Applying Myself...One Day At A Time.

I apologize for the lack of posts lately. With the days until my grad school stuff being due, I can think of nothing else these days except finishing this story and turning in all my materials on time.

I actually submitted my application today. Unlike most schools, where you can submit all of your materials on line, I have to mail in my story, statement of purpose, and academic paper directly to the school. This is a good thing and a bad thing. It's good because it creates a deadline for me, it's bad because...now i have a f*cking deadline. The materials have to be in before the 15th which means this sucker should be sent out no later than next Monday.

Crap.

The story is coming along, but because I am so self critical of my work I am doing way too much editing and not enough writing. I have yet to master the art of writing something all the way through and working with particulars later. It didn't help that I had the flu last week which took me out of the writing mood, and it doesn't help that there are some family issues going on now, which is sucking the energy out of me.

I of course have been living with my aunt and her daughter since August. For the most part it is okay and convenient because I do not have to pay rent and I get a room to myself. My aunt is a person who constantly needs someone around her and I don't think she gets that i am a person who needs her personal space. With my older cousin in school, I stay in the spare bedroom. This is amazing because I get to shut myself away from my crying cousin and my very (very) delusional aunt.

Apparently, this is an issue for her. She wants someone to talk too about decorating and clothes though she doesn't have the money for either. She wants someone to watch tv shows with and window shop with, which I don't mind but not right now as I struggle with this story. When I was sick, I of course stayed in my room for two days. This was both out of sheer exhaustion and because I didn't want to get Michelle and the rest of my family sick.

A couple of days ago, my mom talked to my grandmother on the phone, who wanted to know how I was doing in New York. My mom of course told her that I was sick for a couple of days but that I was recuperating with no help from my aunt. My grandmother, who must have talked to my aunt some time during my sickness, said something along the lines of "well Beckett was secluding herself in the bedroom (as she always does), how was 'she' suppose to know that she was in there sick". This is hogwash.

I understand that I live in her apartment, but at the same time I pay for everything else. I don't use her phone, I don't use her Internet (sorry to the person I am stealing the Internet from) and I pay for my own supplies (food, clothing, yadda yadda). I babysit all the time, I don't bring people over to the house, I clean up after myself, and I never (NEVER) borrow money. Ever since we moved into this apartment I have enjoyed my personal space, and with the whole grad school thing looming over my head, I need it more then ever.

My mom was very pissed by my grandma's comments. Especially since she knows how difficult and vain my aunt is. Regardless, I am trucking along even though I feel like an inconvenience in her home now. As if, she'd rather I be anywhere else but in her very dysfunctional home.

I don't plan on staying here much longer. My application is due in April the 15th, and then I seriously have to start making some plans. Angie, who cannot afford to stay here either, may be moving back to Kansas soon. She too has lost her excitement for this place and she is sort of looking forward to being anywhere but here. She is giving it until the middle of April, and if she doesn't find anything by then her dad is going to move her home. I will miss her, but I understand the choices we have to make for ourselves in order to remain sane.

I know that I don't want to live here. Right now, it is just not the time for me. Once my application is in and I see if I get accepted or not, i plan on going home for a while. If the grad school thing works on then I'll start my life again in small town USA, get an apartment and two cats (named Dylan and Jack) and grow as a writer in my program. If i don't get accepted, which is a possibility, then I'll try something else. I can teach abroad for a year, finally move to Maine, maybe write for a small newspaper (that hasn't gone out of print) or try my hand again at publishing. Who knows

The future isn't so scary because while I evaluate my time spent here, I know what I don't want in my life which means I am a few steps closer to figuring out what I do. I guess.

Fingers crossed that I don't drive myself crazy with this story.

Fingers crossed.

A Clean Bill of Health

I am getting better. Yeah.

I don't think I have ever been this sick in my whole entire life (or what I can remember of my whole entire life). Marie and my Mom say that stress may have played into the whole flu thing. I never once got this sick in school, I never once got this sick at home but for some reason the amount of stress here triggered something and this time my body wasn't even in it to fight the brave fight.

I took Saturday and Sunday off from work and by Tuesday I dragged myself to the bookstore still sick as hell and carrying a pocketful of cough drops. Tuesday was not a good day, I sort of screwed up a lot, couldn't find books for customers and did I mention I met Stephanie Seymour (the model) but was too sick to realize or care. In all honesty I didn't know how she was. She was passed off to me by co-worker who was helping someone else. I looked up and there was this attractive lady who wanted some books about Saturday Night Live. We didn't have much but I showed her the book I could find and then wished her a good day. A couple of minutes later she came back wanting to know where she could find 'Lolita". So i took her to the fiction section said i thought the book was okay and then wished her another farewell.

Minutes later my boss came over and said "that's Stephanie Seymour". I was like who the hell is Stephanie Seymour (knowing of the name but not knowing why I knew her name) and my boss was like "the sports illustrated model!". My bad, guess it was never my thing.

The Janitor, oh the janitor, took advantage of my weakened state. He kept offering suggestions on how to get better. My favorite was ' take a nice bath'. Baths are cool though I haven't taken one in a very long time (what, showers are more efficient). Of course he wouldn't be The Janitor if the conversation stopped there. 'You know my place is small but i have a really big tub". Nice.To.Know should I ever want to take a bath over his house. Gross.

I survived the night but I don't think I convinced anyone that I was any better. This has been a horrible writing week. I haven't gotten anything done and the time to submit stuff is coming soon. I was going to take the GRE but I don't have the money to take it again and the scores wouldn't get there in time. I mailed my old scores off and am hoping that my superb writing potential, letters of recommendation, and academic paper will make up for the score. I am turning in my paper on The Medieval quest because it was my favorite paper by far (and plus the professor for the class is the graduate student coordinator. If she happens to read it, she may remember who I am. Which is a good thing).

The fiction story is coming along but at the same time I am doing so much revision I don't know where it begins and ends. My writing mojo was put on hold for a while during my sickness and I literally had to bring myself back to that mental place where I want to write and create characters on paper.

My story is good. Well the story that I have in my head is good. Getting it down on paper is a very difficult thing, I am embarrassed by my words and I catch myself revising before I even type anything down. This has been an unhealthy writing thing for a long time but I don't know how to break out of it yet. I hope that I get accepted but if I don't, I still know that I don't want to live here anymore. The old saying is true "been here, done that" and I've realized that this is a place I'd love to visit on regular basis but living here just isn't for me. I have no interest in this banana filled rat race.

Time to get some real work done. Fingers crossed that all this late minute hard work pays off.

I HAVE...

The flu.

I don't know how I went from a coffee hangover to the flu, but I did. I have not been this sick in a very long time. Scarlet Fever and the Chicken Pox combined never felt this bad. I don't remember ever having the flu but it sucks. Majorly.

I have been bedridden (literally) since Saturday, a day I was suppose to work but had to call out on. My suck ass family continues to prove that they are inconsiderate assholes. When I went to get some juice my aunt asked in an annoyed tone if I was "still sick" and then spent the rest of the day ignoring said sick ass. My cousin, who was home for the weekend, couldn't care less that I could have been rotting away right next to him.

I think I hate my non immediate family.

I pretty much have been doing the whole drinking a lot of fluids, eating ever so often and sleeping A LOT, thing. I am getting better, but being sick has a taken a toll on me. I must finish this story by the end of the week (I have set this deadline for myself) and then I have to figure out how long I should stay here for if I do get accepted.

My head hurts, I am going to take some strong medicine, pass out and hope that i survive this thing.

Hangover?

I have 11 pages of my short story written! I mean right now they are scenes and such but with some nice polishing (and a few more pages) I think I will actually have something worth sending. For some reason I have some sort of writing mojo floating through my fingers and I have been pushing myself to finish this mess on time.

In all honesty going to grad school is only the half of it. I would like to return home. I miss my insignificant life there and my last year of college seemed unfinished. I was just getting into the groove of everything, I was just tapping into my potential and I feel like I left prematurely. This should not be a deciding factor but to be honest it is. I am not ready for the real world, or at least not my idea of it. At 23 I still miss being able to go to my mom's house where she caters to my appetite and lets me watch cable in her room. I miss it, I miss it.

I look forward to writing, and having an apartment. I look forward to seeing if this potential I have pays off and all that jazz. And because of this knowledge I am very excited and determined to get into school. So much that I have my mojo back. It feels grand.

Unfortunately, I decided a week ago that I would drink coffee to keep me up at night. The days when I have drunk coffee after six have been my most creative because I thumb out some good stuff in a very manic state. Yeah, I'm up until 3:30 in the morning but hey...what we do for art. Tuesday I decided to drink some coffee because Lenny is letting my have Wednesday off to write my stuff ( i told him about my deadline and he said it was cool for me to just come in on Friday's when the use me the most), and I figured I would have a productive writing day like I did on Monday.

