Exhausted Kitty.

this week beat the crap out of me.

Call me when it's over.

~Beckett

Tee Hee.

So I may have requested to have today off just so I can watch the season premier of Doctor Who tonight.

I know, I know, very lame and nerdy bordering on geek like territory. But I just couldn't imagine being at work, until close, with unruly teenagers and despondent co-workers on a very beautiful rainy day while Doctor Who was on. I just couldn't.

And for some reason this week just beat the crap out of me. I had so many things to do, not enough time to do them all but I was too much of a hardheaded person to space the events out. I felt all kinds of spread thin and exhausted.

So while my reasons may be nerdy and now I am a day short of making money, I do not care. It's Doctor Who day. And it's rainy which always evokes feelings of England. And I couldn't be happier.

I meet the coolest Who fan the other day. The kid was like 12 and was shopping in the teen department with his mom. I was helping a truly unpleasant man a few shelves down when I turned to see the boy holding a doctor who box set. I ditched the customer quickly with a 'have a good day' and went up to the kid.

"shows coming out tomorrow are you excited?" I asked. I was not expecting much of a response outside of 'yeah, i guess'. Instead he stood up quickly and exclaimed:

"I've been waiting for months now. the show is sooooo good and I love Matt Smith as the Doctor, I want to watch all the episodes before tomorrow but I don't think I'll have the time. And my sister is coming home from China tomorrow. China and we love the show and watch it together and I bought this for her with gift cards I got for my birthday and we plan on spending the day watching the series at home with our parents. I'm so excited"

I almost hugged him. I wanted to laugh he was so excited. By the time he finished he was very red faced and grinning from ear to ear. Instead of giving the kid a bear hug, I said something about there being an all day marathon tomorrow (today) and that he could catch some of the old seasons on BBC America as well.

His mom joined into the conversation as well, to see who her son was talking to, and said that while she wasn't as big of as fan as her son she enjoys watching the show with her kids. It's become a family thing. I got all kinds of weepy and happy when she admitted this, and wished them a happy Who premiere night when they left the store.

I have some reservations about getting older and the social expectations of marrying, settling down, and having kids. At 25, most of the people I went to high school with have married their high school sweethearts or college beaus and have popped out at least one child by now.

Their online life consists of profile pics of bland looking children and status updates about potty training and breast feeding. It seems all so blah, and yuck. Especially because I do not want any of that.

Obviously I am not so conventional when it comes to domestic living. I am a 'selfish' single person who likes being responsible only for my own wants. I am at that weird age where my past life as a 18 year high school senior relying on my mother for stability comfort and money parallel the life I will have as a career 'girl' who will have to asses her life socially, romantically and professionally in the future.

In this awkward middle place, my perspective about child me and adult me is very terrifying and tear inducing. I can only look left to reminisce about being a teenager and my home life from those turbulent teen days (which when I think about now weren't all that bad or turbulent. But rather nice and simple and easy compared to life now) and to the right I am anxious and excited about who I will be( ten years from now) and the people I will have in my life, and all the prospects of adult living that will come with.

And sometimes when I do think about what I would like in ten years, a family is up there somewhere. A distant foggy image of them anyway, where I am a mom to a nice pre-teen boy who purchases (with birthday gift cards) his sister a dvd of a show the whole family watches just because it brings happiness to them all.

I miss being home some days. I miss my mom and my brother. And at 25, I can only miss my place in a family unit because I am so far away from my own version of it, but so far from creating one for myself.

There I go thinking to much again.

The point is, Doctor Who is coming on tonight and that kid reminded me why I have no reason to be ashamed about loving the show. It's amazing. Matt Smith is amazing and the story lines are captivating. I am excited to no end that my next few Saturdays will involve geeking out to Doctor Who.

I have my chips, soda and food ready for my night of adventure (and British accents) while I drool over the hotness that is Matt Smith (I really must met a nice British boy).

I was suppose to watch the premier with friends tonight but the rain has deterred me and honestly I would rather spend the day inside. To myself. I like having no plans and the idea of even looking outside is too much of an effort.

I love that I am accepting how much of a nerd I am. It has made life a lot easier and a lot more fulfilling.

Epic Fail.

Is it possible to be both a great babysitter and awful one? I think so.

Ever since the success of my last babysitting stint I knew I would be sitting again come Spring Break. Outside of not being able to sleep on my day off, I generally like babysitting. It's easy money, I get to stay home and Nicole, my landlady's daughter, is a spunky,creative, nine year old who is both funny and introspective.

