In Repair.

I returned to work last Saturday (after calling put the day of Marie's memorial)and am now in the mist of holiday shoppers and the suckassness of retail during xmas.




To be honest work, even though i hate it, has been the distraction i need right now. Helping frantic customers, calming down mentally unstable employees and ignoring a certain boy I use to have a crush on, has helped keep my sadness at bay. I am holding up as best as I can after the loss of my best friend. I've had several mini breakdowns at work, gotten into a very regrettable screaming match with Sean (which I will re-tell in detail after Christmas) and wore a skirt the other day (the first time in years) because....I wanted a change.

I've been on auto-pilot these last few days. My emotions are sort of all over the place and to prevent a complete and utter breakdown I, for now, am putting on a very brave face. If you only knew how bad Saturday was, you would understand why this is necessary.


When I say I got into a screaming match with Sean, I really mean, that I was a total and utter bitch to him when he tried to console me about 'the death in my family'. When I walked in on Saturday, everyone knew that I called out because someone very important to me died. No one knew, knows, the extent of the loss but nonetheless I was the topic of much discussion that day. "something is wrong with beckett", "she's not the same" "I wonder what's wrong?"

And I sort of expected this. I am usually very bubbly, affectionate and talkative at work. But Saturday I spent most of the day withdrawn and off to the side. I was polite but distant and my face sort of wore the weight of my depression. A lot of people asked what was wrong and I answered 'i got some bad news from home, but I'm doing okay. I promise". And for some that was enough. For others though, it was sort of a mission to dig the truth out of me and i finally admitted to one co-worker (a friend of sorts) that my best friend, took her life, and that i wasn't holding up well.

After giving me a hug and letting me cry on his shoulder he ran to Sean (who i spent the day avoiding) and told him why I was upset. The moment he found out, he hounded me the rest of my shift. He wanted to pull me in for a hug, and have me talk about what was ailing me, he asked if i was mad at him, and that he wanted to fix whatever was bothering me. Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.

But of course, any attempt for him to console me, was weeks too late. I did come to him when I thought Marie was missing to ask for his advice and he told me to 'do what i did before I knew her". He disregarded my concerns because he didn't know her and doesn't care enough about me as a friend to give a shit about what goes on with me outside of work. He proved then and there that he isn't a true friend of mine or someone I ever want to associate with or come to for anything. And when he was bugging me on Saturday to come to him, I lost it.

I fucking screamed at him (in the receiving part of our store, far far far away from customers). I told him that he couldn't help and that I didn't need him to console me. That i felt like shit and that I did not care to come to him for anything ever. I don't think I have ever been that mad and then mean to someone in my whole entire life. Anger is not a part of who i am, but i must admit that I am full of it these days and i am taking it out on people i tried to confide in who turned me away.

He has never seen that side of me also. And before I could even utter a 'i'm fucking pissed but i didn't mean to blow up at you like that' i heard him walk away. We didn't speak the rest of the day. His face burned read the rest of the shift. I apologized on Sunday, because while grief has brought out anger in me I don't wish to make anyone feel bad. But that doesn't mean I am not disappointed in him or myself for ever wanting him to be something he can't. I still can't get over the fact that I want nothing to do with Sean now. I don't want to talk to him, or hug him or listen to his dumb stories. I want to do what I did before I knew him....I want to exist and go one making connections to people who care about me. And that excludes him.

No one seems to understand that the girl I was before Marie died will never exist again. Sure I will find myself back to the stable happy,bubbly, optimistic girl that I was. That is a given. I will grow older and make friends and be passionate about writing and taking pictures and hugging cute boys. I will exist and go on and cope with my pain because I have people and things to live for. But at the same time, I will feel Marie's absence forever. From time to time I will want to call her and tell her how I am doing. I will want to hear her laugh and recount stories from our youth. I will contemplate why she decided to leave and if there was anything I could have done. But foremost, I will go on living with that constant regret that she isn't here to experience it with me.

Her death has changed me. I feel different. Numb. Broken. Sent out for Repair. I am a walking, talking, seemingly functioning human being who is faking it to the world. I smile and nod and pretend to care because the people around me need me to be the 'former beckett'. The one who hasn't been altered by the death of her friend. They don't need the sad, sullen Beckett. They don't want to know how I am holding up because they know the truth will make them sad too.

And for the most part, putting on the brave face is something I'm okay with doing during this holiday rush. But come Monday I know i will once again be face to face with my own grief and I am terrified by this road to healing. It is necessary but terrifying all the same because I will be left with the 'what happens now' question.

Until then though, Life goes on. I am doing okay, holding up and trying to write as much as I can. A lot of people have stepped up in the friend department and I have been more than grateful for them. I am working tomorrow and Xmas eve and then I am off to my aunts house to spend Christmas with them. Being around my cousin will be good for me. She is darling and inquisitive and made me promise to bake cookies for Santa (i haven't told her yet that i don't know how to bake cookies but we'll figure it out together). She even called yesterday (via begging my aunt) to ask if I was definitely spending Christmas with them. When I said yes, she seemed relieved. Being wanted and needed is comforting, and it is that alone some days that is carrying me through these weeks.

I wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday. I know I've been very depressed lately but your support means a lot. Please enjoy the next few days for me. It will mean the world to me to know that all of you had a very delightful holiday weekend surrounded my friends and family.

~Beckett.

An Unfinished Life.

I made the mistake of going to work yesterday.

I thought after two days of inconsolable crying, insatiable eating and a search for answers regarding Marie's death that I needed to get out of the house. I needed some distraction from the sheer weight of my grief. I spent Wednesday night drafting a letter to her family, explaining how much she meant to me and that I will feel her loss forever. That she will never be replaced but that if I could offer any kind of comfort during this terrible time, I am only a phone call away.


I haven't talked to her family since Tuesday. I want to. I need to. But every time I summon up the courage, I cry. I've cried so much these last few days that I'm getting terrible head pains. I even fucking forgot to eat yesterday. My appetite is endless, I'm compensating I know, but having a full belly is comforting for some reason. My stomach has felt so empty these last few days and food is the only, fleeting, relief. As someone who rarely drinks soda, I have been cradling the bottle (funny, for most people this would be alcohol. me, soda) because the bubbles make me feel full.

Because my appetite has been irregular I can't tell the difference between actual hunger and sorrow hunger (if such a thing exist), and I went the whole day having just consumed two cans of soda and a pretty gross doughnut. I forgot to actually make something for myself to eat. Who forgets to eat. Obviously I am not coping well. I didn't think i'd ever have to go through this form of coping. But I will learn how and it will get easier and I will be strong again. Not today but one day. Until then my appetite is shot to hell.


And I guess this is why I wanted to go to work yesterday. I wanted to attempt get out of bed and away from the hunger and away from the isolation. But I failed miserably.


The moment I walked in everyone knew something was wrong. I carry my emotions on my face and the sadness seeped through. Everyone immediately asked what was wrong: are you pregnant? (I kept clutching my hungry belly, i don't blame this person for asking, though it was not the question i was expecting), Did you break up with your boyfriend? (but i don't have a boyfriend) Did someone beat you up? Did you beat someone up? Can I beat someone up for you? (can you fix a broken heart?purty please).


And this questioning went on my whole shift. My night consisted of 'what's wrong with Beckett' inquiries. I worked, I answered phones, I pretended to be a functioning human being but everyone knew it was all an act. I kept going to the bathroom, every hour it seemed, to cry and would come back with red eyes. My voice quivered a lot. I avoided eye contact. And I fucking forget to eat. I waltz through work like a zombie. I carried Marie in my head and heart all day. I thought about the first time we met (my first day of 7th grade), I thought about prom night and how we attended for two seconds and then got burritos, I thought about how annoying she used to be in movies (she'd talk through the whole damn thing). I thought about our plans for the future which she took to her grave. I thought about my friend, who I'll miss forever.

And while everyone was very concerned for me yesterday they continued (as they should have) to go on with their day. They joked around with one another, made plans for the weekend, complained about life all the while checking in on my every once in a while. And i was jealous and upset and frustrated because just two weeks ago I was one of them, when i didn't know the sheer weight of Marie's hopelessness. What I wouldn't give to be back at the place and time again.

And I am not good with people consoling me. I get terribly emotional and then guilty for burdening them with my ailments. This makes me angry and stubborn. so i push people away who wish to tend to me. I was receptive to some people's attempt of comfort yesterday (i readily accepted hugs and 'i love u, when you are ready to tell me what is wrong, I'm here') but others i refused any sort of comfort from. McAb's mainly.

