Exhausted.

Thanksgiving week was amazing. My mom made so much food this year that I was sent back to new york with leftovers. A lot of leftovers.

The train ride going to South Carolina was smooth sailings. I sat next to a lady who talked for a while, but other than that the ride was a breeze.

Coming back was a whole different story. There was a crying baby in front of me, I sat next to a guy who hummed, farted and snored the whole way, and the traffic in New York was crazy.

I got home a little over four hours ago but I am wiped out. Luckily I am not on the schedule today so I won't have to encounter retail hell until tomorrow afternoon.

But I think I am going to call it a night. Tomorrow I'll deal with unpacking, work and other such real life responsibilities. Tonight it's all about sleeping.

"Lady You Can Suck It! No, Not You. You!"

My internal dialogues at work worry me.

I feel like any posts about work this year will consist of me complaining about customers (and some employees). Maybe it's just my family, but we were never irritating holiday shoppers. Then again my mom never took my brother and I shopping with her during the holidays but I will bet money on it.

Now I love the holidays like the next person but I am so over the commercialization of it. And what's so weird is I'm not even that person. That person who complains that the celebration of Christmas has lost it's values. I know the holidays are about the gift giving, receiving and spending time with the family. But by in large it's kind of just one big holiday where we convince ourselves that splurging on gifts is okay because of Santa Claus and stuff. I am perfectly okay with this.

But when you work in retail you heart can harden when it comes to the whole holiday spirit thing. I don't know why people think they can act like complete assholes because Xmas is around the corner, but they do. And worse they take it out on the poor people working retail. It's like the law of man or something.

Soon after Halloween the store started to pick up with holiday shoppers. Usually the weekends at Le Sad Store are pretty busy but the last few weeks have been crazy. Today was no different, except that we all (all) had to have a mandatory holiday meeting that lasted from 8am to 10am. Our rather dismal crew converged in the cafe after consuming free doughnuts and fruit to listen to the managers praise, using that term loosely, our hard work and dedication. This was followed by a mandatory store tour where each manager (as we were split up into 5 groups that rotated from different managers in different departments) reiterated store procedures, policies and tips for the next few weeks.

We were all too tired to care really. Some people had to close last night and then show up for work at 8. They were the least functioning of us all this morning. The rest, were just pissed at having to come in that early for a meeting we could have done another day and time. I too was a little annoyed by the two hour mandatory meeting. I could have been on a train right now to South Carolina had the importance of this meeting not been drilled into my head. But I was forced to go, and also change my ticket reservation for tomorrow.

I unfortunately got stuck in a group with this chick named Joanne who wouldn't making suggestions during the 'tour'. Joanne is in her late 60's and started working at Le Sad Store part time on and off for 6 years. Up until 3 months ago she was living in Florida, having relocating there after her mom died. But she didn't like Florida. Not at all. And she doesn't mind telling you why she didn't like Florida if you stick around long enough for her to get a word out. Sometimes I like Joanne. She is completely nuts and sometimes I think she is starting to go senile. But the constant complaints can drive even the most sane person nuts.

During the tour she'd interject, when it was not necessary, to talk about things that have annoyed her since her return to the store. Like 'back when we started here, you couldn't just leave a crooked book laying around. it's not that hard to straighten something if it's off' or 'the people in cafe need to be a bit more tidy up there. I hate having to straighten things out up there because you guys don't".

We already had to sit through a 45 minute presentation from the managers, having to listen to her was all too much for my ears. I wanted to clock her. I might have thought about it several times during the tour. Especially as we were heading to the children's department and she spotted a book on a promo table that wasn't suppose to be here "see this is what I am talking about" she exclaimed, drawing our attention to the book and her frustrated face "we need to get this together people"

Her shift started a couple of hours after the store opened and her nonstop complaints began immediately. It's bad enough having to deal with customers who give you clues to a book that consists of 'it's blue and the word 'I' is in the title' but having to deal with infuriating employees is worse. You can't escape them as easily.

So yes, I may have thought really horrible thoughts today. Many of them about slapping too busy to be bothered with our 'slow' service customers to old employees who are losing their minds but somehow still work at a bookstore to pester a usually patient nice girl whose name starts with a B.