We had a blast the last time. We colored mandalas, listened to new and old music and watched a crap load of Disney movies on Netflix. I got paid $100 for the two days of child watching. That's pretty amazing, if you ask me.

The last time I babysat Nicole I promised that next time around we would watch Matilda and make cupcakes.


She mentioned to once that she isn't much of a reader which almost crushed my nerd heart beyond repair. At nine I was so in to reading that I can't remember a time when I didn't have a book in my hand. My mom, brother and I spent more time at the library than any other place. We even had designated reading time. When we would all camp out in the living room with our respective books, reading until the hour was up.



But then again, we didn't that many distraction in the 90's either. No Internet, few video games and I don't even think a cellphone seemed possible back then. So when she said she didn't like to read, I sort of got all 'but why, it's so awesome. I mean, it's not an Ipod or anything but reading takes you places man"



But she said 'nothing really interest her' in books and that 'reading is hard'. The nerd in me started talking about all the books I read as a kid and how much fun my friends and I had talking about the ones we finished(a white lie). That yeah, some books are hard to read but it's because they are meant to challenge you. I sounded all too much like a book nerd but reading is awesome folks, kids need to know this.

She seemed a little intrigued by my excitement and asked"what kind of books" are interesting to read.

"you know, books like, that...."


But I got tripped up. I was about to mention the last book that I read the one about a dead teenager in some small new england town and the cover up the town folks are involved in. But then I remembered she's only nine and I'm 25 and the last children's or teen book I read was "the world we knew" which I really wasn't that interested in to be honest about.

So I said:

"you know the one about that.... girl who name is Matilda...and her mind powers something or another.'

I don't know why this Roald Dahl book flew out of my mouth. I love the movie Matilda but do not remember reading the story as a kid. I may have taken the short route and just watched the movie instead. I think I may have down that with all the Roald Dahl books to be honest.

But my explanation was good enough because Nicole was all: 'Omg! Can we watch Matilda the next time we hang out. Please. Please. Oh, and then we can read the book and stuff'. What was I going say? no.

So, with Tuesday just around the corner I had Netflix send me a copy of Matilda and bought cupcake making goodies prepared for our nerd day of Roald Dahl and sweets.

But at the last minute, landlady asked if I would mind watching Nicole and her friend, Julia. She apologized for the short notice but knew that I could handle watching both girls after my success the last time. I agreed, because it was the night before, but quickly wondered if two pre-teens would be interested in a nerd day.

The answer is no.

A already jaded and tough, Julia, spent the first hour giving me the stank eye while we waited for Nicole to wake up. I tried to engage her in 'so how's it going' pleasantries but she was having none of it and I quickly felt like the uncool older person trying to make someone like her. I knew that until I was deemed worthy by Nicole, I would be given the stank eye all day.

When Nicole finally woke up, I feed them breakfast and listen to them both explain to me what the word 'shit' meant. You know just encase I didn't know.

It was then that I knew my cupcake making, Matilda watching plans were not going to work. I needed to tire out these kids quickly to make the day go by faster. They spent most of the morning wanting to watch Piranha 3D on youtube. When I asked 'don't you think that movie is a little scary for you guys' they admitted they'd already seen most of it but wanted to show me the gory parts.


So we watched a version dubbed in Dutch, while I reminded them that the piranhas in the movie weren't real and that Adam Scott and Jerry O'Connell should not be refer to as 'those old guys' in the movie.


They then asked questions like 'why do boys like boobs' and went through my cell phone asking if "matt, josh' and every other male name in my phone were boyfriends of mine.

I quickly decided that I needed to get this kids away from my phone, out of the house and far from any and all youtube videos featuring Piranhas' (and references to people my age as old).


So I took them to the movies with the food money landlady left to order pizza. They'd already seen Rio (le sigh. i wanted to see it) so Soul Surfer was our only option. They were actually very excited about this film and it made me remember how impressionable pre-teens are when it comes to films targeted to their age.

While I was rolling my eyes at the sheer cheesy of the movie (yes, I know Bethany Hamilton gets her arm torn off by shark, overcomes tragedy and accomplishes her dream of being a pro surfer. But the movie was a scene away from a Hallmark picture and there were so many God references I was uncomfortable) the girls were glued to the movie.

