August Rush

I am enjoying my last full day home. This week has flown by and I am trying to get in as much hugs as I can before I leave.

I hate this. I hate being torn between two worlds. One where I am independent and leading a life that I hope will be full of adventure, passion, and happiness. And one where I want nothing more than to be with my family in our little world known as Small Town USA. Where weekends are spent watering plants, making pancakes and watching marathons on various channels.

I hate being torn between two worlds that differ so greatly but that offers me things I feel that I both want and need. I feel anxious about being pulled in two directions, I feel suffocated by my own desires to be fully apart of both worlds even though I know I will eventually have to release myself from one (a little) in order to move forward.

Until then, I am enjoying my last full day home. In bed. Hugging my pillows and taking in this place and my life here until the next visit.

I'm Nervous.

So this was my last full weekend home. I am more bummed out than I thought I would have been a couple of months ago. Trust me, I am excited to get back to my 'life'. I know that I need to be in New York to start and then complete this internship, so I can finally get a promising job, and then maybe get published. My mind knows this, my body even knows this..but this has not prevented the build up of anxiety arising in my stomach.

Last night I couldn't sleep and after 23 years of semi-insomnia, I know what a sleepless night means. I don't really understand why things like this make me nervous, I mean worse than nervous, anxious. I had a horrible dream that I returned to NY and everything had changed. No one remembered who I was, in fact no one cared who I was because in the span of 6 weeks so much had changed. In my dream, I walked into my bookstore job and everyone kept asking me why I was there. There were also a slew of new faces, all tall and intimidating people who replaced the ones I am familiar with.

I walked around the store for a while, but I was becoming invisible to everyone (it seemed). No one saw me or cared that I was there. I then go into the break room to see if I am even on the schedule and my name is there along with 7 names I am unfamiliar with. The schedule is barely one at all, there are no hours and no shifts, just a dumb list with ridiculous times written down. The only person who knows who I am is this guy named Brian, who I never really talked to him because everyone has a massive crush on him at work. He has striking red hair which is always pulled back into a low ponytail, and his face is unusually handsome. He looks different in my dream though, for some reason his red hair has streaks of grey in it, and he is looking ultra shaggy. When he passes me he mentions something about my return but then walks out. I then spend the rest of the dream walking around with my suitcase.

That's my kind of nightmare. The dream is not just about my bookstore job though, I am nervous in general. Severely anxious about the future. It is during these moments where i wish I was going to grad school, just 2 hours away, around a corner and down a hill. In a way I am half-heartily been playing out scenario number 1 with this little vacation. I mean up until I received the rejection letter I was 75% sure I was going to be attending school in the fall. I was to come home in June, enjoy my summer with my family, and then embark on my schools writing program. I have done 2 out of the three things in the last 6 weeks, and instead of being a train headed to New York this Saturday I am getting glimpse of myself in a car heading to school. And maybe my anxiety stems from these two alternating paths.

I like living near my mom, I hate that we went 7 months without seeing each other. I like my bed, and my room, and the desk I painted last summer. But then I like my independence, I like living near a city, I love the experience I am gaining, and the steps that are leading me closer to the life I want. I love too many things and I hate having to sacrifice one for the other even though it what one has to do. Becoming an adult sucks hard core.

In less than a week I will be on a train bound for Penn Station. It's funny, at the beginning of this 6 week stay the days use to drag by. But the closer it gets to Saturday the faster the days seem to go, and of course I am trying with all my might to hang on to the minutes before they are completely gone.

I don't know when (or if) this growing older thing becomes easier. So far, it's a painful transition from the safety of my youth to the uncertainty of adulthood.

Post Grad-The Movie.

So a couple of weeks I saw the trailer for the movie Post Grad starring Gilmore Girls Alum Alexis Bledel. Needless to say, three minutes later I was mortified by the concept of this movie and a little embarrassed that someone in Hollywood thought they could capture post grad life so eloquently with the help from Alexis Bledel. Let me explain where this anger comes from.