Luckily for the next 5 days I will not have to put up with Le Sad Store. Tomorrow I am heading home and I couldn't be happier. I am almost all packed up for my busy traveling day tomorrow. I always bring to many books home with me but for some reason I feel is it necessary to have a book of every genre to occupy my time on the train . I just finished reading Boys and Girls, Like You and Me, a collection of short stories that were cringe worthy and delightful and am bringing it along for the ride to thumb through again. I also have Kick Me, written by the Freaks and Geeks guy and Sunshine, a vampire novel that apparently lacks romance.

I usually end up bringing too much with me but for a 15 hour train ride you can never really bring too much. I'll have my cool Internet usb modem so that I can go online and watch hulu or netflix when my eyes get too tired from reading. Or possibly post something if the person I sit next to doesn't stare over at my screen. We'll see. I am just glad to have a few days away for awhile.

I look forward to being home with my family again. By day 2 I might think otherwise but for now it brings me comfort.

Seriously?!

In less than 48 Hours I will be on a train to South Carolina. Where the hell is fall going? Where the hell are the days going? How is Thanksgiving only a few days away?



I am excited about going home. Turkey Day is my favorite holiday but damn it all to hell if this year Thanksgiving didn't sneak up on me. I haven't even started packing and after a 8 hour shift I have to go to bed early so that I can wake up tomorrow and attend a very dumb mandatory holiday meeting at Le Sad Store. A Holiday Meeting?



Apparently they hold them every year. The managers will talk about the Holiday Season and procedures. They'll then run through all the promos, changeovers and yadda yadda yadda that are currently or will currently go on this year.



I've managed to miss this dumb meeting in the past but not this year. If we don't go we will get written up and knowing Evil Manager she will not only write you up but make a big deal of it in the future. So I, along with everyone else will be there bright and early tomorrow.



yay!



Afterwards I will have to start and finish packing/cleaning my room. I don't want to have to freak out come Monday morning because I still have a very messy room to clean and clothes to pack before my train leaves.



It's so weird that last year around this time I had just found a place for myself to live because my aunt kicked me out. I'd finished a pretty brutal interships at a publishing house and was embarking on new ventures. When I got back from vacation everything sort of fell into place. New home, new internship (that lasted a day. sorry), and the start of my new life in New York paying rent and trying to figure shit out.

I kind of hope that when I get back the same thing will happen. That the short break from my life here will open some new opportunities when i get back. On the job, boy and general happiness front. The last few weeks (sigh. months) have been hectic and crazy and...unpredictable. But I like living in New York and I think i really want to stay here. I just need things to sort of fall in place for once, so I can make that happen.

Fingers Crossed.

Anyway. Time to pack, clean and then sleep. The next few days are going to be a little busy but i'll try to post when I can.

~Becks

The High Road.

Today is the last day of my weird three day vacation. Due to scheduling conflicts (Evil Manager needs me to start working on Thursdays) I was schedule to work only four days this week. Because I usually have Tuesday and Thursdays off my three days ran back to back this week and it has been pretty great. I needed the rest.

On Monday I had a colossal breakdown. I was watching the trailer for a movie called Rabbit Hole, a film about a young couple dealing with the death of their toddler son, and I lost it. I can't describe it any other way.

I am struck by this grieving process. It just doesn't end. Some days I am totally okay. I can say his name. See his face. And remember the touch of his little baby feet without any problems. And other days, I can't without breaking out into hysterics. That is what happened on Monday. I came across the trailer again (I saw it a while back and made a mental note to watch it when it came out in theaters) but as soon as The High Road by Broken Bell starts playing, I am beside myself with grief.

I cried to the point of wanting to throw up. I cried to the point of yelling into my pillow. And by the time I made it to work, I was exhausted by my grief. I was exhausted, and angry and sad.

The movie is based on a play by the same name, and from thumbing through it at work, the movie follows the script exactly. Becca and Howie are dealing with the accidental death (and subsequent grief) of their four year old son Danny (of all names) very differently. Becca appears cold and indifferent, quickly removing items of Danny's life from their home. Howie is struggling to preserve every memory of Danny, and grieves alone by himself. Together their grief leads them down very different paths, threatening to distill their marriage and life.

It's been two years but the grief over my own Danny's death opens up like a fresh wound so easily, I wonder how me and my family made it through the few days after he died. I don't remember crying (hell, I even made a few posts afterwards). I remember having to make sure my brother was okay and that my mom was okay. I remember being asked to write something nice on his funeral page.