There are several scenes where you know the produces were like 'we want people to cry....now". At one point as I was suppressing laughter at a truly corny scene, I turn to see that Nicole is crying. Bawling actually. She is rubbing her eyes and breathing deeply and I thought she was choking on the popcorn. But no she was simply 'overcome' by this terrible terrible movie (with Helen Hunt and Dennis Quaid looking hella old).

At this point I check to make sure Julia is alright only to see that she too is consumed with tears.
When I asked them what's wrong they both say that the movie is 'so inspirational they want to be a one armed surfer too'.

I shit you not!!!

After the movie, I dragged both red faced children from the theater and ask them what the wanted to do next. There response.

'Man that shark was scary. Can we watch the movie Jaws when we get home. I hear the shark in that movie is scarier".

Yes folks. After being traumatized by killer piranhas, a shark who tears a girls arm off (a scene in the movie that made me jump) they both begged me to watch Jaws. Begged me. And because I freaking love that movie I said:

Alright, but the moment you two freak out we are turning off the movie and watching Disney.

So we head back home and I allow them to watch the first 15 minutes and last 20 minutes of Jaws. I didn't see the harm in it, until both recoiled in terror as the shark nearly eats poor Richard Dreyfus.

I got up once, during the boat shark scene, to go to the bathroom and they gave me the 'hey where are you going, you aren't going to like leave us during the movie are you' stare. So i stayed.


If these kids aren't traumatized by Tuesday they must have hearts of steel. It was a ocean infused day of monsters and missing limbs. I had to leave soon after the moms came (to meet up with some people at work) but I did hear both exclaim that I was the best babysitter ever and that they wanted to do the day all over again.

Good Job, Beckett. Good Job.

Next time I think I'll stick to Roald Dahl and popcorn. Lesson learned.

This week has been long and stressful. I feel all over the place and disconnected from everyone and everything. I was suppose to turn in that reader response last week but only did so today after staying up until 3am to write a two page response.I've never felt such ambivalence for a book before and found nothing exciting at all to say.

The bookstore drudgery continues and our crew is getting smaller than ever. ANDI may have inadvertently pissed of Dan, hot new manager, to some degree that has caused uneasy tension between us.

The only highlight of the week was that I finally saw Scream 4 and geeked out big time when Neve Campbell appeared on the screen.

But everything else remains the same. I applied to handful of jobs this week and am near my desperation point. Everyone around me is applying to graduate school programs because they too cannot find a job in this economy. And it is making me uneasy about my own decision to not pursue school, for now.

I'm just not sure if I want to go to grad school or what I would actually get a degree in because I'm not really sure what I want to do. Graduate school is not an option right now especially because the thought of having any more student loans gives me so much anxiety that I'd rather focus my energy of getting a job. Any job at this point.



I simply need more money and better prospect and those thoughts alone have worn me down.

In other news, I have finally attached a link to Grilled Cheese on the side though.



Because a lot of people from my job, and potential employers, have access to that journal I ask that if you do visit, please don't make any references to Everything Was. I'd like the keep these two spheres as separate as possible and the thought of people from my job accessing my inner thoughts here is mortifying.

Outside of that feel free to visit and say hi. My username is Just_A_Girl (for commenting purposes) and entries are all book, movies and television related. So far I only have a few posts up (both in regards to Scream 4) but I'll provide some more random pop culture entries every week or so.

Now time for sleep. I have Saturday off and can't wait for it to get here already. This week has been the longest and I could use a break away from things.

~Beckett.

Longest Day.

Babysitting. Scream 4. Reading a 400 page manuscript. Eat. Sleep.

What have I gotten myself into. I some how managed to plan every possible excursion on the same day.

I am patiently waiting on the landlady's daughter to wake up so she can entertain her friend, who i am also babysitting. So far the other girl and I have said all but three words to each other, and because I have this general belief that kids will warm up to you when they won't I have stayed in the kitchen to avoid forced conversation.


I know, I'm like the best babysitter ever.

I planned a day of watching movies and baking cupcakes but with two kids to watch that doesn't seem like the smartest idea. Instead, if the sleeping kid every wakes up: maybe i should check on her, I might take them to the movies. It will kill 2 hours and I can possibly take a nap in the theater. I'll set my phone on vibrate or something and then jolt up towards the end of the movie.

And because Tuesdays are $6 dollars a flick day at the theater I will see Scream 4. Did I mention that I have yet to even make a dent in the manuscript I agreed to read. Oh, I looked at it. I scanned quickly but I have no interest in finishing the thing. It's all kinds of blah, the pacing slow and it has to do with a graduate student finishing up school. I can't even come up with a bad or positive thing to say about it. I am ambivalent.