I unfortunately ran into him just as he (whose real name is Sean) walked in for his shift and the moment he saw me he wanted a hug. But I ignored his request, continued doing what i was doing (looking at the daily assignment sheet) and fought back tears. He called my name again and made a sigh like 'oh you are still being really weird cause you think your friend is missing or some shit'. The sound he made was sheer exasperation, like 'when the hell is she going to get over whatever she is going through'. And grant it save but Blue, no one knows how my search for Marie ended but I didn't want to fucking hug him. I didn't want to be anywhere near him and we he attempted to pull me in for a hug, I nearly became violent.

I don't open up to people much about my life outside of work and I guess my issue and disappointment towards Sean is that when I needed him last week to just listen to my concerns about Marie he told me to 'do what i did before i knew her, move on'. That sentence will play in my mind every time i see him. I know we aren't that close friends, we've rarely hung out outside of work and I couldn't tell you much about his past. I am just one of the many girls he flirts with on a regular basis. I am another chick who helps his ego.

But last week I was looking for a friend in Sean. I put down my own flirty tendencies toward him and simply wanted his opinion. Because I felt Kat was too emotional, and my friend Michelle too unstable. I couldn't go to Blue, then, because he was off working. I went to Sean because he always comes to me for problems and I've been very attentive. And I wanted, needed him, to care enough to listen and be supportive.

And that mother fucker shrugged my concerns off. He didn't know her or didn't care that I thought my best friend was missing (which at the time i thought she was). And when he asked me for a hug yesterday (again in the break room this time), I became so fucking ill. Every bone in my body locked up, i grew rigid and clutched my stomach (which began to hurt) and pulled away from him. But he grabbed my arm anyway (a little to rough for my liking) and asked me what was wrong and that I need to talk to someone about whatever the hell is going on with me, so i pulled away again and backed into a corner and closed my eyes again and told him to go away. "Why won't you talk to me" he kept repeating and all i could do was shake my head. He did leave me alone then, only after someone walked in to the break room for water.

He wouldn't leave me alone after that though. Now sensing that something was wrong, he begged me to talk to him (but i tried and you were no help), that I was being too sad and sullen which was making him miserable (oh, I'm sorry. let me ask you how you are after your best friends shoots herself in her fucking head and leaves a suicide note that resembles a fucking grocery list of what to do once her body after it is found!) that he was there to talk and he would follow me around until i did (can't follow me into the girls bathroom asshole). A part of me wanted to let him know that my gut instinct was right. I wanted to scream and shout at him for being wrong, and for not caring. I wanted to tell him that I KNEW something terrible was wrong with my best friend and I needed him to be some form of support just to make me feel better and he completely disregarded my fears and the thought of him ever touching me again feels like death.

Around 8 o'clock I'd completely lost it. From my frequent bathroom trips where i bawled my eyes out, to dodging concerned co-workers all the while trying to stop myself from vomiting, I called my mom and broke down. I cried loud and hard outside in a corner where no one could see me. I told her that I made a mistake going to work and that I was angry and sad at Marie for what she did and how she felt these last few months. And my mom, who surprisingly kept it together, told me that I have to go through this pain in order to continue living. That maybe I should talk to someone about Marie, about my pain, to take another day to myself to remember her and begin to make peace with life without her.

And the words helped. I cried a little less the rest of the night ( key word: less). Made it through the next two hours of my shift and then cried on the walk home. I never thought I'd join the club of people who'd have to deal with the loss of a loved one by suicide. Especially Marie's. I am literally blindsided by the decision she made to end her life, especially since we spent most of our time talking about the future. About traveling together and meeting boys and settling down and being friends forever. About her being the aunt to my children and the promise she made that if I decided to name my first born daughter Carrick ( i think it's interesting) that she would call her Carrot to taunt me.

This was our year of awesomeness! We talked about getting our acts together and being the secure 20 something year olds ready to take on the world. She wanted to come to New York this summer to visit, I was going to take her to Bleecker Street where all the cute boys roam. I was going to show her a nerdy good time because I knew she needed a nerdy good time.Her act of suicide has all but destroyed those plans and I will forever feel like i am living for two now. I don't know why she thought death was the best alternative. Even when I am in the depths of despair there are things that carry me out of it. My mom, the sound of the wind, sunlight....her. And I can't believe that during her final minutes she couldn't conjure any of that up to stay.

And I am not ashamed of Marie, I am not. But I am struggling to explain her death to people because it was suicide. If she'd die say by cancer or in a car accident or by some crazy homicidal maniac I could place her death on someone else/things shoulder. Instead a part of my grief will forever be marred by anger because she took her life and I am conflicted by feelings of complete and utter grief and anger towards the person i love who decided that that alone wasn't enough to live.

Today is her memorial and I just couldn't make it through work with people asking what was wrong. So I called out and spent the day with my cats. I know the solitude is bad but for today it is necessary. I don't know who I am without Marie. Since I was 12 this girl has been such a huge part of my life. Maybe the problem is that for so long I have felt defined by her existence. She was my voice of reason, my motivator, my link to the past. I told her everything. I shared my ideas with her, I admitted my passions with her and readily ate up her suggestions and critique regarding my writing. Who will understand my lame jokes, who will tease me about liking dudes with square foreheads....who will call my future daughter (years and years from being born) Carrot.


I'm worried that I won't be able to write again (she helped me focus my thoughts). That I won't be able to open up again ( i admitted everything to her). That along with this grief i will carry with me this inability to love anyone as much as I loved her. Because I gave her my all, and that wasn't enough you see.

Despite the friends I have here and the support I am getting from the few people I have let into this personal tragedy no one will ever understand the magnitude of Marie's friendship. She was my soul mate, my kindred spirit and the only person I felt truly connected to. And I'm not saying I won't feel that way again, I'm not saying that independent of her I can't still lead this extraordinary life. I am saying that it will be incredibly hard, and I will miss her dearly and I will continue to try and understand her death even if the clues lead me back to the fact that she depressed and didn't want to handle life anymore.

It's a beautiful day outside, sunny and chilly and the wind is caressing the branches ever so softly and I'll regret that she won't be able to see or find comfort in any of these things anymore. I'm worried that her soul is stuck somewhere and that she hasn't found peace in the afterlife. She didn't believe in god and if he/she does exist that maybe this act does not allow for entry into heaven or the pleasant place in the crevice of the clouds. I'll give up my spot there if that means she can enjoy heaven now.

I want to be the strong one able to deal with this better than I have been but I must admit in these last few days I've wished for someone to help lessen this pain. I feel weak and am achy and numb. I simply want a shoulder to cry on and a hug so tight it eliminates the pain already coursing through me. I have this desire and repulsion to be touched and consoled. I feel out of breath and in need of a respirator and i have spent most of my days in bed, wishing that there was a warm body nearby that i could fold into that would breathe for both of us.

And I apologize in advance for writing so much about the last few days. But the writing helps. Lately it's the only thing helping. It has always been my way to understand what my body can't process. It has been my way, these last few days, of coping. The few people and resources I have sought out to process her death all mention the heartbreak of coping. There is just no choice but to. I have family and friends that I love, I have aspirations and dreams that I want to make reality, and I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and continue living. I have no choice but to cope and continue to learn to cope with her not being here anymore.

Melancholia.

The mornings are the worst.

Because there is always that brief moment when I think the last two days have been one long ass nightmare.

I can't get the voice of her mom outta my head 'i just want my baby back' and I can't help thinking that there was something I could of done.

Despite being her best friend, i've never felt more like a stranger to Marie after her suicide. Sure we talked about depression, sure we talked our feelings of isolation. At one time I was no stranger to suicidal thoughts. Who here can say that they haven't thought about it? But the difference is that I could have never gone through with ending my life because even the pain of living feels nice. Being alive and knowing that things can get better is exhilarating. It feels like a badge of honor to be alive.

My mornings these last few days consist of a lot of crying. My afternoons are spent trying to fill the emptiness in my stomach with food, in hopes that the bottomless pit that once was my stomach will feel less empty with food in it. I escaped my house for a bit yesterday and wandered the streets buying everything that look good. Chicken tenders, a sandwich, chips, soda and candy. I don't eat this much during the week but my stomach just felt so empty to the point of physical pain and cramping. I thought the food would help.

It did not. I cried during the actual consumption. The food look great and was prepared with care but everything tasted bland. I couldn't eat everything, so most of it went into my fridge. I doubt anything will feel or taste that great for the next few weeks.