I remember being disconnected, like things were happening around me but not to me. I remember having to be strong because everyone and thing around me was soooo quiet. I mostly remember my mom crying, especially when it came time to delete his photo from the screensaver. It was too hard for her to get on the computer with his face staring back at her. She asked me quietly to do it for her, because she couldn't bring herself to. And with a click, he was gone.

With a click.

And then I was gone. It was a few weeks before graduation and we had to pull it together well enough to get me across the stage and finally to board the train to new york. July 2008 seems like a huge blur, re-reading the posts from them is so weird. I sound so disconnected and aloof, as if a pet bird died instead of my nephew. I am angry at myself because of this. Sometimes I am angry that I didn't stay with my family for a few more months, instead of moving up here a month after he died.

I am not an angry person. It is am emotion that I rarely have. But I feel caught in the middle of the several stages of grief. I am beyond bargaining. I am just mad and angry that we will forever have to go on without him here. That we were given a sneak peak at his life only to have it taken away.

So of course on Monday, having watched the trailer for this movie, feelings of sadness, anger and disbelief washed over me. It was if suddenly I'd been pulled away the currents by grief . Not that it is ever really gone but that day it was...overwhelming. Marie thinks the grief will always feel worse around the holidays. And she is right. It will.

But it also has to do with something I have not talked about on this blog. My brother has been dating a girl for about a year and a half now and they are expecting a baby this spring. I know my responsible, safe sex having brother. His girlfriend is uber nice, I met her this summer and she played Rock Band with Morgan and I. We are facebook friendly and she checks on me from time to time just to say hey.

And now she is pregnant, with a baby and I am...scared. I am excited for her and my brother and my mom. But I am scared. I am already losing concrete senses of Danny, and now there is a new baby coming. A boy who they have decided to name Elliot.

Outside of pictures and videos, the particulars of Danny are fading away due to time and his absence. He would have been three this year. He would have developed a personality; including a particular laugh, smile, manner of speech. But because he is no longer here, those things that would have created a firmer impression of him, for me, don't exist. And all i have are these fleeting memories of baby stares and sleep face.

And I am afraid of forgetting him. He will always be my first nephew. He will always be the one who got away. And I don't want to feel like he is being replaced. I don't want to feel like he is being erased by my dumb hands clicking him away.

And though everything else this week has been amazing, the grief has sort of over shadowed that and put me in a weird place. I feel bare and scrubbed down to the soft fleshy part of the skin that doesn't react well to direct sunlight or air. And I plan on seeing Rabbit Hole and buying the play because I am still grieving and struggling to understand his death. I still in a weird way struggling to understand our lives sense it.

Dreadful

Another horrible night at Le Sad Store. I got yelled at by one of my co-workers (who is not a manager) because she was irritated that I was talking to Jen, the girl who quit a couple of weeks ago but stopped by the store today to say hey.

Literally mid sentence Angry Co-worker, who is bitter about being 42 and working at the bookstore, can up to Jen and I as we were catching up in an aisle and said "Beckett you are on the clock, Jen you don't work here anymore. So I need you to get to work like now, and you (Jen) to stop bothering the people who work here".

Oh yeah. Bitch went there.

After that I couldn't concentrate on anything else. All I could think about was violently punching her in the face. She is the most miserable employee there. When she isn't muttering about Le Sad Store sucking she is spouting off about politics. Surprisingly up until this moment we got along really well. I am always really nice and patient around her and I try not to judge because working at the Le Sad Store does suck but working with people who I generally get along with makes it a little easier.

But her whole tone with us (me especially) was not necessary. And the moment she scolded us she knew she'd made some mistake. She went about her business and avoided me the rest of her shift. I intend on telling her (the next time i see her) that any future disagreements she has about how I spend my time at work can be brought up to me in a manner that is full of respect. Because I'd never talk to her the way she did. Ever.

I'll even use my adult tone and everything.

The rest of the night kind of went downhill from there. Josh sent me a freaking 23 page script the other day and expected me to have had read the damn thing along with providing a critique. I fear that I am going to have to remind him that I am not his editor. I tried to do this by explaining that I 'have my own stuff to write' to which he replied 'so. that has nothing to do with me'.

And this my friends is why I don't want to help him out. But he isn't the only one who is annoying me these days and my sweet patience has worn thin. I feel like my niceness is being taken advantage of and I am sort of over it. To the point of frustrated tears.

