Swine Flu Care Package?

So on Friday my mom said was mailing me a 'special' package.

As i wait around for some word on grad school, telling me about any special packages is not such a good idea. I imagined it was going to be my acceptance or rejection letter in the mail. That she had received the letter on Monday or Tuesday of last week, and decided to surprise me with goodies along with the letter.

This is what I expected because it is what I wanted. In some weird way. Even if it's a rejection letter, I will at least have some closure on this thing. But of course the package (because it arrived today) turned out to be...a Swine Flu Care Package. No lie.

I should take a picture of this thing. Neatly packed over some newspaper is a dozey of hand sanitizers (should the epidemic become too strong?), alcohol wipes (pocket size, should I venture outside of my house into the post-apocalyptic world of the H1n1 virus), and cookies. Yes gingerbread man cookies (should worrying about the virus make me hungry).

It's pretty hilarious.

So my grad school worrying continues as I wait for some news on what the hell I am going to do in the next few months. But at least I have all these precautionary items to last me through the year.

That's what moms are for.

It's A Sunday Thing

So yesterday I was on call. This means that I get to wait around all day until a manager calls (around 4) to see if I am needed or not. Being on call usually means I don't have to work but there are some days when they do ask, and expect, you to come in if they need you.

I wasn't terribly in a good mood yesterday (allergies) so when 4 came around and no one call I sort of put my phone on vibrate and prayed that they wouldn't need me to help close the store. I thought I was in the clear until I got a call from work at 7. I answered only because I need the money and if that means dragging my snotty ass to work..well then so be it. But my manager was not calling for that. She wanted to know if I could take Lisa's schedule on Sunday because she is moving into a new place. Lisa was scheduled to work 10-6, I was only scheduled to work 6-closing. So naturally I told my manager that I would have no problem taking Lisa's time.

It's been rainy the last couple of days which is weird because last week it was 90 degrees. Friday it was a deadly shade of grey outside and the clouds sort of hoovered. Luckily Lenny and the French dude did not send me running all over the place, because by 2pm the rain came pouring down. Today it was pretty much the same, grey and cloudy. You would think this would keep people inside. But no. Not in Westchester county where parents have more time on their hands then should be allowed. Today was a weird chaotic mess of people who didn't want to keep their children inside and people who should have stayed inside.

There is this regular customer-I use that term lightly- There is this regular guy who comes into the store with a huge disco colored shopping bag. It is the most ostentatious thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life, and the first time I saw him walking around the store I could only think to myself "what a weird thing to use as a purse". It goes beyond a purse, it is this ugly yellow bag you would get at some party store. Putting two and two together we quickly figured out that this guy is really a kleptomaniac and the bag is where he stuffs all his shit. Every time him and his yellow bag comes in we are on high alert. It's sort of funny because the bag draws so much attention to him. When the store lights hit the bag it glitters and could literally cause a glare. Our heads turn, we whisper "oh shit the bag guy is here" and then take turns asking him if he needs help while peering into his bag. I think his bag holds the secret of the world in it.

Anyway, it was my turn to follow him around today. But for a bag guy, he is pretty quick. One minute I had the glare of the sparkly shopping bag in my view the next I couldn't find the guy for the longest time. By the time I did see him he was near the exit. Someone says he has weird padding in the bag and that's why he can stuff crap in it without the alarm going off. Nevertheless he is one of the more interesting guys who comes in. And in some weird way we look forward to seeing him because then we have something to do for a while.

I am super nervous about telling my managers that I will be leaving June 1st. I have finally decided on a date. I will get to celebrate Michelle's birthday and enjoy my last days in Westchester before I head home to Small Town USA. I have been conflicted about this in many ways. I love my job. I love the people I work with. And for the most part it is an easy gig. So yes, I have to keep listening to people ask for books like To Kill A Mockingbird without knowing who the author is. And I admit it, I give them a "it's Harper Lee you asshole" look before taking them to the book. So maybe I have to pretend like I care about a book I will never read as a customer goes on and on about how I should read it because it will change my life. But, I love my job. In a weird way. I do.

I never had a job in high school. My mom never pushed the issue on me and I never wanted to make money. Seriously. I barely know what to do with the money I make now. So in a weird way my time at the Bookstore has been a fun high school-isque job where I spend more time talking to my work buddies then helping customers. This does not mean that I do not take book selling seriously but there are often times when I am talking to one of my 'friends' and a customer comes up to us as if we should drop everything to attend to them and all I want to do is turn to the customer lingering at the desk tapping their fingers on the counter and tell them 'hey can you come back in a few. I'm sort of talking here'.