As a post grad person, there is no movie or book that has yet to captured (for me) the essence of having no idea what to do with your life after graduating college. The movie that has come the closet to capturing the quarter-life crisis is Reality Bites, but I was eight when the movie came out and had no idea what I had in store for me. And even now watching something and living something are to different things.

So when I saw these cheesetastic trailer with Alexis Bledel playing a college grad who moves back in with her parents while she dissects what to do with her new life now...I almost gagged. I mean literally. First, because Rory Gilmore-excuse me-Alexis Bledel is not a convincing lead. I mean, I don't know the chick but she seems like she could land something. Modeling, being pretty, dating co-stars...I don't know I'm just saying. Secondly, Michael Keaton is her dad (in the movie) and Batmans daughter doesn't have post grad problems.

In all honesty, what irks me the most about this movie is I already the ending will be a 'feel good, everything works out declaration for perseverance through the storm' BS. Here you have an above average looking female, with Batman as her dad, two love interests (including Rodrigo Santoro who is the furthest thing from an average looking guy), searching for stable things to make something meaningful out of her life. But by doing that, the movie will not depict the depression, anxiety, and general lowness that Hollywood rarely captures. And it's not because they can't, it's because people don't want to see that. People want to see things begin badly and then work themselves out with a few small (and cute) bumps along the way.

I know, I am being a tad bit harsh on this movie. I should take it for what it is, a nice pick me upper...but the truth is I couldn't watch a movie that says "this is your life, this is your life Hollywood style. Don't you wish it was this simple" because at the end of the day after I watch Alexis Bledel land her dream job, dream boyfriend, and dream life with her Batman dad in tow (because I believe Michael Keaton can make anything right. seriously), I will still be be going through my own post grad life with a suck ass job, old creepy dudes who hit on me, and a undecided life sans Michael Keaton.

Marie and I talk about our post grad lives all the time, and I realize that we are experiencing quarter life crisis hard core. We have tendency to talk about the past (a lot) and what we would change to make our present lives easier. I have a tendency to fret over what kind of career I want and how I get to achieving that,while Marie hopes that going to work and coming home aren't going to be the highlight of her life.

I don't know if there is a moment when you know you are on the right path. When you know that you are okay with the life you have created for yourself. For someone who has suffered with anxiety her whole life, I don't think there will ever be that moment where I am like "yep, this is exactly where I wanted to be, when I wanted to be there, with the people I've wanted to be with". If this moment does occur, then this quarter life crisis is worth it, if at the end of it's run I am content with my life, even though I hate that word.

Until then I will skip out on seeing this movie. I find it more depressing than uplifting, because it will lack the despair of post grad life the way I'd like to see it.

In other news, the editor emailed me back and I am a go for this internship. I do not know why I feel that having a publishing internship on my resume will be a good thing, especially since I don't know if I want a career in publishing but it's only for 3 months, and at this point any experience is better than none. I have said this a million but I do lean towards magazine and production jobs. Marie thinks I should email Lenny and ask if I can intern with him again. I think she really wants me to get in touch with Adam again, who of course is there IT guy. I think having more than one production experience on my resume is better than just interning with them but I will in the future ask him if he knows of anyone who is looking for a stellar research gal.

We'll see, first things first I guess.

The Result of my Mishaps

So I have my computer back. Again.

This is the 2nd time in the span of 6 weeks that my computer has gone to Geek Squad. Unfortunately this time I did not have a warranty (even though I am not sure it covers viruses) and I had to hand over 200 dollars for my computer. Along with the nice fee, the geek squad dude wanted to give me some suggestions. First, I need to install some virus protection on my computer. I have not had a proper one since college hence the infection. Secondly, I should think of expanding the memory on my computer. It will make it run a lot faster. This was not a bad bit of advice but after spending 200 bucks, minutes earlier, I was in no mood for recommendations, even though I did end up buying a virus protection software.

I hope nothing else happens to my computer. I am sans warranty, and sans money to purchase a new computer or to keep getting this one fixed every time I do something stupid to it.