I don't know what the fuck was wrong with this coffee (that i bought from work) but an hour later I was feeling ill, very ill. This feeling was not like my usual caffeine induced states. My body was unnaturally warm, my head throbbed like death, and I felt dizzy and nauseous. I barely hung in there that night and instead of writing late into the night I passed out in bed feeling like the world was ending around me.

The next morning my writing day did not go as planned. When I woke up I was paralyzed with a headache that was terrifying. By all accounts it was as if I woke up with a hangover. I was too weak to move, i still felt like throwing up and loud noises and bright lights were killing me. Turns out Coffee works the same way as alcohol in that it dehydrates you. This is what causes the headache and flu like symptoms or what some people call hangovers. I am suffering from a coffee hangover! Unfortunately I did not know this when I was chugging my coffee regular and if I would have known this I would have seriously considered drinking that coffee.

I still feel like crap. I would consider going to a doctor if I had the means or the money to do so, but I think he will just tell me that I am dangerously dehydrated. This f*cking sucks. I have to head into the city tomorrow and I hope that I have the energy for it. I may get some pages down tonight but this setback is a downer. I feel pathetic and sick and incapable of putting any sort of sentences together.

Blah.

Falling 'In Like".

I met a guy yesterday. A beautiful interesting guy. He name is Julian and I think I seriously might like him. Not in an imaginary '' I've put him on a pedestal way' but in the real way.

I was working at the cash register last night when Julian asked me a question about return policies. He was sort of lingering around because i was resting my head on the counter making it completely impossible to see me. When I lifted my head he made some joke as to him 'wondering briefly why a bookstore would have no one working at the register'. It was corny but funny and I explained that I didn't really like being up there but I volunteered.

He wanted to know about the return policies and after my by the book explanation he said thanks and offered me his hand...so I could give him a high five. Yes, I haven't given a legit high five in a very long time but Julian was cute and I was bored so I swung my hand in his direction and made contact with his open palm.

He came back a few minutes later with a brown leather bound journal with horrible bulky paper. It didn't have a barcode on it and he wanted to know if I could scan it and tell him the price. I was eating skittles at the time (which I am not suppose to do up at cash wrap) which I noted to him, as I struggled to speak with a red skittle in my mouth. The journal turned out to be 43 dollars. We both looked at each other as if it were a ridiculous amount and I mentioned that he was better off getting a Moleskin.

He said it's the journal he always uses because he is writing a novel but he couldn't find the journals in the store. Holy Shit. As soon as he said he was writing a novel, I blurted out that I was writing a short story. Luckily the Moleskin journals were located in talking distance of the cash register and we spent the next 10 minutes talking about writing. At this point I realized that Julian was very pretty (or I guess hot). I mean clearly he was a college student (beanie, book bag, philosophy book) but hot nonetheless. He told me about his story and I sort of told him about my short story while we raved about the efficiency of a moleskin journal.

Just as things were getting good I had to ring up a couple of customers. Shit. This took forever and by the time I was done I didn't know where Julian had gone. Of course he was still in the corner near the moleskins and we resumed our conversation. I liked Julian a lot. He was going on and on about writing and I don't even remember half of it but i told that he was cool and that I liked him and his writing stuff. Yeah, I said that out loud. Kill me know. When he left, I was sort of sad that I didn't have his number or at least his full name.

Why I can't I met more guys like that, preferably ones who are a little older then hot Julian (I think he was 19/20. Too young for me) but still with the nice artsy sort of vibe. I left thinking of our encounter all night and woke up thinking of it too. I am totally in like with him, I forgot how much I missed that feeling.

Anyway, enough of that...

One whole month until writing stuff is do. I have a story, a legit one, that I have been working on for days. I am so nervous and antsy at this point but I have to channel that energy and "Make It Work" as Tim Gunn would say. My boss freaked out yesterday when I told her of my plans. She suggested applying to a school in the area ( so I could work at the bookstore when I could). Decisions are hard to make but in regards to grad school just going alone is the right decision. I have realized that I can't write here. I mean some people can but it's too much for. The fact that everyone is writing. That everyone feels the sense of entitlement over their work, even when it sucks, bothers and stifles me to no end

I'd rather go away for 2 years, write away at my old school or at Chatham Unversity and just be in the craft. I have so much to learn and I am excited about being able to do so but I know I don't want to write here. It's just not for me.

Time to write. I have a crap load of things to do in a short amount of time.

Oh, and I am seriously obsessed with this band and song.

On Not Being A Good Friend.

I've decided to compromise. I am going to email Lenny and ask him if I can just intern once a week until I get all my grad school stuff in. Wednesdays are dreadful at my internship. I literally don't do anything and now with the new secretary (who is eye candy for all the men on the floor), I can't even sort the mail anymore.

I would rather just quit the whole thing but I hate bailing last minute. If i could intern on Friday (when I am used most) then I would say money and not feel like balling my eyes out every Wednesday because I am bored to death.

That sounds fair enough. Right?

In other news Angie's boyfriend is in town. He is about 5'1 and is giving everyone the creeps at work. He walks her to work, and then lingers around the store for awhile. During this lingering time we all get to critique and discuss him. My co-worker Josh came up to me yesterday and told me that he was afraid of her boyfriend. " he's just a little creepy". Though I have not been a good friend to her lately I refused to agree or disagree with him. He said he saw them making out in the aisle and because of the significant height difference he stares at her boobs more then her eyes. For Josh to say he is a freak is almost guarantees it.

I talked to her boyfriend briefly the other day and other than the lack of eye contact he makes he seems like an okay guy. This grad school stuff and horrible haircut followed by my lack of money and homesickness has put me in a mood though. I don't feel like doing much of anything and I would rather spend time by myself for a while. I don't really know how to explain this to her, so I keep making excuses as to why I can't hang out with her and her boyfriend.

For someone who hates bailing, I have certainly been doing a lot of it lately. I bailed this Monday on the whole MoMa thing and then I bailed today on the whole dinner thing. I said I would go to dinner with the both of them, but I seriously don't have the money to do anything besides dream of being able to afford dinner. So i made up some lame excuse about getting stuck in Brooklyn and that I wouldn't be able to make it on time. I think she is beginning to catch on, she called endlessly while I was on the train and I eventually had to turn off my phone.

I am beginning to think I am a horrible friend. I have a tendency of going AWOL when it isn't necessary.

I know. This makes me a horrible person but sometimes I hate pretending like the whole smells like roses. No matter how optimistic I am, I am wearing myself out and I wonder how long I can hang on. I am thinking of heading home for a week. I'd have to figure out which week and which mode of transportation I can afford to get there but...I just need to get away from this place. My mom put a dresser in my room, a white dresser that she says I can sand and repaint. She is luring me back big time and sometimes I am tempted to take her up on the offer.

Closing Time

I thought I would never get out of the bookstore tonight. Even though it was a pretty slow evening ,in regards to sales, the floor was trashed.

I spent much of my time in the kids department, where I shelved some books in between writing down phrases that made no sense outside of my own thoughts. Writing drives me crazy some days. I don't know what I am saying, or how it sounds out loud. I seriously need to get into a program or at least a workshop.

The last two days have been rough. On a good note I didn't quit my internship. I get like that sometimes, i freak out and I want to bail from a situation that isn't going quite how I imagined. But after a fun filled Friday where i train hopped and visited Brooklyn I realised that I have a pretty cool gig, even when it sucks. Plus Adam stopped by and his computer geekiness makes my heart pound.

On Saturday however after my great internship day, I got a horrible haircut that makes me feel less like a woman and more like a boy. It's severe and I have been wearing a bohemian scarf ever since to hide my displeasure with it. Along with my new short (short) do I am still pissed at Angie. Okay, pissed is not the right word. I am disappointed that she forgot my birthday, and I am more disappointed that her saying Happy Birthday (or in my case not saying it) means something to me. I pretty much ignored her calls until Thursday because I remembered that her boyfriend was flying into town and that she would need someone to talk to about it.

She sent me a text asking where I had disappeared too, and I replied with some bullshit "I've just been busy". Still forgetting the whole birthday thing she wanted to know I was still up for going to the MoMA. I suggested some weeks ago that we go to the MoMa as a birthday present to myself. My mom gave me money for my birthday to do what I pleased with it and I haven't been to a museum since i got here. If all looked good (I told her), I wouldn't mind paying for her ticket because I didn't want to go by myself and it would be a fun birthday thing.

After a few more conversations she wondered if her boyfriend (who at the time was thinking of coming down) could tag along. I said sure, of course, why should it bother me. I guess I didn't know if this meant I would pay for his ticket too but the closer it got to my birthday the more excited she was that I was treating them to a nice trip to the MoMa. What the Fuck?!?!?!