The holidays are bringing out the worst in people (who i work with and who shop at Le Sad Store) and I dread being there.

To top it all off, there is another opening at the Job I applied to, interviewed for but did not get back in August because my phone failed me (and I subsequently pissed off the HR Manager). I applied again and am sort of stressed out about this. I am crossing my fingers that I will be called in for another interview and that I am have the colossal do-over I begged for three months ago.

I sent in the application on Friday and can only hope that I can get an interview sometime this week.

Even the good aspects of Le Sad Store are starting to sour and I need a change stat. And I feel that an opportunity for that change is on the brink, if I don't go messing it up again.

Finding Light.

Last night was not a good night. My anxiety flared up again and I was distant, cold and dear i say aloof all night at work.

Hanging around kids is interesting. Sometimes I want to fault them for getting upset so quickly at trivial things. My cousin Michelle use to freak out so quickly that I often thought she was possessed by a demon.

I mean one day, we were sitting around watching the Disney Channel during dinner when she realized her food had suddenly gone cold.

The chick started freaking out. This was beyond a kid tantrum. This was a full blown freak out attack. It wasn't my fault she let the food sit for too long. Wasn't her fault Hannah Montana was one and she was too distracted to eat her then warm chicken nuggets. But it didn't matter. Within a matter of few seconds she screamed "my......food...is...COLD" and then started convulsing on the floor.

I quickly yelled "Michelle! We'll warm it up in the microwave. Chill Out". And guess what?The convulsing stopped, the tears dried and she said "oh" and handed me her plate.

At the time I thought this very sweet child (who loves dirt and the color purple) had gone crazy. But I realized she did, to the extreme of course, what most kids do when they feel unable to fix something. The moment she touched her cold chicken nuggets, she thought they'd always be cold. That her food was ruined and inedible. And rolling around on the floor was the only way to express said frustration and doubt.

And though I have not flailed around on the floor in a very long time, I understand now every little bout of frustration that floods her face when she comes across something that doesn't know how to overcome. It's the feeling of immobility and that you can't DO anything. That you have all the tools necessary to make things better but no clue how to apply them. For Michelle it's: buttoning jackets, putting on mittens, and well...cold food.

For me, it's how to overcome (or deal with ) anxiety and depression and jealousy especially when it strikes out of nowhere.


Last night I was soooo off my game. Matt was annoying the crap out of me all night. Not just Matt.... but everyone was driving me crazy last night if I can be completely honest. Ever since i sent Josh his critique he has billed me as his editor. Last night he came up to me and wouldn't stop talking about his story and that he wanted me to go through some of his scenes and edit his sentences so that it sounds 'fancy'. Then Matt wouldn't stop bugging me about the poem I promised to write him and the story idea I said I would let him know about. He joked around and said 'I'm beginning to lose confidence in you' which you cannot (repeat:cannot) say to a girl like me.

I felt guilty the rest of the night, followed by a tinge of jealousy because the dynamic at work is changing. Kat and Pretty Ricky are now BFF's (go figure). There is a new kid who was just promoted Head Cashier after being there for 5 weeks and I just feel left out of things. Which is no one's fault but my own to be honest. I find myself wanting these meaningful connections but then denying any form of interaction that I am uncomfortable with.

I want much more from these people than what i am entitled to and when I am faced with this fact I get sullen and sad. And it doesn't help that I can be a very irrational person sometimes. I can have two polar ideas in the same breath. And I can want and not want two things in a heartbeat. I am a conflicted, complicated girl.

By the end of the night feeling all but drained of energy I sulked in a corner while no one took notice (except awesome Music Guy). Matt invited a girl from cafe (who has a boyfriend. thank god) to some event he and some friends are throwing, Josh still wouldn't shut the hell up about his writing and there was a hub of people talking and interacting and forming bonds while I remained on the outside.

When I got home I just sort of collapsed into my pillow and let out this very frustrated cry. Anxiety, for me anyway, is as much about control as it is about chaos. I get anxious because I don't know how to verbalize what I feel. I have this fear that no one wants to hear what I have to say. I am moody and sullen and quickly distracted. But those characteristics are paired with a me who 90% of the time is bubbly, funny and kind.