Anyway, In less than 2 weeks I will be in New York again. The nerves are killing me and I am excited though apprehensive about returning. Excited because I hope the next couple of months will lead to a real job, a real apartment, and maybe some resemblance of a real life. Apprehensive because until all of those things happen, I am returning to my bookstore job and my aunt. The aunt thing is not so bad (free rent) but I just found out that one of my favorite managers at the bookstore is leaving in September. There are only 2 cool managers, and without her we now only have one.

This only makes it more evident that I need to get out of the bookstore. After a year I am still there, selling people The Secret twenty times over. I am hoping that this internship will make me a successful candidate for entry level job. I wanted to email the editor last week to remind her about the internship and to give her the date that I am available to start. But with the computer incident and sheer laziness I waited until today. I hope that she has not forgotten about me, or decided to give someone else the position...just because. My email was very polite yet direct.

I am banking on this experience to catapult me into an editorial assistant position. I know. It's pretty lame that right now that is the gold at the end of my rainbow. I kept telling myself that I don't even know if book publishing is for me. It seems a little rigid and static. I lean towards magazine publishing and even production because I'll b able to write, but I need to get my start somewhere and right now this is the most logical point to start from.

I hate talking about boring stuff like this but unfortunately it is my number one concern. I am so freaked out about making the wrong decision for my life. Like what happens if I go down this road only to realize that it sucks hard core, and now I have to back track a few miles (or years) just to make it all right. Yes, this is what goes through my head...everyday. It's almost manic.

It's even worse because i have given myself a time line. A year at the bookstore was okay, but another year is just not possible. A year at my aunts has been helpful but a place of my own (where i can cook) is just necessary now. I need to have my stuff together by December. A real job would be nice, a studio would be reasonable and by December I hope to at least have those two things even if by the end of all that i decided to bum it all away for something more extraordinary. I should have been a rockstar. They have the life.

It sucks that all those seemingly easy wants, for now, are so hard to attain. They literally seem out of reach, even though I know 'it' is right there.

Damn.

Anyway, I am going to enjoy my computer today. Maybe a little sims here, Peru story there, and youtube. Not entirely productive, I know, but still...

Infected

I gave my computer a virus. It is a very long (and quite stupid) story that I am too embarrassed to write about right now. Lets just say I tried to watch old episodes of my favorite TV show online. Too bad the site I could upload said show on is a piece of shit. Needless to say, I immediately brought my computer to best buy because I kept getting a "You Are Infected" pop up every 2 minutes.

The dude kept asking me questions like "do you download music" "Do you download movies" "Do you download..." I think he was going to say porn but then figured that is something I wouldn't do. I told him I was trying to watch Tales From the Crypt (seriously. It's lame I know) on some site that I guess wasn't as secure as I thought it was.

He said that I probably got the bug from said site and that he could fix it. For $200!!!!!!! My computer is once again at best buy for the next week. I am beginning to think I am not as good of a computer owner as I thought. So along with forking over $200, I may have to buy software to protect my computer from this happening again, even though I could have sworn I had Norton or something on her.

All in all I will be dishing out at least $250, that's enough money to buy all the seasons of Tales from the Crypt.

You can't see it from your end, but there is a huge frown on my face. Huge!

I'd Like You to Meet Someone

Her name is Celeste, and she is the protagonist of my first real novel. I think.

Back in May I had this insane idea to write a story about a couple in Peru. I was inspired by some pictures on Flickr of this female photographer and her photographer boyfriend who do freelance work all over the world. Their images are amazing, uniquely intimate and bare. Suddenly I struck with an image of Peru and a girl named Celeste and this relationship she has with this "sometimes, not really, all the time" boyfriend. The novel begins immediately with the death of a mutual friend who Celeste and said boyfriend have independently shared a history with. But the day after his death, the two board a plane to Peru, on to another job, wondering whats next, not particularly for them, but just in general.

I told Marie about this and she thought I was crazy. One, I cannot write a story about a place I've never been too. Two, that's not really much of a story. Where's the plot and where's the action. What's the point? And at first I thought she was right. So I shelved the story, I mean I don't want to misrepresent a country because I've never been to it, and I figured I should at least make a trip to said country before I decide to write a story about it.