Lets do the math for a moment. MoMA admittance is 20 per person. A train ride to the city is 17.50 round trip/peak hours. So I would be spending a whopping $77.50 (my train ride + our admittance) to feel like a third wheel. Something is not right about this. For the last couple of days she had been bugging me about the museum. Her boyfriend is in town and he is totally excited about going. She knows that we both have tomorrow off and sees this as the perfect time to go to the museum. I do have tomorrow off. But I was not playing on heading into the city. I was not planning to do anything along those lines.

I was planning on going to the library, grabbing some books, buying a pizza pie from my favorite place and writing my story. That's my plan. It does not revolve around her or her boyfriend or an exhibit of Georgia O'Keefe (which is pretty amazing). It's going to be my day far removed from that.

I know that I would be the third wheel or worse I would feel so miserable that she would no longer want to be my friend. I have a tendency of bringing a room down with my sullenness, and I know that i would be so pissed at the situation I would not be good company.

I've been passive aggressive about the whole thing. I keep telling her that I have things to do but if my day lightens up a little I'll let her know. In all honesty though, when she calls I will ignore the ringing of my phone. I'm too broke, pissed and at a loss of hair to entertain anyone.

Good Luck

I have decisions to make. Decisions that are hurting my head.

Decision one revolves around my internship. After 6 weeks of...nothing, I think this may not be the place for me. I am the only intern without a specific task. I mean yesterday he asked me to sort the mail and this was after he asked me to open the closet. What for, I have yet to know.

I know an internship is suppose to suck. I am suppose to do tasks that a fourth grader could do. I actually don't mind those tasks. But it seems like besides opening and closing doors, I serve no real purpose and I am not learning ANYTHING! For 35 dollars a week, I sit at a desk waiting for Lenny to give me a task, and more often then not he has nothing for me. Nothing.

Yesterday all four interns were there and I was the only one without a specific thing to do. Eventually Lenny said he wanted me to make a visual representation of what images we do and don't have for this 2 year camera project. I spent the whole day collecting the dates information and then creating an excel spreadsheet of cataloguing what days pictures were successful taken in each month since 2007.

At the end of the day Lenny was "pleased" with what I made but wanted a more visual presentation. You know with colors and stuff, maybe even a graph. I have yet to figure out if I can catalogue dates for each month using a bar graph.

Regardless, I am seriously considering letting Lenny know that I am swamped with grad school stuff and that the opportunity there has been great but...I 'need to focus on getting my ass into school for a while'. My mom (who has listened to me bitch about this internship) is all up for me calling it quits there. Marie thinks it's a bad idea. That it won't look good on my resume.

I don't know. I am going to make a decision this weekend. I mean I feel like I already know what I am going to do but I'd like to weigh my options.

I'm going to get some sleep. My lids are very heavy and i have a long day in the city tomorrow.

P.S. I forgot how much I love this song!

Samantha Baker, Who?

So my birthday was uneventful. Not only was it uneventful but every friend I have made here totally forgot it was my special, even after I reminded them. Bummer

I was actually hurt by this. I had such a fun birthday last year with my mom, that i expected this year to be just as fun. I mean I have friends now, right? And that on some level means that on my birthday I should be allowed to relish in my special day.

Not the case. My family called right away. Even though the phone conversation weren't long, it was nice to hear from repeat birthday forgetters... my bother and uncle. They almost said the exact thing but it's the sentiment that counts. My mom was all over the birthday, I opened the package she sent me a couple of days ago and I hit the jackpot with Rock Band 2, Sims Bon Voyage, several new writing journals, and Ipod speakers. Oh Yeah.

My aunt had to go to work so it was Michelle and me for my birthday bash (lower case bash). Michelle does not understand the concept that you only receive one birthday a year and there is no sharing of birthday especially if you don't share they same day of birth. Regardless she entertained me with singing happy birthday to the both of us and she helped me open my presents.

My birthday hit a sour note after that. The northeast is being hit with a huge winter storm (what a way to bring in the month of march), and I was trapped inside for most of the day. But I didn't get any warm birthday messages from any of the people I have become friends with here. Okay that's a stretch, I got a few "Happy Birthday" text messages and facebook comments but very little in the wide scope of things. Angie texted me early in the morning, but not to wish me Happy Birthday. She wanted to know how closing went the night before. WTF? Even Abagail bailed on the whole 'it's my birthday thing' even though the night before she texted me to tell me she was going into the city to celebrate one of her friends birthday. In comparison to celebrating a friends bday in the city the lackluster "Happy Bday" text I received from her later on followed by complete silence for the rest of the day, just did not measure up.

I am beyond disappointed. If you know me outside of this blog, you would know that as a friend I do not ask for much. I don't want you to pay for the bill, or spot me a 5, or any of that shit. I only ask that remember that March 1st is my special day. That it was the day I was born. That it is the day that I want you to take the time out to say "hey. I'm glad you were born today". That's it.

A while ago (2 years to be precise) I posted a note that my friend,Aric, wrote me in the 8th grade. Me and Aric became friends after a girl he use to hang out with moved away. Before he became tall and hot he was a short geeky guy with glasses. We were friends for a couple of months when my Big Day came around and he totally forgot about it. It slipped his mind. Not that I didn't remind him also that my birthday was coming up. After that day I started to ignore him. I couldn't understand the nature of our friendship if he couldn't even take the time out to remember my day. I was upset that he forgot and this made me feel insignificant as his friend. A couple of days later he slipped me this note in homeroom and walked away. It said:

Dear Beckett,

I'm very sorry for what I did. I want to be friends with you a lot!! I miss talking to you in line at lunch, and in home room. Please don't hold a grudge against me. Friends don't do that =) ! Just ignore John. I'm very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very,very, very, very, very, very, very, very SORRY !!!PLEASE FORGIVE ME !!!*Huge smiley face** Enclosed is your late birthday present(which was a ring from Claires). SORRY!!!

Sincerely Aric"

After that day he remembered my birthday all the way until we graduated high school. And to make up for what happened in the 8th grade, he actually sent me on a scavenger hunt for birthday cards a couple of years later. I worked in my high school library so after school one day he asked the librarian if he could leave handmade birthday cards for me to find (via some clues he had given me). The first card was a small square one that fit in my palm, and the rest (because i found them in the correct order) grew in size until I found the last card that was as huge as a small poster. It was very nice of him and creative. I like handmade stuff, it means more to me.

The point is, my birthday is a big deal to me (and apparently only to me) , because it's seriously the one day I take into account how special I am to other people. And to not even have the acknowledgement is crushing...very crushing. I spent the rest of day sulking wondering about my importance to other people and coming to some conclusion that I don't matter to anyone outside of my immediate family and handful of real friends. It was crappy.

This is not to say that any of the people who called or sent sincere messages yesterday are valued less. They actually meant more to me then anyone would know. Those are the people who always have me in their thoughts and because of that I never have to worry about my importance. Everyone else though I am not really sure about and now I really don't have a fucking clue.

When my aunt came home she lifted my spirits. She ordered Italian from a place she thought I'd like. She brought the menu home for me to look over but she had already but a star by the Chicken Parmigiana because she knew I would order it. An hour later the three of us (Michelle, My Aunt, and I) were camped out on the couch watching America's Funniest Home videos and munching on our great dinner. We blew out my candles that were placed on the ice cream cupcakes she brought home and then we collapsed in a pool of our own gluttony. It was pretty amazing.

Despite the light at the end of a horrible day, I am in a mood now. I feel disconnected and on the verge of hiding under my covers. Angie and Abagail disappointed me the most and I feel like disappearing from both of them for a while. Because it's a physical representation of how I felt yesterday.

I didn't even get a cool Jake Ryan out of my birthday.

Here's to turning 23!

Technically...

I won't be 23 until 9;36 this morning. But who knows if I'll even be up by then. So,Happy Birthday to me.

I'm feeling sort of sad and lonely though. It is the first year i will be celebrating without my mom and for some odd reason I was mulling over the magnitude of the number 23 today. It feels insane to be a 23 year old. Like I don't know where time went or where it continues to go while I try to catch up.

I was putting some books away tonight and suddenly I started thinking "I just want to hang on to this a little while longer. I don't want everything to progress so fast". Even though it feels like it is.

Regardless of the apprehension at being another year older...Today I am 23 years old. I have made it this far without screwing my life up too badly. I think.

That's cause for a celebration.

Brooklyn Bound

Lenny has no idea what to do with me.



When he isn't giving me an exasperated look because I don't know anything about Mac computers, he seems disinterested in me being there. It's sort of a bummer because I was so excited about this internship in the beginning.