I will miss that.

My mom wants me to take a plane home because I will get to my house in a New York Minute. But I am not a fan of planes. In a weird way I would like to leave this place just like I entered it...on a train looking out the window feeling like I have so much possibility. It will be a long train ride but I wouldn't mind. I could get my own little room, and not have to fight over the window seat. It will give me time to think and process the last 8-9 months of my life. I could read and stare out the window and just breathe...something I have not done in a very long time.

I keep forgetting how nice it is to do that everyone once in a while.

Time to read. I am on my third Bret Easton Ellis novel. I may be a little obsessed. I flew through The Informers and Less Than Zero, but I am not really feeling American Psycho. I want to get into it, but for some reason I just keep putting it down. I have the whole week off and I should make a dent in it. I think I should also start working on some more stories. I hate when people walk into the store asking for writing books as if reading "how to get write a novel for dummies" makes them a writer all of a sudden. I should just start a whole new journal called "that irks me" because if writing is so difficult for me how can some guy or girl off the street come into the store looking for those books, get it done? I can't fathom it being that easy.

A Nation of Fear

I have an admirer at work. He is a usual. Some one who comes in to the bookstore so much he minus well have a cot in the break room and make a home for himself there.

A couple of a months ago I was walking down the aisle when said admirer asked me for help. He was trying to find a history book (American Riffles) that he wanted to purchase for his friend. We didn't have the book in stock so I said I could order him a copy and it would come in the store in a few days. During this time we chatted about everything. He was sort of smitten with me because I spoke well and was eager to help him. I was curious about him because he liked history. Did I mention that he is older then my mom. I should have mentioned that. He is well in his 60's but looked pretty young for his age.

As we were talking he seemed convinced that I was this bright intelligent person. I don't know where he got that idea from. He kept complementing and telling me that if he was 40 years younger he would be the happiest man in the world having known me. And all the jazz. It was very flattering and after I completed his order we wished each other goodbye.

A few days later his book came in, and once again there was this weird flirtation thing. Mainly him complementing me and me trying not to get all embarrassed. When he left he talked about me to the guys in the music department. I know this only because they told me about it later on. He gushed about me. Said I was goddess (Swear.To.Bob) and that he wished he was young enough to date me. It was weird but nice and that day I got a prize from my managers because of my superb customer service! All in all he is a really nice guy. Maybe a little lovestruck but you need that every once in a while.

So after about a month (or two) he strolls into today out of the blue. They put me up at the cash register (which I hate) today and I was literally daydreaming when I heard someone call my name. When I looked up, it was him. The nice but slightly weird older guy. He said that he hadn't seen me in a while and that he was happy to run into me. Not use to this type of a attention I am sort of happy to see him too. Not because I have any interest in the old guy but it's nice having someone interested in you. Now, the old guy is weird on many levels. When I talked to him that first day he sort of was going on and on about the 60's. Apparently he was a hippie and times have changed since the peace and love generation. He wanted me to know this, because even though I am 23 he knew that I was an old soul and understood everything that he was talking about.

Then he started talking about his fears of the present day. Which wasn't totally unusual because well...it's been a rough couple of years. But when I saw him today and listened to him go on and on again about the economic crisis, global warming and as he put it 'the end of civilization as we know it' I started to think that maybe the guy who has a crush on me, the guy who is a very attractive older man (that I could and would never date) could be a little bit crazy. Or paranoid. Or a survivalist?!?!

I am leaning towards a survivalist because then he started talking about having to arm ourselves when it got too bad and civilization collapsed all together. I listened quietly, voiced some superficial concerns and became captivated by how he transferred his fear unto me. It was not just about him anymore but about me and how I would have to live through this shit because I am young and yadda yadda. It was weird, how paranoid and pessimistic he was about life and about the future. And if I was a gullible person I would have been like 'yeah. times are tough take me to your weird cabin in the woods where we will survive off of berries and crazy manifestos'.

But I'm not gullible. And I am not really into eating berries, so I just wished him and his survivalist self a good day. After this encounter I had a few more conversations with customers who were voicing their opinions on the state of the world. And I realized that we as a nation, as a society are guided by our fears. We live by them. There isn't a day that goes by where we aren't bombarded with news coverage on a new epidemic or economic crisis that threatens the way we live our lives. And though these are legit concerns I don't think we should be building bomb shelters yet or colonizing in the woods waiting for the big one to come.