But for some reason, during the few times I do sit down to write, I always come back to this story, I always return to Celeste and her life. And I can't stop trying to create a history for her in order to direct her and her actions. So though I have omitted any clear Peru references I am writing this story. Or at least trying to.

It's very difficult writing a story. Yesterday I was on Youtube (again) and during a random search I saw a video of some dude who looked just like my hot but very boring creative nonfiction professor. You know, Mr. McDreamyButRatherDull. Of course it wasn't him but because I was now had the memory of him in my head, I typed his name in the search bar and holy mother of crap, 2 seconds later there is actually a video of him giving a lecture on his first novel which was published a couple of weeks ago. Of course I clicked the link and watched with mild interest as my ex-professor read a couple of pages from his novel and then gave an interview about the writing process.

Even though I am not really into his writing, he was the golden boy at our university. He has won numerous awards for poetry and fiction and the last award he won lead to the publication of his novel by my schools publishing house. I couldn't watch the whole interview because he is REALLY boring but apparently he is now teaching at another school where he is getting his PHD.

I couldn't help but feel a tinge of "WTF?!" I feel like I have all the potential to be a writer but I have no idea how to channel that potential. I enjoy writing but I get so lost, and then mad, and then just tired. I still have no idea if I should apply to graduate school even though it is apparent that I need it. Or at least need a workshop or something. I wish I could post the link of his interview on here (he is still very cute but as dry as ever). I might, even though I am protective over where I went to school and live. I know I'm very weird.

Needless to say, as soon as I saw him I wanted to write. And because I am sort of stuck on Celeste, I keep writing this story. I am interested about who she is, why she is, and who she will become. But I feel I (the writer) am getting in the way of her story, I, who am very self conscious about my words am not allowing her to guide me. I don't know how to separate her from myself and for this reason I am struggling to find her voice.

Breathe. Relax. Breathe.

In other news, Marie called me all day Saturday and Sunday. It became very annoying after the 10th call. She finally got a rental car, until they can figure out what to do with hers, but she needed someone to entertain her during her all day wait for enterprise to deliver the rental. During the 8th phone conversation we talked about traveling again. I seriously am getting sick of talking about traveling and then going nowhere. I brought this up again to Marie who of course said she was too busy with her job to travel but that as soon as I got an apartment in New York she would visit me. That doesn't make any sense. Her visiting me in New York is not traveling. That's her coming to where I live, visiting, and then me just showing her the sights I've already seen. So even though she will be able to add Big Apple on her list of places she has been, I will have added nothing. I am determined to travel somewhere. I am starting a fund which currently only has 5 dollars in it, but I am desperate. This makes no sense to me why at 23 I've only been up and down the east coast.

I guess I should save up for a trip to Peru. Would make sense, even though I may have no one to take with me. Damn.

Time to write.

The Cartoonish Life of My Friend

Your eyes are not fooling you. That is a tree on a car. Not any car. Marie's Car. Last night I was slaying zombies on the Wii, and I got a random call from her. Of course I did not answer the phone because killing zombies is a hard job, and I did not want to pause the game right as I was slaughtering those flesh eating bastards. I'm just saying. I know I'm a horrible friend. After I quit the game, I decided to check the message she left me on my phone.

Marie and I are very consistent with our phone conversations. We usually talk to each other around 5 o'clock and when I was in New York around 11pm, because I didn't like walking home alone. I figure that, hopefully, no one will attack someone on the phone. I mean muggers can't be that desperate that they attack someone who could identify them over the phone to however they are talking to. So far, this has worked. I feel safer at night having someone on the phone with me, it's the closest thing I have to mace.

Anyway, getting her call yesterday around 7 was odd, and the fact that she left a message was a little weird. When I checked her message all I could hear was "car.clipped.lady". I immediately called her back because....we'll even though she annoys me, getting in a car accident is not fun. Especially when you don't have anyone near you to make it a little better. So when I called her the first words out of my mouth were "you got hit by a car". Her first words back to me were "no, a fucking tree"

I wish I was making this up. According to Marie she was sitting in her apartment the other day reading a book. It was too stormy outside to do anything and she pretty much spends her time reading books anyway. She could hear the thunder outside and could see the flick of lightening from her window. The next then she heard was a big bang and then the splintering of wood, followed by 'the loudest noise in the world". Of course this was the sound of the tree crashing on her car. At first she didn't think anything of it, until she remembered that her car is parked near a tree, in fact her car is the only car near any tree in that neighborhood.