Every waking thing reminds me of Marie and i seem to only be able to escape her in my dreams, a guarded realm i've had practice protecting. Her memorial is tomorrow and I won't be able to attend, I don't think I could emotionally or mentally do so even if I lived in South Carolina. I feel like I should call her parents again, but I don't have any words of comfort right now. I am a mess and the constant sobbing is making me ill. I constantly feel like throwing up but there is nothing in my stomach, so my throat and belly just ache with a weird numbness.

I've only told a few people about Marie's death. My mom, who needed to know, and Blue because he called and asked what was going on in my life lately. And I just sobbed and told him and I didn't feel any better, just less burdened by sharing the news to someone else. He was a brief source of comfort, but he didn't know her and could not grasp the extent of our friendship fully. I realized I just wanted a shoulder to cry on, to be weak and helpless, for someone to say they would take care of the pain for me.

Devastated and Disappointed is what my grief feels like these days. She was my best friend. Every memory I have from my teenage years revolves her. The last three years (up until 5 months ago) we talked too each other every day. I have her laugh embedded in my head, every plan we made for the future, feels achievable until I remember she is no longer here. She was always the stronger of the two. More assertive and smart and strong willed. I always let her take the reigns because she was my protector.

And i can't get over the fact (from the conversation I have had with her mom, stepfather and friend from work) that she was truly miserable at home and in North Carolina. The loss of her job sent Marie into the deep depths of depression and misery. She took her life in the middle of the night alone and ashamed. She was found with her cell phone, which she spent the last few minutes erasing every contact from her life. She left a note for her mom and step-dad, saying she was sorry and to call 9-1-1. She also gave directions on how to handle her body and what to do with her remains.

Even in death she needed to be in charge. She needed to have control.

The thing that goes through my head is how lonely she must have felt those last few seconds. And I don't think i'll ever forgive myself for not being more aware of her sadness. While she was withering away emotionally in south carolina, I was much more concerned with the happiness that was occurring in my life. The way things seemed to be falling into place lately. I spent the last 5 months making bonds, growing stronger in my own skin, and finding peace with my imperfections. And my best friend was in another mental state altogether.

I am depressed and sad and fucking angry at everything. I want my best friend back. I want to tell ask her why the good in her life wasn't good enough for her to stay. She had a family, a nephew who idolized her and a mother who was proud of her and best friend who wanted to see the world with her and she couldn't hang on for that. That's where the disappointment lies, because Marie knew how crappy things were. She knew that she wasn't normal by any standards. She was complicated and interesting and unique and it isn't easy being all those things in a world where average wins all the time. And our life together, revolved around proving that atypical was beautiful.

Her death makes that sentiment feel like a lie.

Her death makes me feel like a long standing truth has been shattered.

I miss her terribly. I don't know who I am without her. And I wish she would have come to me. I wish we could have at least had one last conversation before she died.

I would like to thank everyone who has reached out to me these last few days. Your support and general concern has made things....better. I am holding up (i promise). Therapy taught me how to cope with things and more than ever the lessons i learned there are helping me get through this.

But I am numb and quite despondent and am struggling too find much comfort in anything outside of bed. I was going to take the next two days off, but I know if I stay in the house her loss will eat me alive. I can't believe she's gone. It's surreal.

A Permanent Loss.

Marie committed suicide last night.

Her mom called today to let me know.

Five months after being fired from her job, leaving North Carolina and returning home to live with her parents her inability to cope with any sort of 'failure' or 'rejection' drove her to take her life.

I am inconsolable. and heartbroken.

my best friend is dead. I didn't reach her in time.

My Day in A Nutshell Part 2

McAbs: Please be okay again.

Me: I'm trying. But I don't know how.

Don't You, Forget About Me.

The last few days have been shit. Seriously.

Ever since I've found out this information about Marie: she left her job, moved back home, possibly does not want to be found; I have been in a terrible, terrible mood. No lie. And no one in my life has been helpful to assuage my fears that a) she wants to be left alone forever or b) we won't get into that possibility (which after some consideration, i think is pretty unlikely).

But option A has to mean that whatever it is that has happened to her is bad enough that she felt she couldn't come to me to talk about it. That five months later, she still can't come to me to talk about it. And I completely understand this because when my nephew died back in 2008, i didn't answer Marie's repeated phone calls for months. The text she sent went unanswered. I deleted her voice mails. And was an invisible friend for that one dreadful summer.

But she continued to hound me. Even when I didn't feel like talking because that's what our friendship is like (or what I think it is like). She never gave up looking for me and wondering what was wrong.And explaining our friendship to people who have never meet her is strange. Because despite our personality differences, we compliment one another. Where she is strong, assertive and logical I am sensitive, accomdating and driven by my heart. She's my voice of reason and I am her voice of compassion.

And I've known her since I was 12! I knew her when she had braces and big unruly hair. She knew me when I had chubby cheeks and wore that ugly blue jacket to school for a month. We've talked frequently about our issues with abandonment and trusting people. I've admitted my issues with commitment and boys. We are fearful that people will leave us or find something better. We have been a 'we' since my first day at middle school when she was the only one to ask me my name. And despite what anyone says, it's extremely weird (fine unusual) for me to hear absolutely nothing from her.

And the whole situation is bothersome now because I simply thought she was mad at me. I thought 'hey, she doesn't want to talk to me....that's cool' and that might still be the case. But for her to leave her job, move back home with her sister and mom who she is not close too at all....is just bizarre.

And what's worse is that no one currently is concerned about her 'disappearance' except me. My mom literally became angry with me over the phone because I was concerned. The words 'just let it go and move on ' actually came out of her mouth. So i sulked and ignored her phone calls for a day (but had to call today to ask for money. being broke sucks). So i went to McAbs, because well he's been doing well in my book lately and I needed a voice of reason to calm me down. assuage my fears. maybe even pull me in for a 'it's going to be okay hug'. Instead the motherfucker shrugged his shoulders, told me 'sucks for you' and then said 'what did you do before you knew her....okay, well do that'.

Are you serious?!

What happened to the comforting words. What happened to caring just for a moment about someone I care about instead of wanting to talk about stupid crap. And yeah, i didn't expect him to have the answers (hell, he doesn't know her) but I wanted him to, just for a moment anyway. And it wasn't just McAbs, the few people I told were all 'eh, so what. i mean get over it' and this is tearing me up. It's eating me alive. People are much more concerned about why I'm not smiling and joking around and making sure that they are okay rather than understanding why i am utterly distraught about this.

Now that I know that she isn't just in North Carolina ignoring me because I've said something dumb, I am concerned and scared and completely mad at myself for letting the silence go on for this long. I just figured we were taking a friend break, that we'd return as we always do back to normal. But someone disappearing from your life is almost like a death because there are times when I want to tell her something, that I can't tell anyone else, but I don't have her to go to. I have no way of contacting her: calling her, writing her, emailing her. I have no way of checking in to ask whats wrong.

And dammit, I don't care if she doesn't want to be found. Because you know what, if i suddenly went away, I'd want someone to hunt me down. Because there is always a part of you that wants someone to search for you. To have someone, even if it is just one person, who will search for you regardless.

And the last few days I have been walking around in a fog. I don't know what to do. Everyone wants me to put this recent piece of information behind me. Forget about her. She'll get in touch when she wants to. Everyone wants me to put the smile back on my face, laugh it up and stop overreacting. McAbs became livid with me today because I was pissy with him. He asked what was wrong (ugh, didn't we attempt this yesterday) and I told him that 'i needed [his] advice yesterday and instead he shut me down'. We spent the rest of the shift arguing like crazy. I never want to do that again.

I feel alone. If that makes sense. I was shelving the dumb magnetic quotes today and one by Judy Blume (maybe) about friendship and how friends are these people who keep and cherish because they are a link to our past and how much progress we have made. And maybe this is the terrifying part because Marie is the only link to my past. She was with me during the awkward teen years, she was there with me during the hell that was college, and she has been there for me now as I finally seem to be putting things together. She is my kindred spirit. I've talked to her about things that I have never gone to anyone else about (except maybe my therapist). And vice versa. We come from very similar family backgrounds (absent fathers, complicated siblings, overwhelmed mothers) and found solace in being misfits together.

And hell, our friendship wasn't perfect. It wasn't near perfect but the thought of something being wrong with her and me not being able to do anything, even wish her well...is unbearable. And I absolutely hate that everyone here needs me to be happy go lucky beckett. They need me to smile and nod and pay attention and listen to their problems and forget about my own. They need me to push past this feeling of loss (even if a temporary one) because it brings them down.