I don't know. This irks me for some reason. That fear governs our perceptions. That we are a terrified nation or generation instead of a resilient one. I am reading a lot of Bret Easton Ellis these days (totally finished Less Than Zero, now working on Rules of Attraction) and I often contemplate how to define the generation that I am apart of. And in a weird way, it's a generation defined by fear, terrified into inactivity, and just waiting for the rug to be pulled from under us.

I'd rather not live my life that way. It's just not for me.

Anyway. I emailed lenny today and put in my two week notice. I will have been there for almost 5 months and I feel like this is the right time for me to make my exit. I have done all that I can do and in a small way I appreciate my time there. But the end (not in the weird apocalyptic way) is coming. I mean I can feel it at my job and at my aunts house too. That I am transitioning into a new phase and slowing wishing this place goodbye. It doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels quite right. That there is this change coming, this window that is open only for a small period of time that will whisk me away to my new adventure. And if I don't step through it, if I don't utilize this opening now....then I will never have known my full potential.

Time for bed. I have a long day tomorrow. I need to take more pictures of the city. It's a beautiful place that I will miss.

"She Waits, Seething, Blooming"

I think I should title all my entries after stories (short and novel lenght) that I am reading these days. They are way more interesting then the ones I come up with on my own.

It's going to be 90 degrees here. OMG! I am on-call today which means I either get to sit in or near the sun and read a book all day OR go to work and sweat to death in a building that does not have air conditioning. Though I desperately need the hours (and money!) , I am hoping for the lounging day. I have my book already picked out (Less Than Zero) I already have my drink made (ice cold lemonade) and I have claimed my spot (any and everywhere).

Work has been crazy lately and my hours are being slashed drastically. Next week I am clocking in...count em'...TEN hours. This will not help me in any way, shape or form. I can't help but take a personal offense to the slashing of my hours, especially when I look at everyone else's. I mean everyone is suffering but at the end of the day I am the only one working 2 days next week. I know it has nothing to do with my job performance and more to do with the fact that I haven't complained about needing more hours or having huge financial responsibilities. I take my hours in stride part grateful that I have them and ambivalent towards not having them. But at the same time I would like to make money and working TEN HOURS sort of deprives me of that.

Angie may have told a co-worker that I plan on leaving at the end of may. On Sunday I came into work and Linda (a very nosey person) asked me why I was planning to leave?!?!?!. This sort of took me aback because I hadn't talk to anyone about this except Angie and I hate putting something out there that may or may not be true. I told her I wasn't sure, I have some waiting to do before I can make any sort of decision like that. But she looked sad. And spent the whole day hanging around me as if i was quiting that day.

My Uncle says plans are stupid. And though I do not like agreeing with him... he has a point. Plans never work out the way you want them too and because of this I have scaled back on the planing aspect of my life. That's what happened when I came here. I planned on becoming an editorial assistant, commuting from New Haven to New York. I planned on getting a car and staying with my aunt for a few months until I got settled. Clearly that did not work out. I had to adjust the plans quickly maybe for the better maybe not. In that sense I am sort of pissed that Angie talked to someone about a plan not even set in stone. That now it is forcing something into action. I don't want people asking questions about when I plan on leaving or why I plan on grad school working out. I literally am refusing to make any intricate plans outside of what will I do today or what book/short story should I read or write.

Thinking beyond that is too much for me. It's just too much. I want to enjoy whatever time i have left here. I will start that enjoyment by having a nice reading day. Enough said.

" I'm Going Going, Back-Back, to Cali Cali!"

Angie is officially moving back to Kansas this Wednesday. Argh!!!

After struggling to make it in this place for a whole year, things just haven't panned out in her favor. She lost her job in November, got a job at the Bookstore in December but has been unable to find anything to help her pay for rent, food, and sanity.

She has seriously been my BFF here, and often times we talk about how easy it was for us to just be friends. After training her the first day at work, we quickly decided we liked each other. I think we may have even said "so, we are like friends now?" "yeah, pretty much". Ever since then we have hung out, had a amazing academic and life discussions, laughed our asses off, and bitched. At this point I couldn't imagine the last few months without her. I mean we threw an Obama Party with cupcakes and chips. Amazing!