But around other people I feel uninteresting because I don't have fiery red hair and visible emotional scars like Kat, or dazzling blue eyes like Smurf. I don't talk about myself like I am god's gift to world like Josh. I am not really religious and hawt like Pretty Ricky. And I am not street smart like McAbs.

I am small and delicate. I hide behind my hands when people argue, I sometimes wear mismatched socks and I take pictures of light in my room because it sways like it's breathing. It sways and flickers and calms me down.

But a girl like that doesn't have pretty boys falling over them. A girl like that isn't invited into conversations that matter. A girl like me, despite everything that Smurfboy says, still finds herself alone wondering where I fit in or if I ever will.

It was a devastatingly painful night knowing that I let Anxiety shroud my thoughts like that. That I would allow Anxiety to do the opposite of what the flickering lights do in my room. That instead of creating Light where the darkness resides, I let Anxiety time and time again cast shades of doubt because it's easier than fully seeing this interesting, personable, and stellar girl that I am. Despite the troubles that get in the way.

Yeah. Last night was rough. I'm still recovering.

Days Go By.

I have the next two days off. Can you believe it.

Of course this was not by luck or chance. About six weeks ago Graphic Artist Guy from Music invited me to his Birthday party (being held today in the city). I was uber excited about getting an invite because this dude is amazing on so many levels.

But as a cool Guy his party is not only in the city but at a concert hall in the wee hours of the night. I asked several other people if they were going to go but none of them got back to me soon enough. He lives in the Bronx so traveling to the city with a bunch of his friends and his wife will be a breeze. For me on the other hand I kind of wanted to have another person from work in attendance so I wouldn't be the only new face in a sea of his friends outside of work.

I didn't know until Wednesday that I wouldn't be able to make it to his party, but by then I'd already put in a request for that day off just in case I could get someone else to tag along with me. Because of this flub I have two days off in a row this week. Two days! I haven't been home on a Monday in ages, I don't even know what to do with myself.

Of course it is muggy and grey outside and all plans of going to the library and possibly buying a nerdy sweater are on hold. Instead I am going to do some research on sacred prostitution (it's for a story. I swear) and watch some documentaries on Netflix. Did I mention how much I love Fall. It's the only season where I have appropriate excuse for not leaving the house. The chill here hits the bones and the tips of fingers and toes. Who'd want to go outside to get smacked in the face by the wind and rain when you can stay inside drinking hot chocolate in the most comfortable green pj's ever.

I rest my case.

I've been keeping my spirits up lately by writing as much as I can. When I can. For some reason I have become the go to person for people at work who are interested in writing. It doesn't matter that I haven't shown any of them pieces of my work. My BA in English is all they need to think that I can edit and critique their stories like an agent or something.

Josh, who did not mention his party disaster, wanted me to read a short scene he wrote for a story he dreamed up a few days ago. Josh has never emailed me anything of his since I have known him and I was beginning to suspect he was all talk and no show. That night he sent me a two page snippet of a scene and I was sort of impressed by how bad it..wasn't.

So it wasn't the greatest thing I've read but it has massive potential. Though he only sent me two pages, I wrote him a four page critique hoping to help him in the areas his story were weak in. I also applauded the narrative tone of his story along with his use of effective language. It wasn't until I read over my own critique that I fully released I had taken to heart the lessons of my professors.

So yeah, I am horrible with passive voice and grammar and spelling and my general technique needs work. But my ability to pick up on those errors mean that I am willing to work on them. I emailed Josh my notes last night and I am sort of interested to hear what he thinks.

At dinner with Matt the other night, who i will now refer to as Smurf because of his smurf like colored eyes and because I am worried about someone from work stumbling across this blog thus putting the names and daily happenings together, I mentioned that Josh sent me a story that wasn't too bad. I am still unsure about what we are doing. I know i should just let things work themselves out. But I analyze people. Analyze. And I am not sure if we feeling each other out (not literally of course) or becoming friends. who knows.

Anyway, at the mention of Josh and a story he made a face and said 'how'd that go'. I was sort of taken aback, mainly because they are friends but also because I have read Smurf's stories (aloud to Marie and to myself) and needless to say my ears bled. Hardcore.

I told him that I thought the snippet Josh sent me had promise and that I wanted to encourage him to keep playing around with the language. He then asked me how my writing was faring to which I explained that there is an attachment to my work that I am prepared to detach from. That I was a teen who had only one friend to her name. That I was then a college student with only a few more friends to my name and that I wrote (write) to work through things.