After calling out sick on Wednesday I dragged myself to the internship with the intention of making this thing work. Everyone keeps telling me that I have a cool gig. I mean besides the not getting paid to be there thing. For the most part I get to do semi-productive work in a cool loft in Soho where my boss who resembles Lenny Kravitz listens to music from the 80's. The other interns don't particularly suck and on my lunch break I get to watch the neighborhood teens play Butts Up (I swear it's a game) on the court right around the corner. In all honesty it could be a lot worse.



For some reason though Lenny and I have not clicked they way I thought that we would. He seems awkward around me while I try to make him feel at ease with my stupid musings. But not even that is working and sometimes i feel like he would rather I be anywhere else then near him where I ask questions about why the Mac doesn't have a 'My computer folder' or a visible toolbar.



Today I spent more time outside of the office then actually in it. I am hoping that this does not represent his need to not see my face. But nevertheless traveling around the city makes the day go by a lot faster. The city is infectious and on days when the sun is out and the wind is blowing you feel like you never want to leave. You forget that you can't afford the place, that the real contentious people living there are assholes and distant, and that for the most part the city has screwed you over in one way or another. You forget all of that because the accents are cool, the one guy or girl who is nice becomes your friend for life, and the city is just too damn beautiful to let all that other shit get in the way. Of course I forgot my camera and couldn't take any pictures of the places I went today or of the people I met.


It's late and I wish I could describe it all but I am exhausted. To sum my day up in a nutshell

-I flirted with an old guy (like grandfather old) who wanted to take me to Atlantic City where we would play black jack and see a show. His name was Jack and he was convinced I was his lady luck. He was nice, and it was a once in a lifetime encounter, so I didn't mind the attention.

-I hailed a cab for the first time ever. This of course was after I contemplated going back to the office and asking if I could just get the number for a cab to pick me up. I soon realized that was not a possibility and started waving my arm at any yellow cab that came my way.

-I avoided any and all roofs, but I spent a lot of time on the subway. I went uptown and then downtown and then back again. I was in the fashion district and saw a lot of well dressed people my age smoking cigarettes while wearing garbs inspired by who knows.

-I made several trips to a camera repair store where I fell in love with a guy wearing an argyle sweater. I of course was sent there to buy a $500 dollar piece of equipment but it didn't stop me from getting all nervous and weird around him.

-I received a phone call from the old guy Jack (did I mention I may or may not have given him my phone number. It's a really long story but come on, who thought he would call!). He wanted to know if I was serious about Atlantic City. I told him I wasn't sure. I'm not that much of a lady luck.

-I then was sent to Brooklyn. I took the C train to West 4th, where I transferred to the F downtown to Brooklyn. It's a whole different place. I thought people were kidding but...no. Brooklyn is different. Lenny was shocked that I had never been there. He keep waiting for me to say "just kidding I go there all the time". He thinks Brooklyn is better then Manhattan, because it's "authentic man". Whatever the case, at 6 o'clock at night when you have no idea where you are going or why there is nothing cool or authentic about Brooklyn. I was nervous because I kept trying to remember if the double homicide mentioned on the news the night before had occurred in Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, or Manhattan. Before I left Lenny was trying to find me the fastest route back to Grand Central, he knew that the G would possibly take me there but suddenly he grew serious at the thought. "Don't take the G" is all he said, "I'm serious".

I'm one of those people who needs a reason why not to do something. If there is a red button in a room and you tell me not to touch it, I will want to touch it because I don't know what the said button will do. So telling me not to ride the "G" will make me want to ride the "G". So I asked him why I shouldn't take that train and he answered with what can only be described as pure terror "because it'll take you to Queens". No offense to anyone who lives there.

It was a long trip, and I was wedged in between a guy doing a crossword puzzle and a lady reading a book. When I got to my stop neither of them were to thrilled in having to suspend both activities to let me get through. I get overwhelmed quickly and as soon as I stepped outside I was convinced that the double homicides had occurred in Brooklyn (it didn't). I got lost trying to find Matt the intern, so i could give him whatever supplies he needed. I called him on the cell and he found me standing a good block or two from the building.

I didn't get home until 8, and then I went to get dinner with Angie. I was not good company though because I kept yawning while trying to keep my eyes open. It was a busy day but very fun. Tomorrow I have to buy my mom her birthday presents ( I wish I wasn't so broke) and then I have to work from 5-closing.

Sunday is the big day. I hear it is suppose to rain and snow. A weatherman said it is going to be a 'A wintry mess". Just the way I like it. Time for bed I don't know how I've hung on this long.

Strange Condition.

I am sickly. Or tired. Or maybe just a fine balance of both. Who knows.


Yesterday I had to work from 9-5. This schedule bothers me because it's the generic working man reference to having to be at a place for a duration of time to make money. I mean there's a Dolly Parton movie with this reference as a title. 9-5 scares me, I want a career where these two numbers have no meaning to me outside of 'I'm glad i don't have to work a 9-5 shift. Ever'.

When I got to work I wasn't feeling well. My head hurt, my body was warmer then usual and my throat felt weird. I love that at 22 I am aware of my body. I know when I am getting sick based on symptoms that only I know. Needless to say by 11 I didn't feel well at all, I didn't want to leave early so I toughed it out until 5 o'clock.

I am not use to frigid cold. I am not use to the how violent the wind is combined with temperatures in the low teens. I don't think my body is accustomed to it, and due to my long encounters with the cold weather I think my body is shutting down. It's asking for me to take a break or at least stay inside for a while. Luckily i have a day off, and I do not plan to even step outside to get the mail.

If I don't feel well by tomorrow, I am going to call Lenny and say that I can't come in. I am in no shape to be hanging out on roofs or running errands around the city all day. I couldn't bare it. I am considering looking into a different internship. Yes I was hella excited that I got this one, but I feel like I shouldn't be there.Outside of Camera-Gate 2009, I'm not really learning anything. I am spending almost 40 dollars a week to surf the Internet and make calls to frustrated Fed-ex people in New Jersey. Learning something would totally be an adequate compensation, but for most of the day (when I am not fucking things up) Lenny is trying to come up with things for me to do.

I feel like wasted space there. I mean I know internships are not luxurious, I wouldn't have signed up for one if it was. I am low on the totem pole which I don't mind. I like having to prove myself. It's exciting. But because I don't have any production experience, I don't even think I am on the pole. I think I standing outside of it, 2 miles down the road. All the other interns have specific things to do, while I am always the one asking 'so whats next'. This makes me nervous because i believe the answer is 'well...nothing, but hang around and something may pop up'. Regardless, I am going to stick it in until April 1st (or until they let me go because of Camera-Gate) but for tomorrow I physically cannot go. Traveling alone is a hassle, I couldn't imagine having to exert any more energy.

Anyway, enough about my sick body.

My birthday is this Sunday, if you can believe it.I actually forgot about it. No lie. I mean I didn't forget that I have a birthday, but February went by so fast I didn't realize this Sunday would be my special. I have no idea what I am going to do. My aunt is taking me out for dinner and buying me a book. My mom is depositing money in my account so I can buy clothes or spend the day visiting a museum. Hunter, the guy at work, is bringing me candy so I can indulge freely in my sweet tooth. Angie and Abagail want to take me out for lunch and to a movie. It sounds like it may be a busy day.

Who can believe that I am turning 23. Just a couple of days ago I was going over the my older songs on Itunes and reflecting back on my teenage years, where 23 looked a lot different then it does now. According to my music library, I was much cooler than I thought, besides the being a dork thing. I had Pete Yorn, The Strokes, Billy Idol, Mazzy Star, Billy Talent, Saves the Day, Danzig, Tori Amos, Joan Osborne, Tonic, and Nirvana in my collection. That's a pretty good mix for someone not out of high school yet. I think.

I'm not sad to be growing older, but I do miss (on some level) being younger. I do miss going to school and coming home to my mom and dinner. I miss wanting responsibilities but knowing that at 17 I didn't have any. I miss my room. I was into Spain when I was 17, and because of this I was convinced I had some Spanish blood in me. My room was decked out in an old world Spanish decor and I bought several cd's to accompany the mood. I miss driving and wanting to escape. I miss hating high school. I miss that stuff. Cause that's the one thing I can't grab back. That's the one thing that remains constant and yet so far removed from my life today.

I'll be 23 this Sunday, and I am not sure I am ready for it. I don't know what it has in store for me.

~Becks

Oh, and who knew that an album with Robert Plant and Alisson Krauss would not suck as bad as I thought. 'Polly Come Home' is by far my favorite song on the album. The album and song is not for everyone. But I like it,there is something raw and beautiful about it. It gives me chills.

Qouting Shakes Does Not Get You Far.

A couple of days ago I was shelving some books in the humor aisle and along came a person I would rather not see or talk to. While I was deciding where the book "Grandama's Dead" should go, I heard the familiar and very grating voice call my name.