I really should go upstairs and see if Nicole is okay. I know kids sleep in late but it's like 10:16 and the other child is minutes away from booking. I can tell. I would be mortified if she was like 'can i go home now, Nicole's not coming and you've been on your computer all morning'.

Dear god let me survive this. I feel like the day is going to shit and it's only just begun.

You Can't Freak Out Now Gurl.

Memba' Debbie Downer? My boss from the library and really good friend while I was a student at USC.

Well turns out she has a writing gig for me that I am a bit scared yet excited about. Let me explain.

Yesterday I officially launched Grilled Cheese. I use the word launch very loosely. It's not really a professional website, it's just my 'i really need to have a web page featuring clips for potential employees to access:so that they know i don't suck as a writer and hire me for a gosh darn job already'.

Because I don't have any legit writing samples as a 'professional writer' creating a web page with blog posts I could use for clips seemed....like the perfect solution. Because lets be honest, I am a horrible at networking and selling myself (not in the Pretty Woman sort of way) and providing samples of my writer will be useful as I try to start some sort of career.

The fact that I am horrible with this whole networking thing is probably why finding a job has been damn near impossible. As an introverted person, I rarely like putting myself out there. I hate having to sell who I am and what I'm good at. I am not at all competitive in the 'look I'm way better than this person' game. I'd rather just fade into the back, remain a quiet observe and relish in the silence.

For some reason I have always associated 'networking' with sucking up.I mean I understand the importance of it, I do. But I can't get past my apprehensions that networking involves bugging someone into liking you.

There is this one customer who comes into the store every time we have a big author event. He is a college student who attends the hipster college near by and spends the bulk of his nights at the store with his friend drinking lattes in the fiction aisle (and leaving the cups on the shelves like a asshat).

Any time a relatively famous author/media personality visits the store he makes sure to be in attendance. He has a business card and everything (i saw him hand one out to the NBC new anchor who stopped by a few months ago) and because I usually end up working the events I tend to watch him act all cheesy when he gets his book signed; making sure to throw his name out there along with his interest in pursuing a career in broadcast media to whoever is visiting.

His approach is probably very effective. Not probably, it is what some would ambitious.That kid will make it...trust me. Even though I loathe the sight of him in the store, I know that kids like him always make it (somewhere)because they are not embarrassed about being pushy and in your face.When he graduates college he will have more contacts than I do now. I know this for a fact.

But to me he is the epitome of a brown-noser. His approach is feels tactless and (even) pushy. And the odd things is, I know that my statement is false. I know that networking is the smartest thing a person could do. Especially for someone like me who wants to join a creative field. Especially in this economy. But for some reason I have never been able to disassociate the two and I am terrified at the thought of having to do so in order to have a career.

This Grilled Cheese thing is my feeble attempt at networking. A small creative venture that hopefully will prove to someone, outside of my mom, that I am passionate about writing. Or at least that I have a strong storytelling ability

I've mentioned the webpage at work some, especially to those who have questioned my ability to even formulate a sentence. But pursuing this writing portfolio seems daunting. I was actually very nervous about creating Grilled Cheese and putting my work out there.

Writing journal entries about my everyday life is easy. Sharing my thoughts and feelings and obsessive thoughts to whoever all of you here is....cathartic. Trying to create a blog that solely represents my voice as a 'writer' is terrifying and stressful. Trying to convey a sense of voice and identity without talking about Mcabs or Le Sad Store seems so impersonal I don't know if the things I write there will read...honest.

I intend to link Grilled Cheese to my resume, as a lot of people in the creative industry are social networking whores, but I feel anxious and guilty for wanting the work I create on Grilled Cheese...to be good.

So far I've generated a few views to my site. A couple of 'isn't that nice beckett started a little blog' from my employees and dare I say one questionable 'a writing website-like anyone is going to read it' comment from a sort of friend.

However Debbie Downer was ecstatic about this venture. She has been nothing but positive since my big reveal. She sent me an email and everything when I made the announcement a few days ago. And she has officially joined the small cheering squad that has accumulated on my side.

I posted my first 'welcome to my site' entry yesterday and was relieved that at least the awkward introduction is out of the way. Now I can solely write reviews, critiques and other professional writing clips and started padding up a virtual portfolio.