He totally disagreed. He thinks that the stories we write don't reveal anything about ourselves. That one can write things that have nothing to do with his or her state of mind or current situation.Wiping grease from my face I mentioned names like Plath, Dylan, Kerouac, Didion, O'Connor. For christ sakes Wright, Morrison, Sexton, Hemingway, Nabokov, Shute, Lowry....

Need I go on.

The mood was sort of perfect and dreamy as we were sitting in the low light of the pizza place talking about stories and writing. We disagreed and contradicted one another and I felt like I was reveling to much and got nervous. I let the nerdiness slip out, I talked about my anxieties, I wanted to touch his mouth.

While he is confidant about his bad stories, I am hesitant about my okay ones. He talks about his ideas with such passion that it's unfortunate that he isn't executing them well.

As for me, my stories are all so personal because i don't talk about myself in real life. They reveal what I struggle to understand about myself. They are intimate and I guess I'm not so ready to be exposed yet.

I did however promise that would write him a poem because he scuffed at the idea that poems can be fantastic (and the fact that he didn't know any of the poets I mentioned was heart breaking) . And like most aspects of my life, I am not able to communicate my thoughts or feelings that well without pen and paper. I find myself wanting to lure Smurfboy in with fancy sentences and paragraphs that don't suck. Is it awful that I find myself more interesting on paper.

I've always had problems verbalizing my ideas and emotions. I get weird and awkward and panicky when I am put in a position where I have to carry a conversation with someone other than people I've known for a long time. So when Matt asked to grab food after work, I immediately thought he wanted to go to the same pizza place and get something to go. I was unprepared for his request to 'sit down and eat' because that is what people do when they grab dinner together. And despite the success of dinner, I still feel like i fumbled about throughout. Still too nervous in my won skin.

I am not good with social clues. I ignore them. A part of my anxiety revolves around this unfounded notion that the thoughts inside my head do not make sense once verbalized. I know this is crazy because in therapy my amazing therapists said I was a natural storyteller and that I am able to explain my ideas with ease and maturity. The truth is I believe that people don't want to hear what I have to say and because of this I do not open up to them (especially men). Sometimes I feel that my ideas and feelings are coded in another language and when I try to explain them people look as if I have just spewed gibberish.

Writing is a way for me to translate things more clearly. Like a foreigner with a heavy accent, I find myself asking for a pen and paper when I have to explain things because what I am thinking may not come out how I want it to so writing becomes my mode of communication. I think that is why I do it. It's to understand and be understood. It's to connect.

Though the conversation was lively during dinner. I still felt all kinds of weird. I struggle with words and wish I could just write him notes. And damn it all to hell if his eyes weren't really really pretty from where I was sitting. And damn it all to hell that I wanted to touch his face.

I think that is enough pinning for one day. I promised myself a solid hour or two of story writing. I also made the mistake of checking out Palo Alto from work the other night, written by James Franco. Yes, that James Franco. It is really terrible. I find myself wondering if he is going to reveal that this writing thing has been a big stunt because if I have to read anymore stories of cliche California teenagers, I think I may vomit.

~Becks

Blue and I

Matt and I had dinner together tonight.

What. The. Fuck.

We worked a mid shift today at Le Sad Store and as we were both leaving (having spent a very exhausting day at work) he asked what I was doing after work.

Because my stomach growled mid sentence I couldn't deny my plans to grab a bite to eat. Just something quick and in the neighborhood.

"I'm kind of hungry too" he says, walking out the same exit I am " Want to grab something together"

After a 15 minute scan of possible places to sit and munch on food, we decide to grab pizza near by.

I tried not to show how nervous I was. He was nice and easy to talk to. We chillaxed with cheap pizza and ramblings about life.

And I think I like it. A little. And by a little I mean a lot.

For Pete Sakes why must I be such a weird girl.

Le Sigh.

Money Woes.

I just spent $476.00 on a train ticket so I can go home for Thanksgiving this year. I can't even begin to explain how much of a dent that has put on my small wallet.

I wasn't even sure I would be able to go home this year. I put in my vacation request 3 weeks ago but Evil Manager never signed off on it. Though I wanted to go home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas...I really only cared about going home for Turkey day.