The Janitor (the saga continues) wanted to tell me about some program he had created for a friend of his. He sent this program to her through email and he thought that I (because I am a 'writer' and all) would find it interesting.

He explained to me that he had compiled a handful of love quotes which opens periodically on your computer. Or something like that. Angie said it sounded like he just made a PowerPoint presentation of quotes. I don't know who to believe.

I told him that could be kind of interesting and then I started to walk away. As I was walking away he wanted to recite one of the quotes for me. Said quote happened to be by William Shakespeare and in my only form of excitement I said "so, is it a sonnet?"

In a moment that still perplexes me, The Janitor looked at me as if he had no idea what a sonnet was. I mean I'm not an expert on sonnets but I know the William Shakespeare was pretty famous for writing some. And if you are going to recite a love quote by Shakespeare to a girl who likes literature then maybe knowing that there are such things as sonnets could help. Just a little.

'No it's just a quote".

And.So.It.Goes.

I let him recite the sonnet, and I said 'that's pretty cool' once he was done breaking Shakespeare professors heart all around me. After he was done reciting the sonnet he looked at me as if he deserved a pat on the back. I wanted to ask him to apologize to Shakespeare immediately for butchering the sonnet and for not realizing that it was one.

I mean maybe the love passage he was quoting wasn't a sonnet, maybe it was. But to not even know baffles me. To memorize the quote, recite it to a complete stranger, and then expect some form of 'that was really beautiful" is ridiculous. Especially when you don't know what a sonnet is. Though he claims to be an expert.

Boys are troubling. Very troubling.

In So Much Trouble.

I had a bad day. I know I had a bad day because at the end of said terrible day I played 'So much trouble' on my Ipod about a million times (or at least until my ears cried tears).

Remember the whole roof incident. Well despite being locked on the roof for four hours, crying on the phone to a boy named Adam, and almost freezing to death...Lenny sent my back up to the roof today for round two.

The roof and I have a clear understanding. We do not like each other. When I go on the roof bad things happen. It's just fact.

Though I was not locked on the roof today, I may or may not have moved the still camera, which we are not suppose to move! And by move I mean I may have totally shifted the camera from it's originally position because I am clumsy and was so freaked out by last weeks incident that my hand slipped and touched the camera.

Holy shit. It's the one thing we are not suppose to do. Don't touch the camera! It's rule number 1, 2 and 3. And I fucking touched it. I was mortified once I realized what had happened, i quickly pushed it back to where I thought it was and cursed myself silly for the next 5 minutes.

I didn't tell anyone what happened, simply because I decided (quickly) to take the chicken way out of it. I could hear the French Directors voice in my head "don't touch the fucking camera" and then I could see myself trying to explain that I had. I touched it. Moved it. Shifted it.

Shit.

I spent the rest of the day avoiding eye contact and smiling tentatively when someone looked my way or called my name. I don't know if this place is for me. I mean outside of my big mistake today...I don't know why i am there. Sometimes I spend an hour staring at a screen not because i have to but because I want to look like I am doing something.

And now with this whole incident brewing on my conscious, I am fearful of what will happen. I am frightened that I have messed up a two year project and that the blame for camera-gate 2009 will not be place on the person who sent inexperienced me up there. I am frightened that I will lose this internship even though I don't particularly like it. I am frightened that French Director will give me a profanity laced scolding when he notices that the pictures do not align. I am frightened because I feel like I am screwed...maybe not today but one day in the near future.

My head hurts. I bought cheesecake today so I can eat an unhealthy amount of food and drown my fears away. Oh, and the Matt Pond PA song is still on heavy rotation:

I don't think i want to think about it

how the fall is coming down

the light is leaving and it's hard to breathe

buried in a pile of leaves

we don't want to ever change

we don't want to make mistakes

i hand the finger to my fate

he doesn't know me and he cannot see that far

nights get so long and cold, fewer places we can go,

you're in so much trouble, can't hide in your covers.

In The Cut

Grad school stuff is due in less then two months. Argh. I don't feel as unprepared as I was last year, but still my stress level is pretty high. I am going to submit a chapter or two from my 'loneliness' story which should be an adequate assessment of my writing.

I like the concept of the story so far. But that's what I say about all of my stories in the beginning. Before I get caught up in trying to complicate it with dare i say...action. Sometimes the use of action and intent puzzles me about narratives. I wonder if there needs to be an absurd amount of overt exciting event after exciting event to make a story...work.

I am a fan of nuances, subtlety (if you can believe it) and characters. Sometimes simplicity is much more honest than action. Just like in the movies. Sometimes I would rather watch a movie about a character and how they interact with whatever situation they are in. Not specifically a intense situation but subtle ones that effect their every day life (growing up, unexpected death, family issues, and loneliness). I mean don't get me wrong I am looking forward to Transformer 2 and the new Terminator movie too, but sometimes movies about people (In the Bedroom, Imaginary Heroes, and That Night) compel me the most.

Between my job, internship, and burgeoning social life, finding the time to get all these grad school requirements completed is hard. I have two days off this week (yesterday and today) but once 12 o'clock rolls around my day goes by so fast I can barely even call it a day off. Angie wants to hang out later on today, but for the first time in a long time I am not feeling up to it. Not because I don't have a lot of fun with her, but I sort of want to stay in bed.

I have reasons for this. Ever since I started this writing career thing, I notice that I am required to do a lot of reading. Not even really required, but my writing school as of this moment consists of reading a lot of material from contemporary and older writers. To get a sense of how stories work, I sort of use previous narratives as my guide. I concentrate on what works for me as a reader to understand writing. I don't know if that makes any sense.

Whatever the case, I am reading a lot. I use to read a couple of stories a week when I was younger. This number has decreased drastically since high school and I am now once again finding my passion for reading. I think they (writing and reading) have to go hand in hand. In order for me to write I have to be able to read critically. Or something like that.

I am running low on money, which has put a halt to buying a book every week. Yesterday I went to the library with a list in my hand and picked up some books I have wanted to read for some time. The trip was semi successful. I forgot to look for Under the Volcano and Nausea (two books I always start reading but never finish). In the end I picked up The Crying Lot of 49, some Joan Didion books, and a book called Goodbye Lemon. The selection is pretty good, and I don't want to leave my small space and enter the real world today. I would rather take some time with the individual text along with dabbling in my own scattered work.

I just finished In the Cut by Susanna Moore. At work, employees are now getting their own endcaps for a month. If you walk into a bookstore endcaps are the displays located at the end of a shelf. The books cascade down from said shelf based on a theme. These themes are mostly promotional, so said endcap and said books on endcap can be found in any bookstore (affiliated with this company).

However, last month the managers suggested that we have encaps dedicated just to the employees. Only three employee endcaps (along with the required endcaps) would go up a month, but we would be able to put up books that we like. For some reason we are all excited about this. We do not get to be individuals in this store. We can't talk about politics, money, religion, or personal preferences out loud (though that does not stop us from trying). So being able to have our own endcap for a month with books that will no doubt give customers some insight into who we are as people...is pretty damn exciting.

I remembered seeing In The Cut, a few years ago late at night. It's an erotic thriller starring Mark Ruffalo and Meg Ryan. I don't know if I liked it because I knew it was something I shouldn't be watching or if because I really like the story line. Whatever the case, my endcap is going up in two days and I wanted to put this book on it. Of course, I hadn't really read the book but I figured it could be a potential candidate as long as I finished the book before my endcap went up.

I was instantly turned off from the book after a couple of pages. It made (makes) me uncomfortable. The sex is graphic, the characters are raw and uninhibited. As a reader I felt like a voyeur, watching a very violent act occur but being powerless to do anything but gasp and walk away. I was tempted to return the book after the first 30 pages. I searched all over for the receipt and when I found it I placed in the book as a bookmark so I would know where it was when it came time to return it.

For two days the book sat there, on the floor, where I stared at it with interest and disgust. And after my horrible Friday I had convinced myself that the book had given me bad luck. But I was compelled to read it, even outside of being repulsed by it. Outside of how unabashed Frannie and Jimmy (the teacher and the cop) are the story is beautifully written. It has voice, purpose and dare I say intent. A part of what turned me off about the book, was that it turned me on (in a non sexual way). Most of us are repressed individuals who act out of fear rather then pleasure. But the two characters are not repressed individuals. Jimmy is pretty much a masochist (very masculine except for his 'girly hands) and Frannie is...willing (delicate yet experienced). Murders are occurring around her, she may be a target, he may be the murderer (though he is the detective on the case) and throughout their intense relationship both of them are aware of this, and yet both of them continue to act out this awareness through sex.

Brilliant.