Of course, Debbie Downer congratulated me on my first 'piece' and then added that she may have a writing opportunity for me if I was interested(hell yes) in response to my creative mojo.

Debbie Downer has been an artist for years outside of working at the library of my Alma Mater. She mainly draws sketches, paints larger pieces and creates figurines out of clay.While she has shown me some of her creations in the past, I did not know the extent of her craft until recently.

A few weeks ago she got in touch with a friend who owns a gallery in downtown Columbia. Said friend and owner is interested in displaying some of her art work in the gallery this summer.It would be a small show featuring a bunch of other works by local artists. It's a huge opportunity nonetheless and she asked me if I could supply a small poem (or prose) to be attached to her drawings. A story to weave the images together in a poetic way. I will be given 50% of anything that sells at the gallery.

AND she wants also to eventually turn the project into a book published by a small publishing house nearby. I'm freaking out ya'll.

This is great and grand on some many levels. She sent me links to some of her current work and the drawings are amazing. Gothic, Celtic, quirky images of men and women on the outskirts of society. Freaks and Mystical beings draped in Victorian outfits and even a mask or two. I am totally amazed that she would even consider me for the project yet alone share half the profits from it.

Of course, I jumped on to the project as soon as I finished her email. And we have chatted back and forth about the collboration.

But now of course doubt fills my body and and i am petrified by having this writing opportunity. While we are a long way from showing her work in that gallery, I am concerned that perhaps my words won't do her art justice. While the images are hers the world I create for them is all my own. She has given me complete artistic range...and I am scared that I am not prepared for this. That in some way I cannot create anything worth being seen outside of my head.

I am suddenly inundated with writing/reading projects. Though all small, they have overwhelmed me in some way. The guy from work who questioned my 'web page' actually asked me a couple of weeks ago to help him set up an etsy shop. He sells steam-punk jewelery and wants me to write the description for things he will sell soon. I generally like the pieces he has brought to work and agreed to write up descriptions for him (as that too is a possible means of income. anything will help at this point).

Along with that, I took this freaking no pay reader position ( i read manuscripts and then compose reader responses for them) with the literary agency that did not hire me.While unpaid it will look good on my resume, but it also means that my days off are sometimes spent reading incredibly dull manuscripts.

And NOW along with Grilled Cheese; where I have to restrain myself from writing about....well...myself, I have (though honestly I want) to create a story and subsequent words for Debbie's creations.

While I am excited about all of these ventures, I am worried that I cannot live up to my potential. That like every aspect of my life, my feelings of inadequacies (though unfounded) will stunt me and limit my contribution to any of these projects; even the ones that mean the most to me.

It's anxiety, I know this. But the pervasive thoughts along with my other anxieties about money and loans have kept me up at night. And I'm freaking out that I can't handle what I want because I'm so use to not feeling like I deserve any of it.

Silly, I know.

Grilled Cheese

The weekend has come to a close and I think I am reclaiming my mojo. Thank God.

As usual Le Sad Store was a hectic mess the last two days. While no one called out due to hangovers, customers still busied themselves with hanging out in the store and trashing the place.

The bookstore is a weird place. Every so often some asshole of a customer makes a remark like 'I'm so sad that bookstore are closing' while paying for...a book. I usually have one response to this 'yeah, i guess. your total is going to be_____'. I refuse to engage with some people. I know it's rude but I've gotten trapped in some truly dull conversations because I was being polite.

The truth is there is a culture to 'bookstores'. While book sales are decreasing, the amount of people who just like 'hanging out' in bookstores is...constant. Bookstores are designed to feel homey and inviting; with couches and tables and a cafe where you can grab something to eat and spend all day wandering about. And while some bookstore chains are shuting down, i think we have a while before bookstore becomes things of the past.

While profits are a big deal to corporate folks they are completely ignoring the huge fact that most people just like hanging out around books and magazines. And this is why we get repeat customers. Or as we call them regulars.

If they are not there every day they are every other day. I know for a fact that I despise the 'regulars' the most. Some are there as soon as we open and do not leave until we close. Most are such frequent 'hang-outers' that they feel apart of the general staff.

I've had a few try to engage me in conversations about the store. As if at the end of the night they too are stuck cleaning up. And others tell stupid jokes like 'you guys sure do work here a lot, they must have cots in the back for you'. Excuse me, I'm here a lot? This is coming from the guy who comes in early just so he can put his belonging on the treasured couch in cafe. Yeah.