A part of me is sad that my only friend is leaving. I mean I know a lot of people here and I am not going to be lonely without her. But it will be different. Our late night drives have come to a close and no more eating out at all those damn restaurants (I'm okay with this one. My wallet has suffered because of this). But that part of me that is sad is very slim. I know that Angie and I will be friends for life, and because of this I am not so distraught. She is moving back with her parents while she waits to hear from two jobs that she has applied and interviewed for.

She went to school for library science, so she is applying to places that need an archivist (her official title). In a surprising turn some weeks ago a job she half heartily applied to, NB-Motherf*cking-C!, called about a potential job offer. The position is located in Los Angeles (which she wasn't initially a fan of but that quickly changed) and she would get to do archiving work for NBC. The other job is in DC, but in comparing the two positions and location....Los Angeles is just way cooler.

I have been in a Bret Easton Ellis mood lately. Which is weird because I have never read Bret Easton Ellis and after having read a book by him a Bret Ellis mood could mean a lot of things. I usually do not read books that are being turned into movies. If I wasn't interested in the book before I don't see the draw of reading it when a movie comes out on the book. It's just not my thing. But for some reason I have been drawn to The Informers. I have no intention of seeing the movie but I figured the book would be a great introduction to him ( I don't know if I can read American Psycho yet or ever). And let's just say...I love the book. Every chapter is a new character interconnected with other characters. They are raw, honest, and products of a shallow and unforgiving society. I love it. I love everything about it. And now I am in a weird California mood. I want to lounge on a beach, read, write, wear sandals and wallow in the bane of my own existence for a while. I couldn't do that every day, but it would be a grand vacation.

So when Angie told me about California, I was all on that idea. She had the interview on Tuesday and should she get another in person interview, Cali might be her new destination which would be awesome because then I would have a friend to visit in California. I am very excited for her.

As for me, no news yet. I have decided to do some of that breathing stuff and take it one day at a time. This grad school, plan A, worry here worry there thing, is making me forget about my sense of adventure. That i want a cool and interesting and fulfilling life. I want to take a lot of risks, I want to see everything and I have to keep that in mind. That the fine shade of gray that I am straddling is not so bad. It could be where I find myself or lose myself or figure myself out. And what's so wrong with that.

I am starting Glamorama today (and also Child of my Heart by Alice McDermott). I am still in a reading frenzy, which is kind of relaxing. I've decided to do some clothes shopping today (because the weather is hot and I still have only sweaters to wear) and maybe grab some lemonade for my day. This California state of mind is working (for now) I minus well ride the high while I can.

Dear Dr. Seuss

...the 'waiting place' sucks. I just wanted to remind you.

-Becks-

Unsettled....

I'm nervous. Very nervous.

As I mentioned, my grad school shit is done. Last Saturday I mailed off everything to my Alma mater. It was last minute of course. The application was due April 15th (Wednesday) I finished my story around April 8th, and then spent a few days revising and being very particular about stuff.

Though I have been very apprehensive about grad school, and have told myself several times not to put all my eggs in one basket...in all honesty I need this plan to work out. I don't know what I would do with myself for another year. I obviously can't stay in New York ( working at the bookstore and living with my aunt) I don't want to live with my mom for a year in small town USA, but I don't know if I can find a well paying job to live on my own for a while in another state. At least in school, I will have two more years to strengthen my weaknesses, network, and make up for my slack undergraduate career. I also won't have to worry about loan payments or worse....budgeting to the max.

I should hear something back soon. Probably the beginning of may. They will mail my acceptance or rejection letter to my moms house and then....who knows.

I am very antsy because I know a change is coming. I just don't know where this change will take me. Sometimes I am completely confident. Even if I don't get into grad school I know I am smart enough, bright enough, and strong enough to try my hand at something else. But some days, like today, I am apprehensive. Unsettled. A huge mess. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know if I am brave enough to conquer the "real world" and I want to take a huge break from it all. I want to fold into myself and stay enclosed until I an strong enough to return. That could take days, weeks, or even months. Just to recuperate and try again.

I talked to my dad the other day. It's been 2 months. I did not even try to make up excuses as to why I hadn't called him in a while. I have been a very busy person. I can barely find the time to relax. But he didn't care about any of that. He wanted to know if I was okay. That not knowing is worse than anything. We talked for a while and I heard some of the same things over and over again. But at the part where he expresses that he wants only for me to be 'happy in life", he neglected to say that. Instead he said he wanted me to take as many risks as i can and to not let fear get in my way.

????

I think he might be a psychic. The real world sucks. I mean there is nothing glamorous about it. But at the same time, whether I go to grad school or not, I have to continue to make a life for myself. That is proving to be the hardest thing of all. I try to not think about it sometimes just so I can give myself a rest.