I want someone to talk to about books. Not only about this book but every book. I like Angie because she likes talking about books and analyzing them with me. But I don't think she gets into the analyzing thing as much as I do. I can literally go for an hour discussing one specific book in an attempt to understand it. When we hung out the day before I just wanted to talk about this book and nothing else. I kept talking to her about it as if she had read it (which she hadn't) and I was disappointed that I couldn't give my analysis to her appropriately because she didn't know what i was talking about.

Anyway.

I just finished In the Cut today, and I was very sad to put it away and add it to my collection of books that I have read. I don't know if i'll put it on my endcap but I enjoyed the read.

Next on my list is Run River by Joan Didion. Should be interesting. I really need to focus on my story and am hoping I can do both (read and write) at the same time without complicating my role as the audience and as the writer. We'll see.

"I'd Like To Get Down Now"

So. Yeah. About the whole roof thing.

I go to my internship every Wednesday and Friday. For the most part I am surfing the Internet and sometimes doing some post production related stuff. I am the only girl in the office who has no idea what she is doing, and Lenny has been patient about this. I do a lot of the research stuff, administrative task, and sometimes manual labor. But I'm cool with it.

On Wednesday i met the other two interns working there. One has been there since this summer. He has already been inducted into the 'cool people club' and they trust him with tasks outside of the office. The other intern, Mat (with one 't') started the same time I did, and he has some proving to do himself.

The director is documenting a building that is being constructed from the ground up. It is literally right next door, and it gives him complete access to the building. He has set up three cameras located in the city to take a picture of the buildings construction every 3 minutes. He and Lenny have been doing this for 2 years, and the effect is pretty awesome. Once you paste all the images together, you literally can see a building being built in a matter of minutes. One of the intern responsibilities is to check that the cameras are working in order for the project to be a success.

So, while the other two interns were there, Lenny thought it was a good time for us to learn how to check the cameras, just in case we ever had to do it. The three cameras are located on rooftops in the vicinity of the massive 20 plus story building of his interest. Lenny sent us to learn about the camera with his IT friend Adam who does freelance work there a couple of days out of the week. At first I did not like Adam, he was standoffish and aloof. But New Yorkers are apparently always standoffish at first, especially when strange new girls are hired to do grunt work in a cool office.

However, on Wednesday Adam was really cool. He is very smart, easy to talk to, and down to earth (though he has that neurotic new york thing where he talks really fast about everything!). I smell a potential crush in the works. The four of us made our way across the street, up 12 floors and a flight of stairs until we reached the roof. The camera was locked in a box located on the edge of the roof. Adam gave us a tutorial of what we would have to do, should we ever need to come up there. I was paying attention but the box was too high for me to see in, so I didn't really know what he was talking about. And he sort of has that IT approach to everything, calling things 'simple' and 'easy to do' because he as done it a million times.

I figured I wouldn't be assigned this task because of the small situation with being unable to see inside the box. Needless to say I was very shocked on Friday after I completed my usual tasks when Lenny told me that I had to go back to that building (alone because I am the only intern who works on Friday) and check the camera. You should have seen my face. I was mortified and scared and I let Lenny know that I wasn't able to see in the box which made learning things about the task very difficult. He told me it was really 'simple' and wouldn't take that long. All i would have to do is check the camera, and grab the hard drive. "that's it, you can't mess this up". He handed me a crate I could take with me, so I could stand on it and get access to the contents in the box.

It was very windy Friday, and this did not make the situation any easier. I carried my crate and book bag across the street and made my trip up the elevator and stairs by myself. It did not occur to me that the door to the roof would lock after me. I was hesitant to even open the door because there was a "will alarm once activated" sticker was on it. I was going to call Lenny and tell him that the door was locked and I had no way to get on the roof. Instead I braced myself for a horrible alarm noise and just opened the door. There was a moment of relief when the door opened and no alarm sounded. The winds were so terrible on the roof the door slammed shut even before I had a chance to wonder if it would lock behind me.

I opened the box and finally had a visual of what I was working with. Of course this visual was like rocket science, because I had no idea of what anything was. The wind was causing me to shake on the crate and though I was far from falling off the roof, the thought that a gust of wind could send me over caused paralyzing fear. I sat everything down, grabbed my cell phone and decided to give Lenny a call and tell him that I had no idea what I was doing. I walked to the door, pulled once and thought maybe I forgot to turn the knob. After four more tugs and turns I realized that I had locked myself on the roof. Without a jacket, with gusts of wind throwing me about and no sight of another exit.

I called Lenny and first explained that I had no idea what anything was (in regards to the contents in the box). That it all looked like hogwash to me. He said he was going to kill Adam because he should have taught us the steps thoroughly on Wednesday.

"It's not Adams fault. I just couldn't see in the box, the day before that's all. Oh....and by the way. I'm kind of locked on the roof. So if you can be all up on that "getting me off the roof thing" It would totally be cool ".

Yes I said "be all up on that". It seemed necessary

I expected Lenny and his cool yellow shoes to come to the rescue. I expected him to drop the phone admittedly and be on his way to open the damn door so I could get off the damn roof. I expected a lot. Instead Lenny said "I can't really leave the office.' The director' isn't here, and someone needs to be here to answer the phone". My heart sank. " I'll come over and soon as he gets back from his meeting but until then..."

"I just have to chill"

"Pretty much"

I didn't think this would be hard. I mean besides the wind I was sort of safe on the roof as long as I didn't get too close to the edge. But when I say the wind was bad, I mean it. I had no gloves, no jacket and I was wearing flats. The clothes that I did have on were very "walk in the park" spring wear. By the 15 minutesmark I was freezing up there. My hands were already losing color, I was shivering like no one else's business, and the wind was smacking me in the face. I tried to keep warm by jumping, talking out loud and snapping pictures. I would occasionally bang on the door to get the people's attention on the 12th floor. I called Marie, just in case, and told her that i was stuck on a roof. I couldn't call my mom. I wouldn't have called her.

Another 40 minutes passed, and by this point I was drowsy and freaking out. Lenny never called me back, I was near tears, and I seriously thought I was going to die. I couldn't think straight, I wanted to lay down, I started to lay down but then I remembered if I went to sleep I wouldn't have any control of waking back up. My body was shutting down. Even the shivering became numb. I started to think that the building was swaying and that I would topple off the edge. I started estimating how far 13 stories really is. I worried about planes flying too low, or me getting too close to the edge and just stumbling over. I started thinking but none of it made sense.

By then i had taken a seat on the floor, I propped my book bag up like a pillow and put my head down. But quickly i nixed that idea and got up. Instead of laying down, I literally got up from where i was sitting and decided to beat the hell out of the door. By beating the hell out of, I mean I took my numb fist and started going at the door like it owed me money. I saw some industrial items laying around (a pipe, some bricks, and paint supplies) and decided that if beating the door wasn't going to work I would break the window. Yes, the window probably cost more then my whole life but it would get me inside and I wouldn't freeze on top of a roof.

Besides Lenny and Marie no one else knew I was up there. The next bout of construction guys wouldn't be back until Monday and by then....I'm just saying. That frightening thought ran through my mind the whole time I was up there. I am all alone up here, and if I had left my cell I would have been in worse trouble than I was in then. No one would take notice that I was gone until it was too late, and I had already succumb to something. So I grabbed the pipe and used that instead to wail on the door. My shivering was uncontrollable and I couldn't get proper aim, so I had to swing my whole body and hit which exhausted much of my energy.

I was minutes away from swinging at the window when it finally opened. On the other side was a construction worker who gave me the "what the hell are you doing up here look". I couldn't explain because talking was rough. I crashed unto the floor and when i was able to I tried to explain my story in between my shivering voice. He listened, looking from me (cold, shivering, pruned) to the door (beat up) and said these words:

"You know there's a rope to hold it open".

Yeah asshole. I just wanted to be locked on a roof for an hour. Thanks. He finally asked me if I was okay after showing me the rope and how to prop the door open. I said that I was, just freaked out a little, cold and possibly suffering from some stage of hypothermia. I sat for 15 minutes, glued to the floor and trying to breathe. It hurt to breathe as if my air passage had decreased some.

I wish that this would have been the end of my ordeal. Just when I was heading back to the office, Lenny finally called. I told him that I got off the roof to which he replied 'that's cool'. He was not calling to check on my well-being, he still wanted me to check if the camera was working and called to give me Adam's phone number (because Adam was in another location) so he could walk me through the steps.

For the next three hours I was on the phone with Adam who was hella patient as he tried to get me off the roof as fast as possible. His IT training helped a lot, while I was freaking out on the phone with him. I was still freezing, it was still gusty outside, and I was standing on a crate inches away from falling to the ground. Easy tasks were very complicated and I just couldn't concentrate on anything he was saying. In between his "it's okay you can do this" I kept repeating "I'm so cold Adam. I. can't. do.this. Please get me off this roof. I'd like to get down now". He kept repeating that he was sorry in between my rambling and suggested that i just do the best that I could even if that meant putting everything back in the box and heading back to Lenny.