I only bring this up because the other day on of them addressed me by my first name, as if we had known each other for years. I hate when people who don't know me call my name.

Sometimes you help a person and the will stare at your name tag just to say "thanks ____". But I am really weird about my name. Everyone ends up giving me some sort of nickname anyone that I only prefer my friends and family to use it. I just don't think customers need to be on a first name basis with me. Unless they are or look Sufjan Stevens.

So when I was walking down the aisle and heard my name being called by a person whose voice I was not familiar with I didn't turn around. Seriously. But the person kept getting closer and the sound of my name got louder and when I turned around some guy that I helped ONCE, over the phone, was inches from my face.

Because he now had my attention he went on and on about some question that he knew I could answer. I smiled, nodded my head, looked at my imaginary clock and then said 'yeah, that sounds awesome guy whose name i don't know'. I did mumble the last part because I knew he wouldn't hear me, which he didn't. He then smiled, thanked me for my help and walked away

I'm officially changing my name at the store. Maybe I'll be a Lynn or Alice. Something so unlike me that I won't care when someone yells it.

I hate retail. The only part of it I love about it is the people I work with. Even when they get on my nerves I truly know some amazing, talented and funny people. If it weren't for the customers I really wouldn't hate my job as much.

But I don't want to be at Le Sad Store forever just because I like my co-workers. And I don't want to be Josh or Blue or any other of the million bookstore employees working there until there big break occurs.

There is this girl, a' regular', about 19 who has made friends with half of the staff. She is sweet, nice and wants to be a writer once she graduates school. A couple of weeks ago she asked me if I could edit some of her stories because someone told her that I had publishing experience. I kind of looked at her like 'who are you and what the hell are you talking about' but said i wouldn't mind looking at some of her writings because she knows McAbs.

She hasn't sent me anything though, maybe because i added that i am uber critical and honest to a fault when it comes to writing. However, she has injected herself like she is part of the staff. The other day she positioned herself around customer service for an hour or so just to hang out with us. I felt annoyed and perplexed because people who don't have to put up with the BS of working at a bookstore should not make the store their home.

As I was heading back to customer service I passed her talking to Josh who was telling her that most likely she would end up working at a bookstore for a while (maybe this one) to which she replied 'I can't wait, it seems like so much fun and a writer thing to do'.

My heart sank and I understood then my annoyance with her. Working at Le Sad Store is not fun. The people are but the actual prospects are not. And it isn't the 'writer' thing to do. It's just another one of those sub cultured glamorization of a place that only exists in 90's indie flicks. Maybe that is what drew me to it, but it is the reality that is pushing me away.

So while apart of me reclaiming my mojo is stepping up the job hunt, it also involves stepping up my writer game. I am months away from having to repay my loans. I am in no position to do that currently, not even close and I definitely have no intention of leaving new york. They would have to kick me out by force.

Currently, I am taking steps to make writing my top priority again. I admit, I've been slacking lately. And by lately I mean every since I graduated school. I know that i want to be a writer or rather a creative person doing creative things for a living. Whatever that means. But if I don't at least do something with writing, it will forever me a hobby that now I can't even really say I do on a regular basis. Or I will continue to be a cliche bookstore worker hanging out with creative but extremely lazy people.

So along with writing on Everything Was, uploading pictures on Quiet Girl I've decided that I need a professional blog to contribute to.

I recently saw a post for a production assistant for a really famous Children's Production company but for some reason they asked for a writing sample along with my cover letter and resume. Outside of this blog I don't have any writing samples. I mean I could edit and submit on of my entries here but the post are way too personal for me to do even that.

So i thought, maybe if I created a blog solely for reviews, story excerpts and general not personal musings, I would be able to use this as my writing portfolio. Right?

So far the working title is Grilled Cheese, and I look to contribute some pop-culture, nostalgia ridden, 20 something year old rants every Tuesday and Thursday (along with my more personal rants here of course). Once I have my 'writing website' in working order I'll post a link. While I sometimes loathe some our of technological advances (um, the fact that anyone with a computer or camera, while lacking talent, can be famous) I think having a place where my writing clips can be accessible will be another networking opportunity.

For some reason creating Grilled Cheese makes me feel productive again. While I still have a million and one things to worry about (loan repayment, job hunting) i don't want to neglect the one thing that makes me who i am.

And like James Franco said 'no one is going to ask a new writer to write'. I know I quoted James Franco but former Daniel Desario of Freaks and Geeks has a point. I'm just saying.