When she got outside....well you see the picture

Her car is totaled. The tree made a nice little home right on top of it. I thought this only happened in cartoons or during those Allstate commercials. At first I was concerned (because once again car accidents suck!) but then I couldn't stop laughing. Really, who does this happen to. When does a tree strike lightening during a not so major thunderstorm and land perfectly on your car. In front of your house. As you are reading a trashy romance novel about throbbing members.

Her insurance company (Allstate maybe?) covers this sort of thing and for the next few weeks she will be driving a rental until they access the damage. Or until they take two looks at the car and realise it is beyond repair.

Beyond.

She got this car as a college graduation present from her mom. The car is about 5 years old, cause I remember her mom let us take this baby to prom. We both did not have dates the night, because I was too afraid to ask anyone and we were certain no one was going to either one of us. No one expected her to go anyway, and because of this she went. I decided to be her 'friend date' because what else did I have to do. We got all dolled for this thing, only to both look like mafia princesses that Saturday. This was before I knew black does not look good on me (at all!) and before she knew bouffants are not attractive. On anyone. We got there extremely early. That kind of early when only the chaperone's were there. My history teacher was the first one to see us and I couldn't tell if he was shocked that we showed up at all or that we looked like girls from a mobster movie.

We stayed for about 15 minutes. Which was enough time to see our 'friends' from the media club and drink some weird beverage that was green. Afterwards we drove around town, got burritos from a place 45 minutes outside of our city, and then went to Walmart because she ended up staying the night at my house but we she didn't have any pj's to wear.


That was pretty much our life in high school, attending events we felt isolated from, and then escaping from them to hang out with each other. Thinking on it now, I think the tree did her a favor. We are so different from those girls laying out in my living room watching a rerun of Medium while the cats kept us company. That car was/is the last physical thing from her (and my) high school years, and now it is weighed down to the ground by a tree in her front yard. Now if only that tree could destroy the pictures we have of that night. They are horrible, trust me.

A Little Bit of GQ

How could I forget the 15th of July (or of any 15th of the month for that matter of fact)? The 15th is usually when a new issue of GQ comes out. Needless to say, my vacation is distorting time and days and I was very shocked to see the new issue out (with Channing Tatum on the cover, but for the sake of this journal I decided against a shirtless picture of him) while I was at the supermarket. All is right with the world now. All is right.

The free wireless has come back and for now I am using it until the cable guy comes tomorrow to install ours. I know I have only 3 weeks left but I've been without the Internet for so long that I would rather continue to still someones wifi then wait an extra day. I am very addicted to this thing. Though I have the Internet for a while, I am pretty much going to spend the rest of the night reading my GQ magazine. I do this every month and find solace in the arms of fashion and entertainment layouts.

It's going to be very weird going back to New York because if all works out I will be able to actively look for an "adult" job by November. Marie holds the fact that I do not have, what she calls, an "adult job" this against me. Every time we are on the phone she manages to throw in a snide remark about my job situation. Sometimes she is downright rude about it. She has rubbed it in my face several times that she makes more money than I do and that while I flounder around at my "high school age" job she has a real one, where she makes a salary instead of a hourly wage. I know, I don't know why I am still friends with her.

I don't take it to heart, because...it's Marie, and a phone conversation without some conversation like that would be unusual. I do love my job at the bookstore, but I don't (and can't) work there forever. In all honesty I don't even know if book publishing is my thing, but I at least need some entry level job for the experience if not the longevity.

I go back and forth about what I want to do. Sometimes I want to be in production other times I want to work in Magazine. And sometimes I want to be a freelance writer with a photo journalist boyfriend who I can travel the world with documenting what we see together on our magical adventure. He can be the eyes while I am the words for the stories we decide to tell. But for now that is a secret passion of mine that is hidden by the reality of my life.