In between our conversation my hands were not cooperating. They were shaking and blue and numb to the point of pain. I was incoherent and all I remember telling him is "I'm going to hang up and call you later".

"Okay." He said with some concern. He just kept repeating Okay while I kept telling him I was going to hang up "I'm. Just. So Cold. Adam". So, I hung up the phone. Went inside and cried. When I regained composure , I called him back and we finally got the damn camera thing to work. I told him I deserved a present or something for being stuck up there too long. "like a nice new phone" he laughed, because he is obsessed with the newest phone technologies. He talked about his new phone for an hour on Wednesday and wanted us to see everything it could do. I mentioned that I hate my new phone and he gave me a list of some I should consider.

"maybe a new phone will work." I said " But I would settle for hot tea or something".

Four hours later, I returned to the building with the stupid Hard drive and seriously suffering from some level of hypothermia. Lenny was talking on the phone with Adam (who was probably voicing his concern for me and the state of the camera) and gave me a "sorry i sent you up there for no reason" look. I dropped the crate on the floor and went to the bathroom. I felt like I was going to throw up because my stomach was cramping up and my head hurt.

I think my crush for Lenny has all but gone away. At the end of the day it's camera equipment and project before your interns well-being. I seriously don't want to go one any more roofs for a while. No lie.

I have been resting ever since. I had to go to work yesterday and I was suppose to go to my dads today but I am just not up for anything but sleep and warmth.

Did I Succumb to Death?

So guess who almost died today. On a roof. 13 stories high. I. Shit. You. Not

I will go into this more after I recover from the slight trauma of today's event. I cannot even begin to explain the horrify hours I spent up there.

Lets just say I almost froze to death on this (yes this) building today after I accidentally locked myself on the roof. In between the crying and kicking of the door, I decided to snap these photos.

I'm usually a fan of Friday the 13th, but this day can suck it. For all days to come. I promise I will explain more but I am freaked out, shivering, tired and am so happy to be in bed. A bed that is located on the floor. How lovely the floor is.

No One Belongs Here More Than You

I had a good quiet day.

I wish I had more days like this one. Where I wake up, do my laundry, make food for myself from scratch, watch recorded TV shows, and write while listening to alt rock. My days have been busy and stressful, and I barely find time to squeeze in any of the things I like.

I am applying to grad school. Slowly that is. I know what is required of me (GRE, Recommendations, Statement of Purpose, yadda yadda) but life just seems to be getting in the way. I am excited to invest in this whole writing thing. Grad school is the right choice for me, I know this for sure. I can be more than just someone who wants to write. I can feel like I can actually do it. That I have a voice and perspective that people may want to hear.

I'm am not always looking forward to heading back to my old school though. I like it here. I like it here a lot, and though I don't doubt I can make something of myself there, there are moments when I want to stay right where I am. Right where I feel like I belong. I wish the situation were different as in, I wish i could afford my own place, I and had another job then my bookstore one..but I still want to stay here. When it comes down to it, I wish that was a possibility.

Applying to another grad school has crossed my mind. I mean hey, there are a crap load of schools with writing programs that are pretty good but there is that fear of rejection which could set me back a couple of more months. I feel like if i just get into this program I could still intern in New York during summer or any of my other long breaks. I could still participate in my world here even if I am far far away. I don't know.

I went to dinner with Abagail tonight who just returned from a four day trip to Canada. She bought me a book bag (it's Canadian y'all) that she thought I would like since I have to travel in the city and all (and I fear getting my big clunky bag mugged). Dinner was nice. It's what people my age do, and in my old school hanging out with friends wasn't even an option. Unless you count Mike and Katherine. I was in such a different place there and I was such a different person. OK, that's a stretch, I was not a different person but i was trapped internally because I never felt like I could express myself. I never felt like I could be the person that I wanted to be.

I have that problem here too. I mean, I am extroverted out with activities and people, but I miss the internal dialogue that kept me grounded and connected. Where the hell is that balance. Where the hell is all my time going. When the hell did i become an adult. A kind of adult with responsibilities and choices. Being an adult sucks, i don't recommend it to anyone.

I have a lot to do in the next 4 months. I have to figure out where I want to be and what i want to be doing. I know I am only 22 but I feel like I should have my shit together. But then I realize that no one has their shit together. I can't name one person that I know who has any idea where their life is going and then I wonder why I try so hard to make sense of any situation when it seems like everyone just ends up going with the flow any way.

I hate facebook and myspace. There is always that one (or two) person you befriended because you spoke to them once in class and felt it necessary to befriend them. There is this one such girl named Sarah who I met during an American History class. We ended up a group once and she was pretty cool. She had a unique fashion sense (which is rare in Small Town USA) and I may have complimented on her that. Anyway she recently graduated and got accepted to F.I.T. Every so often there is that damn update on her life and times in NYC. Through her posted pictures and such her life looks so damn amazing and easy. She decided to come to New York and become a fashion designer. So she did, and now she probably lives in Greenwich with her cool boyfriend with the weird name while she works as fashion consultant/ shopper for some high end clothing store. I mean I don't know if this is the case, but I feel that is so.

I wish I was 'that' girl. Not that 'Miss Sara' has all her shit going on, but in my mind she probably does. She probably isn't worrying about anxiety or depression or where the hell she'll be in a few years. She isn't like me or anyone of my friends who are constantly teetering on the idea of how we have gotten to this place in our lives where indecisiveness is a daily thing.

I think to0 much. I should stop doing that some times. My birthday is in a few weeks. I am turning 23! Geez where has the time gone. I am want to go to the Guggenheim possibly. I haven't been to a museum since I got here, and I wouldn't mind doing something totally nerdy. I plan on bringing my camera and everything for extra nerdy points. I don't know. We'll see. I don't know how much the ticket will be or if anyone has that day off to go with me.

Time to for bed. I have to get up early and get on the express train with a bunch of old men in suits. Not as hot as I thought it would be.

~Becks

I'm Just Not That Into You

Drinking is not fun kids. Seriously.



I planned on having a productive Sunday. It was one of my only 2 days off this week, and besides doing some laundry (which I find relaxing), I planned on filling out my financial aid form, providing more character descriptions for my loneliness story, and getting in some sleep. A lot of sleep.



But after seeing He's Just Not That Into You (Justin Long is adorable), my first real adult drink took me out of commission all day Sunday. I now have a sense of what a hangover feels like and I'm Just Not That Into It.

My head hurt the whole day. The whole "having a Sunday to myself" came crashing down because my aunt's 'baby daddy" (who was suppose to take Michelle for the whole day) bailed out at the last moment. This meant that bright lights weren't the only thing causing my head to pound. Michelle learned the "Potty song" at school and spent a lot of her time singing it at the top of her lungs. I had an aneurysm because of this.



I got through it though. Michelle usually plays in the living room, and the room i am staying in has a perfect view of all her activities. So for most of the day I lay in bed, resting by the door just in case she decided to grab a pair of scissors of something. When my aunt came home I figured this would give me ample time to rest my throbbing head but she wanted to go over design ideas for the new place (though lack of funds prevent any of this). So I went over what we should do for wall colors and slip covers though I ached to much to really give a damn.



By the time that ended my mom called and we watched the Pre-Grammy show and talked about everyone. I think I got to bed around midnight but my head doesn't hurt like hell this morning. Thank God.



Last week was insane. I worked six days straight. From my four day schedule at the bookstore to my 2 day schedule at the internship I am pushing the limits of exhaustion. My internship is going ...OK. I know, 'OK' is such a blah word to describe an internship of a movie nerds dream. But, I am the only girl sort of working in that company (besides another girl named Stephanie but she is pretty much a dude with long hair). Though I like hanging around guys they are tight nit group to join. You have to break in before you are welcomed with opened arms, but the breaking in part is tricky. I obviously don't have a penis, which automatically makes boys nervous and cautious.



Besides the not having a penis thing, I am not as computer savvy as I thought. Unless you count expertise with Microsoft Word and surfing the Internet I don't know anything about computers. Or more importantly I don't know anything about Mac computers or any of the related software. I did not sugar coat my inexperience during the interview. I was open with him about my lack of skills but told him that I was a quick learner (which I have proven to be in the last few weeks). But my inexperience means that i doing more administrative stuff then movie making stuff. I am updating contact information, looking for potential people to interview via the Internet and hanging out by myself all day.



I have my own computer out in the lobby, and sometimes my only interaction are with the delivery people. The loft is huge, and there are several different companies located on our floor. Even with all the people, everyone stays to themselves. They only come out for coffee or lunch. And unless you already have a familiarity with these people you are pretty much by yourself ALL DAY. I did learn two new programs though: After Effects and Mac Grab. I am glad that i will be learning more stuff to fill out my resume but I feel like if i had one (just one) office friend it would make traveling all the way to the city a lot more fun.