But I can't help but remind them, that if I one day, up and decided to disappear, I would still want someone to look for me. I'd still want someone to give a damn about my well being to make sure if I was okay. I don't understand why this is so hard for people to understand.

Of course now I have no idea what to do. Outside of the work friend I got in touch with, I have no other leads in order to track Marie down. And a part of me feels like I might have to wait for her to get in contact with me. Which is something I am not totally comfortable doing (especially as it feels too close to a few recommendation to 'forget about her').

But I know that I can't go around being frustrated and sullen because of this. I am wearing the sadness on my face and the longer I remain in this state thet harder it will be for me to get our of out. I physically cannot put my life on hold because it will stunt me. I know this. The obsessive thoughts will stall me and push people away and I am not that close to my current or circle of friends to expect them to wait for me to escape this despair.

But at the same time, I've never felt more at a loss about a situation. What I want to do and what I have to do are butting heads. And the one person I could use some advice from is the one person I can't find to ask it of.

Missing Person.

Marie has gone missing....literally.

After five months of silence: no phone calls, no texts about boys and Kitchen Nightmares, I push past my fears that Marie just no longer wanted to be friends (hence the silence treatment) and reached out to her on her birthday. It's her favorite holiday, more so than Christmas and thanksgiving.

Even when we are mad and livid at each other, our birthdays are a big deal. We celebrate for weeks leading up to it and send texts back and forth reminding one another, as if we'd forget, of the impending day. But with no word from her since July, I was starting to think something was up. September came and week, October flew by, and come November (after a few 'hey where the hell are you texts) when she had not called to ask if we could meet up for Thanksgiving back home, as we sometimes do, i began to worry more.

And then Tuesday, December the 6th, came around. Marie's 26th birthday. The only day of the year where she is completely and unabashedly proud of being a nuisance and making sure everyone knows it hers birthday....there was nothing but silence from her end. I sent her five or six texts that day. I rehearsed my 'you know friends don't treat friends like this' speech, I even then prepared my apology speech for the reprimanding one. But only silence. Complete and utter Silence.

I never thought Silence could feel so....empty. I usually prefer it.

By midnight I was freaking out. Because I am often a selfish, selfish girl I assumed her lack of response to my calls had something to do with her being mad at me. I mean I did call the dude she was interested in (the married one) an old, balding, hefty fellow. I do have a tendency of talking about myself (and personal problems a lot), maybe it's me. But after the awkwardness that was (is) no word from her, I started to think maybe it's her. Maybe she is in trouble or hurt or in a jam. Maybe, jesus christ, I don't want to assume it is anything worse...

So I finally called her, after a six week break from dialing her number, and for fucks sake her phone is no longer in service. I got a freaking 'this number is no longer active, if you feel this is an error please hang up and try again" recording. So I did, for an hour straight. To hear the same damn message over and over again.

Marie doesn't have a facebook account, she doesn't believe in any sort of social networking pages and I am her only friend from high school and college. I am her closest friend (i think) and she has all but disappeared from Earth. I spent the next couple of hours searching through news archives from her town to see if, snerk gerks, anything terrible had happened. But she may be the only person in the world whose name does not pop up in our info age. I searched for any clue to her absence: an accident, missing persons report SOMETHING. And nothing popped up in any of the local feeds. I then tried to reach her work email, which too has been erased.

In a panic, I called the extension to her job that she gave me a few years back, and the phone just continued to ring for a solid minute! This is fucking terrifying people. What happens if something terrible has happened to her and I have been completely absorbed in my own....issues...to pay attention to the clues.

Last night, as a last ditch effort, I reached out to the married guy I thought she was hooking up with (he sent me a facebook message once because Marie said he would never be able to find me on facebook) in hopes that he would have some information. A few hours later, I received a message saying he too had not heard from Marie in a few months and was going to contact me to see if I had her mom or sisters number. Or you freaking serious?!

I've been in conact with him since yesterday and the things I have learned about the last few months are unreal: she left her job in July and moved back home sometime in September to live with her mom and sister, she was having uber issues where she was, and the two of us are her only contact...in the WORLD.

He called just a few minutes ago (but left a voicemail) because he said the email message I sent last night (about the last few convo's i had with her in July) had him questing how much I knew about Marie's life in North Carolina. That there are some things she obviously left out during our conversations about Kitchen Nightmares. I am confused, and terrified and scared. I feel like I am either looking for a person who doesn't want to be found or worse....a ghost.

I am seriously in a state of shock and disbelief. I wont/ can't allow myself to think beyond trying to find what the hell happened to her and where she could have gone. I am a little hesitant to talk to her last contact in North Carolina for fear of revealing and finding out too much about Marie's life there. But at the same time, not knowing if she is okay, alive and doing well is the worst feeling in the world.

I don't know what to do. I never thought I'd be in a position where I'd have to consider the next steps to take in finding a person who has suddenly...gone missing.

Today in a Nutshell

Blue and I are mending our friendship after a few bumps in the road (me calling him out on his bullshit) a few months ago. It was a brutal, brutal ordeal and I don't think I've ever been madder.

So when he invited me on a mini adventure to an old abandoned quarry, I applauded him for reaching out to me and appealing to two of my favorite things : taking pictures and old abandoned things.

And the trip was pretty amazing. The old camp ground was uber spooky and desolate and dead save for a few acres of land preserved by the county. We stumbled on abandoned cars and an old tennis court and even climbed a few fences!

Afterwards, we grabbed beer and brunch at a pub (because climbing fences, rocks and other such shrubbery works up an appetite) and by gawd, I actually found a beer that i like. It's sweet and awesome and had me dancing in my seat, partially from impending drunkassness, but nonetheless yum.

And I had the best french toast in the whole wide world! Suggested to me by a very nice bartender whose name I can't remember.

And then I was offered a complimentary drink and all went to hell, because the last one always seems to do me in. I dragged Blue to the mall and the library afterwards in search for gloves and a book about birds. He didn't mind though.

I really, really, really had a great time today. I am obsessed with trying to establish a life in New York with solid friends , a job that I like (still working on that) and activities that inspire me to create art I am proud of. And so far, I've been doing an okay job of this. It has forced me to come out of my shell and put myself out there to achieve this and every adventure is one more affirmation that things are going to be okay for me. That my life is getting better. I can't explain how comforting that is.

Anyway, I should probably get some sleep. My head feels so heavy and in the morning I hope to have a brilliant story idea inspired my our hike today.

~Beckett

Back to the Grind.

Thanksgiving was amazing, per usual.

I ate way too much. Spent most of my days playing Just Dance 3 on the Wii. And slept a lot.

I arrived back in New York yesterday to my hectic, hectic, complicated life and am sort of feeling homesick today. There was something so peaceful about being home and having to worry about little.

Outside of that, I am terribly excited to be back. Of course I had a few revelations while home: about the past, about myself and the future, and am ready to make some concrete plans about my next move in the job, writing and life department.

But of course, I have to go to work now, so I won't be able to write about it until later. I did not miss Le Sad Store while I was away, I dread going to work today. I'm prepared to give customers the stank eye all day.

Until Later

Beckett

Falling into Place.

After four hours spent building a desk that should have taken a total of 30 minutes to put together....I now have a functioning, though semi wobbly desk in my room. And it has made a world of difference. I haven't had a desk in a room, since college and not writing in bed feels good.





Of course, the 'whole putting the thing together' ordeal was brutal. I'm awful with tools and decided two hours into my 'why the fuck are there so many screws for such a small desk...and what is this metal thing...a shelf, the back...i'm losing it" rant, to call McAbs back to put the thing together (lets be honest, I kind of just wanted him in my house again. It felt nice). But I didn't, for several reasons, and instead called Cool Ass Dude (who was the previous owner) so he could walk me through the building process. Despite having four screws left over, the desk is at least upright! So yay, me.



I was a little hesistant that having a desk in my room would take up a lot of space but it fits so nicely in the corner, I'm not sure how i've gone this long without one. The new addition is a small accomplishment that I am pretty proud of. I mean the amount of writing alone, i've gotten down since Saturday can vouche for this.





In other news, I am going home this Saturday for Thanksgiving. The managers put a hault on anyone requesting the holidays off, but I sort of stomped into the office and told the store manager that I'd already purchased tickets to go home and that Thanksgiving is the only holiday I am able to go home for. She said it was okay, this time, but next year (like that's gonna happen) I won't be allowed to request Thanksgiving week off. I'm working on not being their next thanksgiving so i'm sure this wont be a problem.