So on Monday when I walked into work ,still with no word on whether I would get those days off, I approached Evil Manager about the situation. She said that we needed to have a 'talk' later on during my shift regarding the days I wanted off.

A few hours later she took me int her office and said that they were no longer taking requests for the holidays. She went into this very long explanation about retail and the importance of the whole staff being available for the days before and following Thanksgiving and Christmas. But because I am reliable and am easy to work with the managers collectively decided that I would be the only one getting the time off requested for this holiday. I won't be added to the schedule that week, and I am not suppose to tell any of my co-workers about their decision to give me that week off.

Instead of leaving on the Sunday before Thanksgiving though, I now have to leave on Monday because they are going to need me to cover a morning shift. It was the only way they would agree to give me the rest of my vacation time off. Oh, and I can forget about going home for Christmas.

You win some. You lose some.

I bought the tickets today and my mom, of course, was very excited about the news. Hell, I'm excited. I love Turkey Day. I love Thanksgiving food and being around my family. But damn it all to hell if my bank account isn't suffering because of it. In a few months I will have to start paying student loans, which makes me queasy. I have been regularly paying down the lowest of my student loans since February 2009. But the big one won't become an issue until May which in student loan land is just around the corner.

The more and more I think about having to pay back student loans, the more I have to think about the job market and career choices. Which is the last thing I want on my mind. I've hit a creative high that last couple of weeks that I am riding on. I think it's the weather. I am much more a fall, cold weather, warm socks kind of girl than a warm weather, sandals chick. I bought a new writing notebook a few days ago, which I have been filling up with ideas and treatments.

I even went on a photo walk today (because taking photos calm me) where I tried to capture my obsession with light and shadow. I haven't felt this 'inspired' by my surroundings in a very long time and I want to embrace this energy while it last.

I am serious about wanting to utilize the writing scene here.I keep watching all of these shows on creative, funny people who were apart of acting troupes or writing groups who have gone on to create 'funny ass shit'. Case in point: Strangers with Candy. Did you know Stephen Colbert, Amy Sedaris and my favorite, Paul Dinello (swoon worthy) all met via a comedy improv troupe? Yeah, and then they became like a wicked awesome writing team. Creating some hilarious skits for me to watch. Like seriously.

I've been yearning to collaborate with a like minded creative individual(s). I want to sit around and be nerdy and come up with crazy funny, intellectual, subtle humor to present. I know they are out there. Hell, I'm out here.

If I had the funds I would seriously consider taking a short 4-6 week writing class to meet people and geek out. I want to learn the structures of dramatic and comedic writing along with my own interest in novels and short stories formatting.

And I wish I had the money to test all of these creative ventures out (participating in a writing/acting troupe scares and interests me). But alas, right now I not in the position to act on these wants. Even a tentative trip to the Whitney Museum of American Art next Thursday has me worrying about how much it will cost to see an Edward Hopper exhibit.

I hate worrying about money. I hate having to budget around the budget. I would kind of prefer the starving artist thing right now, because at least I would be contributing to my own work. Who needs food anyway. Because in all honesty, outside of this recent burst of creative energy I have spent the last year or so doing everything outside of creating things.

And I sort of want to do that again. Because the last few weeks have been great (well not the worrying about money part) because I have been able to be creative and make things again.

Happenings....

Halloween was very uneventful.

I requested a morning shift on Halloween because I wanted to take my cousin trick or treating. Evil Manager singed off on my request and I went to work all dressed as Amelia Pond from Doctor Who so that I could go directly to my aunts aftewards.

No one knew who I was. I rocked a red wig, a red hoodie and a short black skirt with tights; an exact replica of Amelia's outfit from a Who episode. Everyone however thought I was a hooker. A high class one. Or worse they thought I was just dressed as a girl in a red wig. I got so many compliments on the wig that everyone was oblivious to the Doctor Who homage.

I can't fault anyone though. Outside of two people who watch the show at my job, Doctor Who remains a very British show that a lot of people who aren't a fan of British television watch. If I would have been around a bunch of Who nerds the costume would have been a success.

Once again, donning an outfit that I wouldn't be caught dead in outside of Halloween caused very strange reactions amongst my coworkers. A girl who works in Cafe, who never ever talks to me because she is girly and cool, has suddenly become my friend since. She said I look amazing with long hair and that I need to grow my short hair out 'like now'. It was sort of bizarre.