Newness.

I just spent the last few hours deleting old pictures from my flickr account.

I'm a sneaky private chick, which is why i have not added a link to the flickr account I created 3 years old on this blog.

Debbie Downer from my days as a library shelver suggested I join, because she knew that I liked to take pictures and outside of facebook and this here journal I wanted another place to post pics.

I love flickr. I visit it almost daily to favorite new and interesting shots. If I were a more ambitious person I would probably want to take up photography in some fashion. I like the idea of taking photos and writing up things about the image. In the bizarro version of my current self, I would have been a photojournalist. Traveling around the world photographing amazing and tragic things.

While flickr is awesome there are some limitations as a free member. I can upload as many photos as I want but I only have access to view 200 of the most current images. The rest, while still uploaded, are not visible to me or anyone else. I could of course upgrade to a premium account for $25/year and have full access to all the photos I have taken but I don't see the point.

Photography has become a hobby because writing isn't anymore. It's something I have come to realize is not a bad thing. I mean I admit, it is sort of the drawback. I miss the days when I could spend hours in bed, writing stories in a notebook that literally cost me a dollar. But now that I know I eventually want it to be a full time thing in some capacity, writing (excluding journal writing) is less personal and leisurely. It, in some way, is a job I am working on perfecting.

And that is why I have substituted taking pictures in its place. Snapping photos creates the same sense of calm and excitement that writing does. And the satisfaction is immediate thanks to digital photography (though I am looking to venture back into the world of film photography). I quite enjoy the freedom of photography and being able to post them on Flickr is cool.

I discovered a loophole a few weeks back in regards to the free member limitations. A loophole that allows me to see some of the old shots I have taken in the 3 years since I joined. By deleting some of my less than stellar pictures (mainly current shots of my sneakers) I gain an old photo from the archive.

It's so weird going through my pictures I took when I was 22. Not as weird as reading posts from six years ago but the feeling is generally the same.

Despite reveling in each reveal of an old photo, I found myself deleting a lot of the older pictures in favor of my new ones. They pictures from 'way back when' make me uncomfortable. I feel like such a different person I can't imagine that there was a time that that me ever existed. On this blog i never ever feel that way. Writing continues to be my heart. It reveals and affirms who i am on a daily basis. But pictures not so much. I remember taking a bunch of the older pictures out of loneliness. or boredom.

They don't so much as tell a story but rather bring up feelings of isolation. The shots were always very fleeting, askew and out of focus images. Things I shot on a whim. Things to fill in the emptiness. I know I should prefer the old images and what they captured but I couldn't.

I use to hate when my mom threw out things, especially because I am such a pack rat. I will keep notes that I myself have written just because I can. I hold on to everything because there are parts of me that are very dismissive and flaky. I hold on to things to remember that it meant something. And when I am ready to chunk it away (or delete the archives), it is only because I have resolved myself to that past and am ready to move forward.

This has nothing to do with this blog. God, i can't even contemplate this journal not being a part of my life. Lately I have been trying to understand my loss of energy. The mojo has left the building again and I am in a desperate search to find it again. And I think it is because I need to find a way to move on from my current situation here. I need something to start happening or I will freak the hell out.

Because I have always felt displaced (and an outsider) I will (forever)be uncomfortable with idea of creating and maintaining a homestead. The thought of settling down anywhere is just terrifying. Of course the idea is not outside of my periphery but it still caused night terrors. I fear that i will always desire something new and spend all my time wondering about 'what's over there' rather than 'what I have'. Especially if I am not sure if what I have is what I want.

Now that March has come and gone I feel....dismal. It's like I've returned home from a long vacation and am settling back into the grind again. Except, I wasn't away. I haven't gone anywhere. Why then do I have this very unsettling feelings of lethargy.

And I realize a bunch of it has to do with newness. Or rather my lack of it. I feel like I spent the bulk of march making room for something new and exciting to fill the void that is post grad existence. March was flipping amazing. I felt confidant, and happy and that things were finally falling into place. Like those old pictures from flickr, i deleted the crap out of things to make room for better things. Like mentally I had a detox of negativity. It was great.

And then March came to a close and April ushered itself in and it's as if life has returned to normal. I feel all light and load-less yet nothing has changed. And if this continues to be normal I don't know what I'll do. I am worn out by the routine. This is worse than the seven year itch. I feel like I am in a novel where the protagonist is living a very boring existence and hers dreams of escaping are met with resistance. Oh my god, maybe I am living a freaking a Richard Yates novel. Please dear god no.