Who knows. They haven't canned me yet. It is something I fear every day.



The bookstore job is still going well. I feel like an actress there. It took me a while to break into that group too, but now that I have, it has made work a lot more fun these last 2 months. The whole 'Porter' thing has gotten out of hand. He still talks about me to other people, more importantly to my friend Angie, as if we had something and it just didn't work out. When we went out to eat on Saturday (before the movie) she told me that 'Porter' came up to her at work again and began the conversation with 'so you know the whole Beckett and me thing didn't work out'. There was never a thing to be worked out. I brought a friend on our 'date', I have been ignoring him for the last 3 weeks. What 'thing' is he talking about?



Angie, annoyed with his desperation, pretty much told him that "trying to date someone who you never really got to know is sort of creepy". She went on to say that maybe if he got to know me outside of superficial conversations he would have had some chance. But he never took the time to know about my writing aspirations, or that i hate seafood, or that I don't like movies based on comics i've never read. She told him all of this and said that his problem was he doesn't ask girls questions, it's always about him.



She is seriously like my best friend here. Of course after she went off on him, i ran into him in the break room. As I was leaving he said "so how's that story going?". I laughed, I didn't mean too but I couldn't help myself because I had just learned of the conversation Angie had with him. I said it was "going' and then I let the door close behind me. I'm Just Not That Into You.

The movie seriously had me thinking about relationships. I am 22 and have never had a boyfriend. I have never even seriously pursued one. I am so distant and nervous that I am completely shutting myself off from the opposite sex. But the other day at work I met this guy who changed my whole approach. I want to go into my encounter with him more in another post, because it was seriously intense. As we were talking I thought 'hey this guy likes me and I like him and what's wrong with wanting to be wanted'. What's wrong with wanting to have a dating life, and casually hanging out with guys that I have an interest in. The Key Word being: Interested In.

When this whole 'Porter' thing started to unfold I felt sort of like a snob. There are things that have less importance in a relationship, or at least that's what you tell yourself when you start dating. Though I gravitate to boys with dark hair and striking eyes, personality/ambition/humor and all that jazz can attract me to any guy, as long as he has good intentions and a good heart. I am not physically attracted to 'Porter' in any way, but more importantly I wasn't mentally either.

He's a janitor and not only does he cleans the toilet but he has no ambition to do anything else. When this thought first popped in my mind I was like "shit, i am an academic snob". But that is not the case, I just like someone who has a plan. Who thinks past what they will do today. If that makes me a little snobbish, then I'll take it. It's better than dating someone who I'd have to support in every venture.

So when 'said' guy came into work and started chatting with me about his job as a chef (at a French restaurant) I felt like Liz Lemon from '30 Rock": I wanted to 'go to there', and be with a guy who has ambition. Lots of ambition. I need someone who I can believe in. Who has a dream and who I can possibly help achieve that dream. I wanted to 'go to there with' him, I wanted to learn more about him, but I was pulled away by a customer before I could tell my name or ask him what restaurant he worked at.

The point is I think I want an active dating life. I want to start meeting interesting guys. Guys that I can potentially (and realistically) have a relationship with. I don't want to keep myself at bay and unavailable because..I've been at bay and unavailable for my whole life. And what's wrong with wanting to be wanted?

Anyway, more on that later. I have to work today. Blerg. Tomorrow I have a day off which is much needed. I may actually get something done one of these days.

Non Sober House

Tonight I saw He's Just Not That Into You and then I drank what can only be described as 'fruity vodka".

When did Vodka become fruity? When did I begin drinking Vodka in the first place? Why the hell was I watching that movie?

Whatever the case I have now been schooled on relationship do's and dont's by the cute Mac guy and my body is unnaturally warm from the vodka. My head hurts a little and it feels heavy like I want to sleep but I can't because there is pressure on my frontal lobe.

And instead of climbing into bed like a normal person, I am slung over the mattress (located on the floor) with my feet touching the hardwood floor as my head rests against the frame. Is this what people in their 20's do. If so, it is terribly exhausting (and a little fun).

A real post tomorrow. For sure. I have worked 6 days straight this week and my first real break begins whenever I wake up. I will have a headache for sure but at least I will get to write a real post one of these days.

Time for bed.

Getting on My Nerves 101

Today was an incredibly off day at work. And by off I mean the 7 or so people closing (sans creepy Reuben) were in no mood to be there.

After my post, I spent the next two hours sort of writing my loneliness story (this is what it is saved under) and watching The History Channel. I think I passed out in between 360 Battle and page 2.

Going to sleep late does not mean that I woke up late. As soon as 9 o'clock rick-rolled around I was up and groggy. Did I mention the whole having to go to work thing also. On a Saturday from 5 to close. Closing, simply gives you false sense of security during the day. I mean if you go into work at 5 (like I did) you have a good 7 hours lounging around the house. But the closer it gets to your departure time you realize that you have been robbed of your whole day because it has basically been leading up to this.

I took a nap at 3 only to realize that I had to get ready to leave by 4:30. Needless to say I almost stepped out of the house in my Michigan University t-shirt and jeans. A lot has happened at work since I got my internship. The managers weren't to pleased with my new and exciting announcement. They were worried that I would ask to have my hours cut which would symbolize me moving on from the bookstore. I assured them that my hours would remain the same but that I needed two days off during the week more importantly on Wednesday and Friday. This seemed like a fair compromise and starting next week I will work 4 days at the bookstore and 2 days at the production company leaving one day to myself. Oh, the joys of being in my 20's.

Some of my co-workers have also displayed weird reactions to my internship, particularly some of the older ones. First came excitement ('you can do it'), then came advice ('be professional') but now there seems to be...('you think you're better than us now') tension. I had to close with one said co-worker tonight and though she is usually very friendly she was cold and distant when I tried to talk to her. Because I am a highly sensitive person, I immediately felt her new vibe and I wanted to ask her what was wrong but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I just sulked for a little until I found a good book to read.

Saturday's bring out the worst people (including the employees). People who don't know the titles of anything. People who insist that you should know, and then when you don't know they want someone else to help them. That's the only thing I get offended by. When someone asks you for a book and you try to locate it the best you can for them only to walk away when you tell them the book is not in the store. The part that annoys me is that 5 minutes later they want to know if someone else can look for it.

Some days I hate the book store. Some days all of my co-workers hate the bookstore and we have no problem saying this in front of the person who is asking for the latest book from Oprah's book club. Brad, a hilarious 5th year sophomore, said that everyone who works at our bookstore is an intellectual misfit. That's the only reason any of us got hired. We know books, we are smart enough to do anything yet...we are still there. Waiting for our real lives to begin.

Some days I am resentful of the bookstore, and this resents makes irritable. Today I was harassed by a customer wanting a travel guide for Tunisia (it's in Africa). She was in her late 50's and came up to customer service as if she was heading on the plane tonight. My manager and I were discussing Kelly Osborne and her recent stint to rehab.

"Where is the travel section" she asked,looking to both of our faces for an answer.

Because the travel section is my favorite, I agreed to take her.

"What country?" I asked her, not because I cared but because I wanted to make sure I took her to the right section.

"I just need the travel section" she said with a slight irritation. Her tone was ugly and impatient. Like wherever she wanted to go would disappear if i didn't show her the damn section. There are two things I don't like (which go hand in hand) people who repeat themselves because they don't want to listen.

"I know, but I need to know the country in order to get you in the right section"

"Oh, Tunisia". I have never heard of that country, but on pure luck I took her to the right area. She was with a friend who first saw the Africa books and they began thumbing through it as I made my exit. Just as I was leaving she said "thanks" but I was too annoyed to reply.

At customer service I was getting ready to talk about the douche bag lady in Travel when guess who popped up at my computer. "So I didn't see the guide I wanted" she began "can you look it up for me here".

I shrugged my shoulders and typed in something. The book she wanted wasn't in stock but that didn't stop her from trying to have a meaningless conversation with me. I don't know why this lady annoyed me. She was invading my personal space with questions that I wasn't too keen on answering. I was annoyed that she kept repeating things as if I were deaf. I was annoyed that she kept coming to me for questions. I was annoyed and could not hide this annoyance from her.

She must have gotten the point. She tried once again to say 'thank you' but I started a conversation with someone else. So she said it over and over again until i relented. From the giggling teens in the sexuality section to parents who let their kids run crazy, we all wanted to close the gates and go home come midnight.

Home. Where you can sleep in a warm bed. I have tomorrow off. I should try to finish another book, but I fear I will spend all day surfing the net for a cheap desk. IKEA is my new best friend.