Anyway. Enough of that for now.

There has been quite a shake up a work. The Janitor was fired. Hours are being cut so drastically I feel a mutiny coming. Angie's last day is Thursday. Every one's super tense and attacking one another with verbal quips. When it's fun at work, it's fun. When it's not, we all feel it. Yesterday Lisa, someone I usually get along with well, was in a foul mood. She was jumping down every one's throat and taking offense to the stupidest thing. My boss was working at the computer I was standing near and said "Lisa is apparently not talking to me". I asked her why, and she said she didn't know but that she just felt like Lisa was mad at her.

My boss, the vegan from California who wears leather, is awesome. She is super nice and we all call her Sunshine because she is so happy, but not in that annoying way. So to see her upset was weird. And to see Lisa pissed was weird. So I said "I think Lisa's just in a bad mood" I mean sometimes people just don't feel like talking. Lisa was standing right near me as I said this comment and a couple of minutes later she came up to me and said 1) that i read depressing books (because I was going to buy the book 'We need to talk about Kevin) and 2) "Stop going around and telling people that I am in a bad mood. I feel FINE!"

I sort of just shrugged my shoulders as she walked away...clearly in a foul, bad mood. Whatever. I have to let them know, in May, that i leaving soon. I like my co-workers, and sometimes I like my job but I see how easy it is to get trapped there. Especially with some of the fears I have about the next few months. But fear at this point is like stagnation and I'd rather risk it all then settle for comfort.

Time to get ready for work. I am only clocking in 3 days this week. I need to get the F*ck out of this place.

I'm Not Dead...

Just tired.

Very tired. I sent in all my grad school stuff last Saturday, and have spent the better part of my week stressing, de-stressing, a lot of sleeping combined with a lot of reading. I wanted to take time away from writing just so I could re-group and relax.

I have no idea if I will be accepted. It is the only grad school I applied to so I just have to wait and worry. I fluctuate between wanting to go to grad school and not. I wonder if taking some 5 week workshops would teach me all that I need to know. I worry about going back to small town USA for the next two years. I worry about not going back to small town USA and what I will do if I don't get accepted. Maybe I could move to Maine. Who knows. That is how my brain has been working these days.

A real post soon. I promise.

First work, and then hanging out with Angie who is moving back to Kansas in two weeks. My only real friend is leaving. This kind of sucks. The winds of change are a blowing. I don't feel prepared for where it will take me.

Near the End

This song By Pete Yorn (from an album I did not like when I was 15, but that at 23 I cannot stop listening too) has been playing all day as I near the end of my story. Near the end. If you knew what I went through yesterday (more tears, and tantrums) you'd know how far from that reality that was just 24 hours ago.

It has potential. It's not nearly the story I want it to be. But it has potential. And with revision and help, it could be something. Potential. A word that I highlighted in the personal statement I finished today over and over again.

Here's to nearing the end, but not in that all so consuming drowning sort of way. Here's to finishing a story that i don't completely hate. A story that has potential. That's more than I can say about a lot of things these days.

Seeing A Pattern?

I am sending out my grad shit on Thursday. Not that I am any closer to finishing this story then I was last week but I have to send something. And potential is better then blank pages.

As I struggle to finish, I am realizing a sort of pattern. When it comes to story writing and deadlines I may or may not wait until the last minute crying my eyes out at odds hours in the night while I develop severe headaches that make me believe I am having an aneurysm only to realize that it's anxiety preventing me from writing a story and nothing more.

I bought a cool book a few weeks back called A Writer's Space: Make Room to Dream, to Work, to Write. It's actually pretty good. I'm not one for self help books, but this one teaches you about separating your conscious self from your writing self in order to write creatively. I had to read it last night, while I was panicking again because well...I always panic.

I put too much weight into everything and because of this I procrastinate and freak out. Marie and my mom have been a great support as I struggle to finish this story but the truth is they have their reasons for this invested interest in the completion of my story They both want me to be closer to them for a few more years so I can take away some part of their loneliness. Writing of course, again, has become an all too daunting task to think about.

I can't wait til this crap is out of my hands and sent off. But even then, if I get accepted will the next two years be this filled with anxiety? Or will I somehow learn to overcome all my mental road blocks and just learn how to write freely and without all the pressure?

I don't know but a miracle needs to happen in the next two days. That's all I'm saying.

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.