Whatever the case I need something to happen. I need to make something happen. I need a plan. I then need to execute that plan, and then finalize the sucker. I feel an incredible void in my life that I finally realize is unfulfillment. Hell, I know I'm only 25 and I don't need to have my shit together. But at least being on the path to 'shit togetherness' is better than nothing. Right?

April Showers.

So far I am loving the weather April has ushered in.

I am not a huge fan of spring because I have terrible allergies and general disinterest in the bug population making its appearance soon.

I am more of a fall chick. When the leaves start changing colors I get a small pang of excitement in my belly that I cant suppress. It is pure glee and excitement because the fall is full of wind chills and shimmering sunlight. AND i get to pull out all my sweaters and cardigans, which I wear all year round anyway, but it is most appropriate then.

But Spring is slowly winning me over. It's not too hot or too cold and these random spring showers have put me in a very relaxed mood. I wake up and there is no chance in hell the sun is coming out (at least until 4pm). The clouds are thick, heavy and gray. Spring wind is all consuming and powerful and it bangs against my windows during naps; though some might think this annoying I love the sound and have had some pretty awesome naps because of it

I don't mean to write this much about the weather but it is terribly beautiful outside. And for some reason the stillness and beauty and somewhat delicate nature of April reminds me of England. Of course I've never been to England but I imagine that it is always a little grey and rainy there. And anything that slightly resembles England in my heart puts me at ease.

The last few days around here have been hectic and ease is what i crave because of it. While I thought about attending Josh's big party I of course talked myself out of it by the end of the night on Friday. I was super annoyed that he decided to throw his party last minute only because a bulk of the people he invited (including myself) were schedule to close that night. ACTUALLY Josh was also schedule to work Friday night, but he of course did not (could not) reschedule his own party. So he attempted to find someone to cover his shift and when he couldn't he just ended up calling out.

Of course Friday night was horrible at Le Sad store. While Josh and friends got uber drunk and frisky Le Sad Store was understaffed and invaded by teenagers the whole night. Dan the closing manager that night and I felt all kinds of bad because we were a sinking ship and I had no idea how to keep us afloat.

I am beginning to have quite the crush on Dan. A school girl crush. I know. I know, it is totally wrong but he is such a nice guy I can't help myself. I recently heard a song by Kate Nash called Nicest Thing and it sums up my crush on him well.

He is my type on all levels. Smart, nerdy and in a band. He's like Ethan Hawke from every 90's movie I can name. And though I know it is completely dumb to have a crush on a manager type guy from work, I find myself thinking about him a lot.

Unlike my 'relationship' with McAbs I generally find myself wanting to be around Dan. And I am sure at least that he finds me an interesting to talk to. It's that whole 'god if you weren't like my boss I would consider you boyfriend material'.

I'm doomed.

Anyway,

Dan has a tendency of admitting when he is freaking out. Let's be honest he is only two years older than me and has no idea how he went from being a bookseller to a manager. There are times, especially when it is busy, when he will say something like 'I don't know if I can handle this' as if to break the obvious 'we are in trouble' tension. On Friday while I was also freaking out at customer service we both voiced our concerns about how we were going to survive the rest of the night with so little people (and terrible terrible teenagers).

I almost confessed that we had Josh to thank for half the store calling out but I held my tongue and made some half comforting remark that we would find 'someone to do this', 'right?' Though we managed all right that not, the party ended up fucking up the whole weekend at Le Sad Store. People were too hungover to come to work both Saturday and Sunday. Did I mention that I hate my job. With a passion.

I'm a little bit stressed about getting a new one. Loan repayment is months away and I will either need a whole new job or possibly two jobs to survive my post grad repayment phase. I really really don't want to have two jobs. I would much rather have one suckass jobs instead of two. This has been weighing on my mind a lot these days and I honestly to find something quick.

But I need energy to job hunt again. Lots of it. Seriously. I am sluggish these days which is not the greatest place to be mentally. The rain, while beautiful, is not helping much. I am in that place again where I wish things were a little different.

I love new york. I do. But there are some days when I feel like the city is taking a toll on me. Some days I wish I were more settled, instead of afloat. Some days I wish I understood what the hell I was suppose to be doing here. Outside of working at Le Sad Store or hanging out with friends. Becoming an adult is dreadful.