Though this vacation was suppose to be my own personal writing seminar of sorts, I have yet to do anything that resembles writing. I don't know what it is. I need guidance and focus and because I lack those two things I just stare at a blank screen for half the day or worse I don't stare at all. I busy myself with movies and books and then before you know it is 11pm and I am watching another episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. It's a pretty sad state because I really want to pursue a writing career but that sort of requires writing and for some reason my head can't get around it. I don't know what I am doing with myself and it is driving me crazy.

On the reading level I have made a dent in Rules of Attraction by Bret Ellis, and though it is not my favorite novel by him, I do like it. My college experience did not resembled his version at all, but you know...I guess it does somewhere. I am also reading this book called Rebecca. It's really old school but the plot sounded dramatic enough to stir my interest. I am hoping that by reading all of these books I will be able to recognize the style of writing that I am drawn too and then be able to write. So far, not so good. I just end of comparing myself to said writer and wondering why I can't pen a novel at 23 like Bret Easton Ellis did (at 21, I think).

I'm starting to feel washed up, even before I made a literary dent somewhere. Must get myself out of this rut. Must get myself out of this rut. Must.

Connection Problems

I use wireless at home. Not my own wireless of course because I am the only one in the house with a computer. The desktop barely works, and my mom really has no use for a computer. Not now anyway.

When I use to come home from college I would just connect to the available wireless listed on my preferred network list. It didn't (and doesn't) matter whose it was as long as I had access to it. But on Friday I woke up with the intention of checking my mail like I always do but this time there were no open networks. Not even the one I have always used. Bummer. We are now getting wireless installed in the house but I have to wait until Friday to get it. Until then I am stuck using Dial-Up. There was a time when waiting 5 minutes for a page to load was normal, now it's just wrong. So very wrong.

My vacation is winding down. I like being home but I am ready to get back to my life. Here there is a false sense of security because I am home all day with my motherly mother and my flawed but entertaining brother. I don't have to worry about anything because it is all provided for me. But I really want a job, a job job, not a fun bookstore job. If the editor still wants me, I have an internship in a few weeks with an actual big league publishing house. It's only for 3 months but I know after that i can actively look for a job in publishing (or production) without my inexperience getting in the way.

My aunt has agreed to let me stay with her for a few more months. So this means that I will be juggling my bookstore job with an internship. If I'm lucky I'll get one day off a week. Fun times, I know. But this is what I want. It took me so long just to get here, so I feel like I am on the right path. I just have to remain on it, you know. So i will be booking another ticket to return to New York in a few weeks. I still fear that when I get there everything will have changed while I was gone for 6 weeks, and that I have to start over again. But that is just me being paranoid.

Dial-Up is driving me crazy. I was doing so well, until this crap happened. I want to write all about Marie's visit and the luncheon we didn't go on with our old librarian. But I'll have to wait.

Until Then,

Becks

Seeking You Out...

...when the time is right.

I have a love/hate relationship with facebook. On one end I like having access to people's lives that I am currently friends with. I don't mind knowing that Kathleen ( this cool chick from work) can't wait to see Jennifer's Body by Diablo Cody or that Angie is enjoying DC. I don't mind seeing the results of my friends stupid quizzes, or that today they are feeling shitty/happy/angry and yadda.

I mean in a sense I already know these things about them. But sometimes you get a nice bit of tidbit that surprises you or reiterates why you like them so much. Not saying that you can't have a solid healthy friendship without knowing that Josh stayed about late drinking or that Ana has a psych test today, but it's an added bonus.

The problem with facebook though is that you now have access to people you would never have access to in the past. Remember that kid you use to play with who lived around the corner or that drama teacher you had a crush on in middle school. There was once a time where you could go "I wonder what happened to this person" and then brush the thought aside. And even if the nagging curiosity got to you, you could ask your parents or the friends you have kept in touch with if they know what happened to this person.