McAbs was nice and mean to me all at the same time that day. He walked into the break room as I was lounging around and did a double take. The rest of the day he quietly watched me from afar as my very long red hair fell in my face. When he finally decided to come up to me he asked "who the hell are you for Halloween" touching the ends of my 'hair'. I of course had to go over the whole "Amelia pond, she is a character from Doctor Who' thing but he got really angry when I said "it doesn't matter that no one else knows who I am, as long as Toe (my good friend from work who introduced me to Who) does then I don't really care who knows what I am dressed up as'

He then went all guy on me and said "why do you have to bring him up in every conversation. You really like him don't you". Awkward. When I calmly replied that he just so happens to be a good friend of mine, he eyed me up and down and said "yeah sure. I bet" and then stomped off. 15 minutes later he came back to apologize for the gruffness and then spent the rest of the day asking me if I needed anything; water, candy from the break room, a hand with the books in my hand.

Being a girl has it's perks.

When I got off work I dragged my very adorable 'girl skeleton' of a cousin around four neighborhood blocks for trick or treating fun. For a five year old this kid is awesome. She went two hours politely saying "happy Halloween" (and one time 'merry Christmas) to neighbors racking up so much candy that I wanted to kiss her face. We high fived all night and traded candy before I went home to watch The Walking Dead on AMC ( i fell asleep in a pool of candy just when the Deputy Sheriff guy shot half zombie person in the head. I couldn't tell you how the rest of the show went). It was a decent night. Maybe not for an average 24 year old girl living near a huge city. But I'll deal.

Interestingly enough I planned on going to Josh's big Halloween Party on Friday but after he said I had low self esteem I was not all the interested in attending.

Josh has been getting on a lot of people's nerves lately. I like the guy and all but he has this idea that because I don't ramble on about my writing process that I must suck compare to his greatness. And his 'greatness' is not limited to writing. He believes he is the hottest most interesting guy at Le Sad Store and when he got wind that another guy named Josh, who is very hot and nice, was hired he almost made us promise that we would not talk to him because 'there can only be on Josh. And you are looking at him".

Yeah. He's a gem.

Anyway when he announced, a few months back, that he was going to throw the most awesome Halloween Party ever we (by we I mean everyone at work)were sort of still on his team and wanted to attend. Since then though, people have not been feeling his cockiness and on Friday there was still a huge list of people were not sure if they would go at all. Me being one of them.

At first I wanted to go because Matt was going. But my on and off again crush with him was off that night. I just wanted to go home and sleep and dream about pretty things. I did not want to drag myself to a party I wasn't sure anyone was going to attend. And if you are as much of a fan as I am of Flight of The Conchords than you will understand my fear that I would get to his house and there would just be a bunch of dudes in comparison to girls at his house. Too Many Wangs in one room is too much for me. Makes me nervous. Seriously.

The next day at work I asked Matt how the party went and he said 'as well as a party of three people can be'. I. Shit. You. Not. Three people attended Josh's party that night. Three. A costume themed party at that. So that means three people (all of whom were dudes) were sitting around an empty house with a lot of booze dressed in ridiculous costumes.

Me and my low esteem giggled just a little inside when Matt told me this. Just a little.

Matt said Josh was pretty pissed that no one came (he might have punched a wall). Especially because the majority of his invites were to people at work. The whole night was a huge Ego bust which to be honest he needed. I'm sure we won't hear the end of this for a long time. But in all honesty his lack of guests has a lot to do with him.

Anyway

Now that Halloween is over I am back on the train that is work, finding a job and writing. The real world is smacking me in the face bur for some reason I am all to ready to take hold of the next few months. I bought a new notebook yesterday and have been writing up a storm. It's sort of exciting. I am thinking about taking a writing course somewhere. I hate that I live in a huge writing city and I have yet to utilize the community.

I'll have to do some research and see what I can find.

Oh, and because I technically have two blogs (Quiet Girl, memba' her) I've decided to use that blog solely for my picture taking ventures. A photo essay of sorts. I take (and have taken) a bunch of pictures in new york, all of which I can't possibly squeeze into one post. So instead of just letting Quiet Girl sit unwritten in, I've decided to do something with it (and surprisingly there is some traffic there that I was unaware of until tonight). S0 pictures seems the best use of that space.

Time to write for a while and then bed. I've been having some awesome dreams lately. I'm glad I am sleeping better these days.