Of course, I am very excited to be heading home. I need a break from my new york life and everything around me. I'd like to go home, relax, spend time with my family and come up with a game plan as to what I need to do in the next few months to change my current situation. I hate that my life sounds like a record on repeat, but I need a new job, I need to meet people, i'd even like to try the dating (because having a uber crush on McAbs is not healthy; despite how tenderly he treated the things and people in my home. I hate that he has a girlfriend).



My home life is falling into place, i like my friends and my growing photography hobby. I like my morning routines, and wriitng late at night. I like a lot of things about my life currently, but I know that I desire more stability in areas that I am going to have to work my butt off to attain. Which i'm willing to do, after my small break from it all in South Carolina with my family.

'Not Without Your Permission'

So apparently I find these four words very attractive when said from the mouths of cute boys. Seriously.

A week ago, Cool Ass Dude from Work, said he was getting a new desk and was going to have to put his old one in storage unless he could find someone to take it off his hands. Despite my initial fears of collecting a lot of things, when he said this, I immediately said "I'll take it, I've been wanting a desk in my room for a while now'. I am pretty comfortable with my living situation and until I get a job in the city (where living closer will be both cheaper and lighter on the travel thing) I have every intention of remaining at my current place for at least another year.

And because my brain and heart knows this, I want to decorate and personalize my room as much as possible. I want to bring a sense of calm and comfort to my home away from home and a desk is just the touch I need in my space. Because I really miss having a desk; having one has always made me feel more productive, cause lets be honest when I use my computer in bed i get little to no work done. I play the sims, watch videos on youtube and surf the net for things like 'scottish slang', no lie.

So we agreed that as long as I could find a way to get it to my place the desk was mine. And luckily I know a lot of people with cars and convincing them ( 'I'll buy you pizza) was easy. Cool Ass Dude dismantled the desk on Wednesday and McAbs (who he is pretty good friends with) brought it in his car today during the mandatory 8 o'clock store meeting we seem to have every year (it was BS, we all looked so rough the rest of the day). Of course when McAbs told me he had my new desk in his car to take back to my house I was a) excited ya'll and b) anxious.

McAbs, in my house, in my bedroom, near my personal items. Oh, hell no.

My relationship with McAbs has evolved into a decent friendship since Summer. He still has a girlfriend and I'm still not a scandalous whore so we remain friends, with the sexual tension of Mulder and Scully (Bones and Booth pre this season) looming overhead, who joke around, flirt and bicker. No one seems to get why we get along. Kat shakes her head at us two a lot, as if she is exasperated with the amount of back and forth banter we have. But generally I like McAbs. So he can be a totaly douche sometimes, so he talks about SEX a lot but...we get along, and we have each others back and he buys me lunch sometimes. It's fun having him around. I treat him like my platonic work boyfriend who I can come to when customers and driving me crazy and I just need someone to talk to.

But this is not to say that being platonic friends with him is easy. Because it isn't all the time. There are some days when the boundaries seem to blur and we have to pull away to remember that he has a girlfriend and I am not a boyfriend stealer. We have never (ever) gone beyond hugging and an occasional kiss on the check but even that seems wrong and we both regret it afterwards.

So when he said that he would drive me home after the two hour meeting to drop the desk off, I sort of freaked internally. My room is my sanctuary. It is my solace away from the world, I rarely invite people over because I feel like my space my divine space that cannot be corrupted by another person (outside of family; including the people i live with, they are simply amazing). And inviting McAbs into my space, seemed almost too personal. Having him close to my bed, and my books, and my dumb writings seemed...invasive. Because He is so masculine and often brutish and crude and I imagine things crumbling around him if he were to enter my room (wow this all sounds very sexual, i apologize).

But I really wanted that damn desk. Cool Ass Dude sent me a picture when he first mentioned he wanted to give it away, and I already picked out a spot in my room to place it. And McAbs schedule rarely coincides with mine, so I wasn't sure he would be able to bring it any other day. I was actually shocked when he said he'd brought it all because he made such a stink about the desk possibly messing up his car. So with a willing McAbs available to do all the grunt work, I put my fears aside and said 'yeah, sure we'll totally bring it to my house". With a few rules:

Because my landlady and daughter and older son (who doesn't live here) usually have Saturday breakfast together, McAbs would have to bring the desk upstairs and then, using my exact words, 'get the fuck out my house'. My landlady is sorta religious and her daughter is only ten, so i didn't want to give them the impression that I was bringing a boy over to do....adult things. And McAbs was cool with this, cause he was being lazy and didn't want to put the desk together anyway.

When we get to my house we've already established a game plan. I'll grab the detached desk legs and he'll grab the desk top and back. We'll make our way, quickly, upstairs as to avoid weirdness and then he'll 'drop that shit and go". Right.

Of course the moment we open the door those plans are all but shot to hell. Nicole, landladys 10 year old daughter, hearing my voice from inside the foyer is waiting at the door with the cats, our new puppy, and a shocked expression on her face at the sight of me....with a boy. I introduce McAbs to a now smiling Nicole (who is giving me the 'who is this' face) and am a little shocked by how comfortable, sweet and charming he is to her. The dog, who is now loose, runs into the foyer to smell McAbs who is struggling to hold up the desk but manages to pet the dog until he runs back to Nicole.

Nicole is talking to McAbs a mile a minute, introducing the dog, and herself again, and giving me a 'seriously who is this' face. But he remains, very friendly, and approachable and I am taken aback by this side of McAbs. After a few more exchanges between Nicole, I begin to make my way upstairs, once I realize our plan is getting all screwy, but McAbs does not follow. He is still in the foyer, nodding at something Nicole is saying and nudging the dog with his shoes (which the dog loves)

Me: "Hey why aren't you following"
McAbs: You haven't asked me in yet?
Me: [longest. pause. ever] When did you become a vampire.
McAbs: Who do you think I am, walking into a house without being asked. I need your permission first. I can't come in without your permission.

I am a little stunned by this. This is a dude who has openly talked to me about everything under the sun. This is a guy who I often have to say 'I think that's enough information'. This is a dude who expresses little to no interest in boundaries. And yet, there he was in my foyer, unflinching, unmoving, until I invited him in. I couldn't believe it, so much that, I walked back down the stair and gave him a 'are you kidding look' but he wasn't, and the desk was visibly heavy and he wouldn't budge. not until i permitted him.

Me [heart. slowing. beating]: Fine. You have my permission.

And it was like the veil that was preventing him from entering had been lifted and he crossed the doorway into my house, taking care to wipe his feet.

Oh. My. Word. I think I literally may have, briefly, falling stupidly in love with his comment. Who, asks permission to enter someones house. And yeah, he may have just done so because Nicole was there and he didn't want to barge in, but it was terribly sweet. Terribly.

When I was in therapy, I describe anxiety as a house. A big beautiful house that, of course, I didn't allow any visitors inside. It was a guarded, fenced off, escape for me that fed into my own fears about myself and my placement in the world. And while I feel less anxious and depressed than I did in college, those aspects of my being will never go away. I remember telling my therapist that only few people were allowed into the house of anxiety, that I rarely invited visitors in. And it had/has much to do with a fear that they would trample on all the delicate possessions that I stored within the walls.

So when McAbs asked for my permission to enter my safe, guarded, house (without any previous knowledge of my anxiety)....my escape from the world...it was like a promise that he would leave it just as he entered it. That he'd just stay for as long as I allowed and then go when it was time.

And he did exactly that. We brought the desk pieces to my door, where he laid them gently in front of my locked door and then asked if there was anything else I needed him to do. Of course, I said no, (nicole was still waiting on the stairs, peeking up at us two) and I walked him to his car, after he said goodbye to everyone (including the damn dog).

And I know, I know, I know that it's wrong to think of McAbs this way...but goddamn he was such a sweet, sweet boy today. And I felt so safe having him in my house, with my things, that he tenderly made sure not to destroy.

I'm such a sucker for dumb, nice things, boys do for me. And despite what anyone says about the nature of our relationship, and how odd the two of us are together, I can't help but respect that he respect my personal space. That literally, he took the time to explore swiftly yet delicately my guarded surroundings only after being permitted to do so.

Private Icon:

Kat and I are obsessed with this magazine called Nylon. It's sort of a fashion, music, design/art nylon heavy on crazy layouts and all things interesting and independent.

