a replacement is always an upgrade. No one is ever like 'you know what I feel like having a slighter poorer version of what I've got now'.
Though I have resolved that part of my life in regards to my mother, I still worry everyday that the people I know, the job that I have, the job that I want will seek a better version of me. That in some way, I am always a person away from being replaced by a more competent 'model'.
There are some uber big changes in store, especially in the job front. The store manager of the bookstore is leaving (fired, booted, who knows?) today. After telling us last Friday of her 'decision' to leave, her last day is here. People are generally concerned and sad about this. 1) because she allowed the kind of 'hang out amongst friend' atmosphere that we are all kind of use to and 2) because no one knows who is going to replace her. This person could be a tyrant or a stickler for rules. I mean you never know.
With the store manager leaving the rest of the managers are trying to prepare us for the new changes bound to come. What is also very interesting, is that the store layout is actually changing too. Just the other day sections were ripped out and then redistributed elsewhere and I felt so lost in the store. Like I'd never been there before. And now everything is sort of shifting and changing that it's all too much to handle.
We've got a bunch of new faces, who are there to fill in the holes. The other day I was told to train a new girl because she would be my 'replacement' in the kids department. I sort of wanted to protest this. Though I don't like being in the kids department all day (it can get really boring back there) I refuse to train my replacement. Refuse.
But where I worry about being replaced, I am also trying to accept the benefit of change. I can't be at the bookstore forever, I can't live in new york making minimum wage forever. The things that I love about living here, cannot make up for the things that frustrate the hell out of me, and stagnation is unbearable.
Everyone, including me, is so worried about changes which will affect the store that we (me) are losing sight of the big picture. I especially am sort of neglecting to accept the changes I want to make for myself. My wants and needs from two years ago are mere shadows compared to what they are now. And I am sort of ready to upgrade, not because I hate the older version but because I've done all I can with it.
People are not easily replaceable, and perhaps I've gotten that aspect wrong. In believing that my mom would up and run away from us, I believed that she would do so only to find a version of myself I never believed I could be. But I am sort of confronting my fears of being 'replaced', by imagining a better version of me through me.
It's what adults realize all the time. That there comes a time when the person you are could only happen from the slight variations of the person you were. Getting older is weird and not easy. I happen to be the same 19 year old college sophomore that started this journal five years ago except for the improvements that I can only attribute to growing pains. Like all the angst, and misery and self loathing have been replaced by...something else.
When I think of it this way, change doesn't seem so scary. It doesn't mean that being replaced doesn't scare the shit out of me anymore, because it does. But as I am seeking to replace my current situation with something 'better' I can't help but understand the benefits of my old foe 'change'.
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