I am not a fan of woman magazines. From Cosmo to InStyle, Vogue to Lucky the articles in women magazine cannot compete with some of the gems I have read in say, GQ and details. While men magazines (that do not fall into the skin category) are filled with not only well dressed men but articles about pop culture and current events that i want to read over and over again. I mean how many 'how to please your man' articles can you read in Cosmo before you realize that they are recycling the same articles every few months.

I picked up Nylon, unfortunately located near Seventeen magazine, because they were doing a Horror issue (scream 4 had just come up and they were featuring the new cast) and ever since then I have eagerly awaited my new issue every month.

Nylon does this interesting piece called Private Icon, which features characters from books, TV and/ or movies/movies whose style has influenced or could influenced the fashionata in all of us. And they haven't gone the cliche route. They profiled Judy Funnie from Doug, Lux Lisbon from the Virgin Suicides and recently Winona Ryder from Heathers, Beetlejuice and Reality Bites. Using clothes that defined their characters, cosmetic accessories or other key items there character would most likely wear in the 'real world' the layout has come to be my favorite piece from Nylon.

Recently after coming across their Private Icon page featuring Charlize Theron from Cider House Rules, Kat and I thought it'd be fun to do make our own layouts...based on our own individual style. Immediately I jumped at the mini art project. I've been slacking the creativity these last few weeks despite 'James Franco' and I's countless conversations about art and inspiration (why can't he be 25) and this served as a quick creative thing i could do to remind myself that I am...well creative.And this project was simple enough. I didn't need much outside of my personal items and a camera to take the pic. And while my simple attempt looks nothing like the professionalism of the Nylon spread I am quite smitten with the results. It's me in a nutshell. Nerdy and Sweet.

Lately I've been enjoying my New York life more than usual. I continue to feel overwhelmed and stressed about things but my friends are making everything more bearable and I am convinced that the life I want here can exist. I recently found out that a boy i had a crush on in college (i think I referred to him as Music guy) is living in Brooklyn, dating boys (not all that shocking to be honest) and attendingNYU. NYU people!!! And instead of being jealous and all 'wtf" I couldn't help but realize I too can have the experience and success here if I just put myself out there a little more.

I'm going to have to sit down soon and compile a list, draft a layout perhaps for my future plans. I have put the job search on hold until after the holidays because I'd really like to go home for Thanksgiving and couldn't imagine starting a new job right before then. But this means that I have at least two weeks to come up with a game plan to shake things up a bit in my life. I feel like I can do this.

And and in totally unrelated news, I'm finally getting a damn desk in my room. After mulling over the idea of having any more furniture in my room, John (cool ass dude from work) said he had a small computer desk he was getting rid of this week and I could have it if I wanted (for free!). After discussing how and when we would get it to my house, because we both don't have cars, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who offered their car services as long as a) pizza was provided and b) I promised no scratches would be made to their shit cars.

Hooray for new furniture!

A Brief Interlude.

Even with this extra hour, there clearly are not enough hours in the day for me to get anything done.

Unfortunately the snow did little in the 'pick me up department' to well, lift me spirits. While I spent the better part of the snowstorm under the covers with my remote controller near by (a perfect day in my book), I am still lethargic and dragging by these days.

I wouldn't go as far as to say I am depressed. Emotionally drained, yes. Mentally spent, probably. Tired, overworked, and a little stressed and ready for a small break from it all, definitely.

The last few weeks have been so weird. I feel completely run downed and a little outside of myself. Suddenly things that had little concrete interest to me; relationships with boys, money (and how I can make more of it), building solid friendships with people and a desire to wear dresses and nail polish, are pushing their way to the forefront of my mind. And I am completely ambivalent about all of this.

I love the word ambivalence, because up until I saw Girl Interrupted I'd misused the word to describe my nonchalance about things. But Ambivalence, as Susanna Kaysen doctor points out, is about conflict, opposing feelings towards something or one, some event or situation. And I must say I am feeling a lot of ambivalence lately about everything.

While I am madly, deeply attracted to 'James Franco' it is sometimes hard talking to him because at 20, he has not yet been jaded by experience. He has several tattoos; one on his arm, one near his heart, an idea to get one on his side about optimism and living life to the fullest. Which I totally get and appreciate. But there is something about being 20 that makes you feel like you conquer the world. Hell at 20, even with all the anxiety and depression, I was convinced that I too would one day take the world by storm.

But our age gap is making me realize a lot more about myself than I would like to admit. Of course, like 'James Franco" I still maintain that I will conquer the world with my sheer awesomeness, i'm a little more practical about how I want to go about doing this. I realize now at 25 that I have to work to be the person I want to be. And that even applies to creating my own version of happiness. And who knew that my wants and aspirations would look so different from what I want now. And I am sort of conflicted about it all. Like how do I handle all these new things that I suddenly want as a person in her mid 20's.

I no longer want to do some of the things I thought I wanted at 20. I am not so much looking to run away from my problems. Hell, I still want to move to England. I still want to travel and write extensively, but I know now that that takes a lot more than looking through travel books and mentally booking tickets at night. I know that everything, is more of an orchestrated ordeal rather than a 'spantaneous happenstance'.

Moreso, I crave stability on a both an internal and external level now that I actually enjoy planning things about with concrete goals. I want to be comfortable in my own skin along with being able to support myself as a something 20. And that includes having a stable, non retail related job. That includes figuring out what I want to do with myself and who I want to be. And sure I don't have it all figured out, but everyday I am learning what I like and what I don't like in order to concentrate my energy.

And oh, and I'd also like to date and have a boy that is mine and mine alone. I'd like to create and write things I am proud of, I'd like weekends off to shop for groceries and check out library books. I'd like to have friends and not worry so much about getting to close.

And more and more these wants are reminders of where my life is going and what I am, in a way, leaving behind to make room for all the new things. And I am not sure if I am completely okay with this. I am fearful and worried and wanting to fall back on the my damaged safety net in order to escape having to deal with my opposing feelings about where I came from (shy, introverted, anxious gal) to where I want to be (introspective, confidant, funny gal).

Case in point: Relationships. All of a sudden, i am all 'I'd really like a boyfriend', 'I'd really like someone to have around'. And unlike college, where no boys, ever showed an interest in me ever, I am suddenly surrounded by single guys, some of whom I wouldn't actually mind dating. And I have no idea how to go about doing this.

"James Franco" aside, because he is truly truly to young and literally said "I'd like to hang out with John (a cool ass employee) but I'd don't think he'd take kindly to my self-indulgence and all about me conversation', there are some actual contenders in the boy department. Some interesting, silly and dumb, dateable guys who'd I'd like to hang out with and get to know. And it is weird suddenly wanting this form of intimacy ( a closeness with someone on an emotional level ) that use to scare the crap out of me. That use to cause me to freak the hell out.

In fact, everything current life change feels strange and new to me. Like who the hell is this girl with my face and voice and plaid t-shirt, wanting everything I use to want (to travel, to write, to be understood) suddenly also wanting a place of her own (while I love, love, love my current living situation, I know in a year or two I would like to be able to afford my own studio apartment), a boy to cuddle with and friends to hang out with on the weekends. Who is this girl, who bears my resemblance yet whose desires are strange and new.

And the answer is it's me of course. It's always been me but like an awakening the image that I have for my life is just coming into view and I'd like it to to be a tangible thing to have, if I can just push past the fear and trepidation of really, deep down inside, of wanting to belong to something finally. Of wanting to have a life for myself that is completely, independently my own.

Snow Day!!!

In October, of all months. I'll take it.

I was expecting only a few flurries today, not the few inches of snow that has ended up on the ground.

It's been snowing on and off since 11am this morning and I must say I am very content with lounging in bed today (Le Sad Store actually closed early today. 5pm to be exact!), drinking hot chocolate and watching a very dumb movie on Liftetime.

I've not been in the mood to do much of anything lately (including writing) and the storm may be the pick me up I need to get me in better spirits. Do you ever feel immobilized by your own....indecisiveness. I feel like I am in a stalemate of sorts and it's not that I am stuck just simply taking at break at the crossroads because doing anything but remaining still hurts.

I haven't heard anything back about the job I applied for two weeks ago. And while I know the smart thing to do would be to send someone an email this Monday to inquire about the position, I don't feel up to it. I am simply wiped out from the job hunting process and I need a small break from trying to sell myself. Just until Thanksgiving has passed.

And for some reason, despite my utterly crappy week, with crappy news (the only sane manager left at Le Sad Store is leaving in a week) and crappy insane feelings for a soon to be 20 year old James Franco look-a-like (we talked about story writing this Tuesday, not because he is interested in writing, but because he is interested in me as a writer. Where did this kid come from? My inner, most, deepest dreams); the snow, which has a way of demanding that you pay it full attention, has been a nice distraction.

It has forced me to remain inside, clear my head, and watch the ground disappear underneath a cloth of fluffy snow.

And for some reason, even if it's just for a minute, the sight has made a world of difference.

Jan Brady Complex

The past week has been an emotional roller coaster and I don't think I have cried this much in a very long time.

Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the current job situation. I am still waiting to hear back from the publishing company and due to my travel plans for Thanksgiving, I would prefer to start a job or continue my job search after November (especially because this year the managers made a real stink about me requesting turkey day off, and I don't think starting a new job will allow me time to go home).

Instead I am stressed about about people and life and wants and desires and general anxieties about myself. I feel as if I am being pulling in a million and one directions from the people around me and I don't know how to reconcile any of this. I recently got into an argument with Kat because she sent me a text Blue Matt sent her a week ago. With his new job, Blue is only able to hang out with anyone after 6pm on the weekday and on the weekends. He has been trying to get us all to go on a group trip to the city; to check out some museums, grab some grub and take pictures.

We were all suppose to (Kat, Blue and I) go to the city next Sunday and possibly ride bikes in central park and then grab hamburger but Blue was starting to get concerned that Kat, who he has a huge crush on, would bail like she has done so many times before. So he sent her a text (or two or five) begging her not to bail because "I like Beckett and all but this is suppose to be a group thing, and it would be really weird just going with her' or something like this.

For the life of me I cannot understand why Kat would send me this text; a text, that I of course took to mean that Matt doesn't want to hang out with me alone (like he does with Kat). While, I know the text between him and Kat was private and he wasn't trying to put me down in some way (by saying he didn't want to hang out with me alone), it was sort of devastating.

When I look at the relationship Blue has with Kat, I can't help but feel envious. Not because I LIKE Blue in any way, shape or form, but because he treats her like a friend he wants to be seen with (or eventually date, despite the fact that she has a boyfriend). On Thursday they always go to the movies, or to grab burgers, or to wander the mall to look at the decorations in Sears. He makes an effort, possibly because he wants to sleep with her, to connect with her even if just for an hour or two a week.

But, I on the other hand, am never invited to do any of these things. By Blue or any of the boys at work. Kat has the way about her that the boys gravitate too. She is an attractive girl, with fiery red hair and yet a vulnerability to her. When she comes around, the boy I could be talking to, will admittedly stop talking to me and go off with Kat. And it doesn't help that Kat loves the attention. She has said before that she wants the attention to be on her, to make other girls (namely the ones she doesn't like) jealous. To put them in their place.

And this is all fine and dandy, except when I inadvertently am that girl. I don't consider myself a homely, ugly, plain, unexciting chick. I think I'm pretty and interesting but I'm not really comfortable in my feminine skin yet (like Kat). I still rock baggy clothes and old school t-shirts. I still say yuck when someone asks why I don't wear makeup and you couldn't get me to wear a skirt if you paid me. And because boys are visuals creatures, I sometimes feel like the ugly duckling around Kat. Especially when the ratio of boys who pay her attention trumps the one or two who look my way.

And i KNOW i am being a stupid, dumb, sensitive girl but some days I want people to be interested in having me around. I want to be the girl who people seek to hang out with. And I hate feeling like the 2nd runner up. So when she me a text of what Blue said I was livid. WHY THE HELL WOULDN'T HE WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME ALONE? Am I not cool enough/pretty enough/interesting enough to be seen in public with him? Maybe he just invited me along so that Kat would feel more inclined to come? Why is it that Kat is sooooo damn special? Marcia! Marcia! Marcia

I immediately sent Blue a text saying that I didn't want to ruin his trip to the city and was not going to go. I ignored Kat's text asking why I didn't respond back to her text about what Blue said. I shut down. I internalized. I felt hollow.

I am not so much insecure about myself as i am trying to understand my wants and desires from myself and the people around me. And on the top of the list is being needed by the people I invite into my life. In a way, I feel sometimes like Kat likes to have me around because I am no competition to her. And Blue likes to have me around because it draws Kat in and because I am the funny comic relief that is never the star of the movie but the memorable, fleeting character.

And for the last few days, I have let this whole conversation (and apologizes from both end) eat me up. I cried and cried some more and then sulked because I felt invalidated by both Kat and Blue. And then I felt angry at Kat for sending me Blue's text and at Blue for using me. And then I just felt sad and angry and depressed about everything.

On Thursday Kat and I didn't say one word to each other. She was so gloomy and sullen to the point where everyone kept asking her what was wrong, which only made me feel worse because I was the injured one. And then "James Franco" came in to visit her on his day off (because while i have connected to him on some level, he too has been lured by Kat's delicate, dangerous beauty) and I got all frustrated. So frustrated to the point where I even ignored him.

I like 'James Franco' more than I like to admit. And when Kat asked if it was okay that she begin flirting with him at work, I said 'okay' because outside of the marvelous day in the city we spent together, 'James Franco' and I remain in the platonic friend zone. Which is okay, i guess, because he is soooo young. At 20, our five year age difference seems colossal. I once referenced 'Blossom' in a conversation and he had no idea what I was talking about. It was brutal.

But he is really mature for his age, and sometimes in my dumb girl brain, I wish I was more his type. I wish he would give me the amount of attention he's given Kat recently (he made her a mixcd, I was very jealous). But he doesn't, so I watch occasionally from the sidelines (like the damn runner up) wishing I were in her place as he gushes over her, and touches her hand in a delicate way. And I pine, perhaps, to be wanted.

And after the whole Blue statement, and Kats lack of tact/discretion, and 'James Franco' slight interest towards her I couldn't help but feel like a dumpy, frumpy, uninteresting girl (the whole dreadful week) who no one will ever want (in a friend way. in a romantic way. in any sort of way).

So I ignored him, for reasons that were purely out of jealousy. I ignored him because....of Kat. Because of my issues with Blue. Because of my issues with myself.

But 'James Franco' was not having any of this. While most people (mcabs) allow me to be distant and rude and moody, 'James Franco' was not okay with the silent treatment I was giving him. After three days of complete silence, he interrupted my break today to ask what 'was up with me' and my 'mood' and my 'attitude towards him' (kids got some balls). Just like that, as if the answer was that easy. Luckily we were the only two in the break room, so the way I decided to answer could not get me in trouble or cause anyone to worry

"I'm not dealing with things well right now, and I'd like to feel like shit so I can figure out what to do next. I'm sorry "

"You don't have to be sorry. But I'd like you to talk to me about it, especially if it's something i did, and if it has nothing to do with me, I'd like you to come to me anyway, just because" (paraphrasing, he is only 20 after all)

For some reason, 'James Franco' makes me want to be honest about things, and rarely do people tell me I can come to them to vent. so I say

"Up until three years ago, I didn't know how to go to people and tell them my problems. I don't mean to come off rude or bitchy or distant but I feel like people want me to be someone that I can't, and I want them to be someone they can't and I don't know how to come to terms with our inability to do that".

And he looked at me, wearing his stupid hipster glasses and said the he understood. That I can't worry about trying to be anyone except myself because just being me is worth more than trying to be someone else. And that it's okay to sulk and be in a funk and disappear into thoughts for awhile but coming up for air is helpful to. Talking is too.

"You have my number you know. Outside of this shit hole, you can always call me. I hope you know that"

"Yep"

And with that, he walked out.

How am I not suppose to be attracted to this. How? If James Franco were to barge in on you while you were picking at your food and writing bad poetry, only to tell you to 'perk up, or discuss whats wrong', what would you do? You'd gush and spend the last two hours replaying the scene in your head.

When did my life become a Degrassi High episode. I don't think I can take much more of this.

Dear Customer (Round 2),

If you are standing in the checkout line, with books in your hand, and I ask 'may I help the next person' because I am the cashier at the time, you have NO Right (as a common decent human being) to tell me to 'hold on, I'll be ready in a minute' while you try to make up your mind about purchasing the language book.


Standing in a line at the cashwrap means (in retail world) that you have now completed your shopping trip and are ready to 'check out'. And once your turn has come (after waiting a few minutes), you are to make your way to the counter, hang me over your items, and me complete the transaction as soon as possible (i am not one for chit chat at cashwrap).

It does not mean that you, and your dumb friends, can linger in front of my register, chatting it up about the book you aren't sure you want to buy, only to tell me to "wait, until I'm ready' when I inquire about how I can help you. You sir, and your douche friends are IN LINE, which means only one of two things: you are about to ask me to help you find a book;to which I will tell you to go to customer service OR you are ready to check out.

That's It. It does not mean that I am your personal cashier, ready to assist you whenever you are ready.

It does, however,mean that I get to talk about you, loudly, (because hey you are there) to the "E-Reader" Guy who has just heard you tell me to 'wait a minute'. It does mean that I get to complain about dumb rude customers and the pains it takes to come to work and deal with them every day. It also means that when you do decide to buy that book, I have every right to tell YOU to wait a minute, while I slowly finishing 'cleaning' up at my register which has all of a sudden gotten soooo dirty.

And while you are entitled to huff and puff all you want as I stall for time, I am once again allowed to tell you to 'hold on just one more minute' while I then call someone else over to ring you up and then proceed to go on my 15 minute break which lasted 25. I'm allowed to do that: as a patient and loving employee of Le Sad Store.

Have A Great Day,

Your Local Sales Associate.

Bad News. Good News.

So about that interview I went on last week...

I can't believe, I've been so mum about how it went or if I got to the next phase of the interview process. Excuse me and my forgetful news. Good News or Bad News first?

Bad News: I didn't move on to Round 2.

While the interview went really well (on many levels) I was passed up, once again, due to my 'inexperience'. I was spunky, upbeat, enthusiastic and knowledge about publishing. But most of my experience is not job specific and the position they were hiring for (editorial assistant) in the business heavy division (urban planning) needed a candidate able to easily transition in the role. So while I sparkled and dazzled the pants off my interviewer, I received another rejection letter a few days later wishing me luck.

Good News: I have another interview with the same company tomorrow!

Say What? While I did receive one of the most polite rejection letters ever, it was not a full on 'we don't want you' notice. Instead, the Editor I interviewed with said she liked my enthusiasm and personality so much that she passed my resume to the Editor of the Music department whose editorial assistant recently put in his/her two weeks notice.

While nothing was set in stone she did mention that I may hear back from someone in a few days about an interview with said Music Editor. So, I was excited to receive a call on Friday from the publishing company asking me to come in for another interview (for a different job of course).

Round 1.5, I've been calling it.

The interview is tomorrow afternoon and I am pumped and a little nervous. Hunting for a job is taxing on the soul. Every rejection is like a kick to your ego. When I graduated from college a couple of years ago, I thought I'd have a job immediately. I mean, I'm smart. I'm educated. I am capable. I'm a generally well rounded, even tempered gal. Three years later, after being told 'i don't have enough work experience' 'i should take more internships' 'i need a better background in xyz' you can kind of feel like four years of college was a waste.

I can't get a job because i don't have work experience. But I can't get real life work experience if no one will hire me. Job hunting sucks and until I get one I will have to work my way around rejection.

So tomorrow is huge. The editor did not have to pass my information along to anyone. But she saw something in me outside of my 'inexperience' to help me in my job hunt.

I've done enough research for tomorrow to be prepared (and ask interesting questions) but i'm trying to remain calm in order to let my enthusiasm and passion come through. All I need is for ONE person to believe I can do the job and I am a shoe in for a nice entry level position. Fingers crossed that that one person is sitting across from me tomorrow. I'm ready to begin a new phase in my life and put the hassle of job hunting and bookstore slaving behind me.

The Simple Life:

Things I'd like to do today (but can't because i have to be at work in an hour):

• Call out from work


• watch daytime television and dumb talk shows


• take a very long cat nap


• make lunch: pasta, Alfredo and a lot of Parmesan


• dance to 90's alternative music


• take another very long cat nap


• watch something campy on netflix: a horror classic or an unfunny comedy


• continue the collage I've started


• eat cheesecake


• thumb through the book i can't seem to finish (the grief of of others)


• watch x-factor


• take more pictures of the moon


• watch nickelodeon: 90's edition


• fall asleep


• dream sweet dreams


• wake up


• repeat.

Booksellers Lament

Dear Crazy Customer,

I couldn't care less that we don't have the magazine you read religiously, every month, on our shelf. It is not my problem, or honestly my issue, that you think our store has some secret agenda to make you shop elsewhere. I understand that you shop here EVERY day( i know because I see you. every. fucking day), and can NEVER find the items that you want. If we carried every magazine in the whole entire world, well we'd be a warehouse or Amazon.

The moment I sign out for the day, and put on my jacket and scarf, I am not a property of the store. Which means that while you can (but shouldn't) stop me on my way out the door, after a grueling eight hour shift, to bitch and complain and raise your voice to the point that everyone thinks you are yelling at me, to inform me that we, once again, don't have a particular item you wanted in the store..... I have every right to tell you to Go Fuck Yourself and shop somewhere else.

Well, that's what I'm allowed to say because I'm not on the clock anymore. Evident by the lack of name tag, interest in talking to you, and cell phone in my hand. But because I was too polite to say GO FUCK YOURSELF aloud , suggesting you shop somewhere else was totally in my means. Even if it was to get you the hell out of my face. Also suggesting that you find a store that meets your shopping needs was the bitchy way of telling you your mental and emotional needs need tending to before anything else.

Because why else would you stop me as I am mere inches from the exit, and freedom, to trouble me with an issue that doesn't concern me anymore? Did it look like I cared that we didn't have your magazine in stock? Hell, did the fact that i put on my headphones, not give you a hint that i was no longer interested in talking to you?

Of course not. Because not only are you crazy but you're an idiot that's why. And because you think those of us who work at Le Sad Store have a cot in the back where we sleep (because naturally we don't have lives outside of the store) you continued to 'talk loudly' as I nodded my head in disbelief.


You better be glad, the manager (who saw i was in some what of a pickle), came over to ask if you needed any help. You better be glad that my interview on Friday went sorta really well. And that I get this second interview you can bet my ass I am going to ace the hell out of it to get the hell away from customers like you. Because my patience of steel was beginning to give way after listening to you for 5 minutes.

I was, in all honesty, about to unleash a very unladylike verbal assault on your ears that would begin and end with me telling you, in not so pleasant words, that the next time you stop me for help and I am not clocked in, I will unleash the last three years of pent of frustration from dumb ass customer much like yourself from my little but expletive filled mouth . AND that if you EVER raise your voice to me, I will personalize find the magazine you want, make you buy it, and tell you to shove it up your ass.

Now, Have A Nice Day.

From,

Your local Sales Associate at Le Sad Store.

Here We Go Again

I have an interview this Friday with a publishing company looking for an editorial assistant and while I am very excited about this new opportunity all i have been saying since I found out is.... 'here we go again'.

Don't me wrong, I am totally excited that a month after one of the worst interview experiences EVER, i have another job prospect on the horizon. It a nice editorial job that pays well over my asking price with a reputable company that deals with academic, nerdy, scholarly text (which I find interesting). But the part of me that is excited is only meet with the other side of me that knows this will be another 'i really need this job, I hope they offer me the position, please don't let this be another disappointment' couple of weeks.

I feel like i have enough publishing knowledge to talk about books and the market and my interest in their publishing house with out a problem...but I am seriously so burnt out from this job hunting experience (and interviewing process) that I feel a little off my game this week. Hell a lot off my game. And I am seriously considering taking a small, two week, break from applying to jobs just so I can regroup and gain the energy again to put myself out there.

On Monday I woke up with another huge ass spider bite on my arm, that was red and swollen and an eye sore to everyone at work. Because I spent last week in physical pain (felt like i had the flu) and Monday with an itchy arm, I've been on meds to restore my body to a functioning being again. Instead the effect has not been great; I feel sleepy, cranky, lethargic and besides myself with how drained I am. I wish I could take a week off from things for a while and just lounge in my room all day and sleep.

But life seems to be in motion suddenly. I am no longer at the starting line waiting for the whistle or shot to fire. Things are happening and actions need to be made from all angles and I have no other choice but to get out of this weird funk and be a part of the changes happening around me. Recently everything has felt so exciting and scary at the same time, and I wish i was in a better mood to handle it all.

I simply need to be able to handle it all.

I've already picked my interview outfit(because in the last three years I have acquired enough pieces where I don't have to buy anymore business clothes) and printed out all the necessary documents. I'm preparing enough to ask relevant questions about their company and the position being offered. And if all else fails and things don't go as well as I wanted (because that too is a possibility), I have mapped out a route to the nearest bakery in walking distance to their building.... that sells tasty cupcakes for me to buy.

Oh yeah, I'm a girl who knows how to prioritize.