Now, it's completely different. All you need is a name or good research skills and you can find out what happened to your crush from the 3rd grade. It's amazing. And I must admit I am guilty (during my more infrequent nostalgia days) of going through a year book and seeking these people out on facebook. Not even to read their profiles, but just to get some glimpse of who they are in some attempt to get some insight into their lives.

But it has always stopped there. I have rarely pressed the 'add as friend' button (though it's tempting). I talk about my past a lot but there is something about befriending someone who I don't really know anymore. I mean I could be over thinking this. But in all honesty if I'm seeking out Diane from around the corner ( a person i once knew) it's not really because I want to know what she is doing now and want to grab drinks with her. I mean a part of it is, but I think the real reason is because I want to connect to that part of my life that no longer exists.

Now this does not mean that I won't accept a request from a person I once knew. For some reason Graduation has spurred a lot of requests from people in my past. Two of my best friends from childhood contacted me late last year and I was thrilled to reconnect. Of course it went no further then emails and comments on pictures but I was okay with that. I would soon find out that one contacted me because his mother had just died and he needed to be reminded of times when she was alive (which included memories of me and orchestra class) and the other had to leave school early (financial reasons) and she wanted an old friend to talk to. So now you know why I don't take these requests seriously.

So waking up early today in order to get some writing done (blogging counts) I was a little apprehensive when I saw a friends request from a kid I knew way back when. His name is David and we went to elementary and middle school together. He was actually a really good friend at the time. I went to all of his birthday parties, and ate lunch with him regularly. He was a drama nerd and I was a 'serious' screenwriter back then, so we were a creative match. The apprehension did not come from the out of the blue request. It came from the fact that this is not the first encounter I have had with this kid. But the first time I was the one seeking him out.

When I had to leave my first college because of financial aid reasons I was the most miserable I have ever been. This is no exaggeration. I was what some would consider a 'hot mess'. At the time I felt as if I were this big failure and this was probably my first real encounter with depression. Needless to say I was on the 'google your friends online' bandwagon before it got popular. At the time facebook was exclusive, and I don't believe myspace existed (or it wasn't as known as it is now) so I just googled names . The only person who I could find was David simply because he was taking this acting thing seriously and had a website set up with his Resume. On the website was an email address and being the idiot that I am I emailed him. To this day, I regret that.

I got an email a few days later. And after debating whether I should open it or not, I found the courage to read the damn thing. And luckily because I didn't lie when I said I document everything I have the email for you. I wrote it down (word for word) in my journal because the content was heartbreaking:

Hi there...this seems to be the summer for blast from the past, as I recently got in touch with a high school friend whom I haven't seen in two years, but you've definitely beat her out...Mrs.Bruno's class in the 5th grade....WOW!

The letter starts out great. But it goes downhill from there

I'm trying really hard, and I'm not sure if I remember you or not. I'm terribly sorry, but I have a bad memory for names, and unfortunately your isn't triggering my memory. If you have a picture you could send that might help jostle my memory, though (as you've seen pictures of the current 'me' on my website) we have each probably changed a good deal since 7th grade.

Good luck with the pre-med! I know I could never do that....but screenwriting is something I've definitely tried my hand at! I hope you have fun and succeed with everything!

I certainly did not expect to find this in my inbox when I logged on. Hopefully we'll find some way to bring back the memories...Oh, god, seven years ago back. Thanks for getting in touch!Ciao!

The end. When I got this letter five years ago I was pissed. Not so much because he didn't remember who I was but because I had spent all of my time remembering who he was. Remembering who all of them were. In my mind they had never stopped being my friend. In my mind we were just divided by distance, nothing more or less. And in a way, his letter was a slap in my face from my own hand for hanging on to something and some people who were no longer mine in the present tense. They were mine and they remain mine only in memories where we never grew up.

So this friend request was weird. I don't know if he befriended me because he has an idea of the girl he knew in the 5th grade or because he remembers the girl who wrote him five years ago. In any case, I am brushing this aside as another reminder of the times. That we have become so accessible to people we once knew but who we don't really know anymore. Sure I checked out his pictures and read some of his wall comments but this kid is a stranger to me now, as I am one to him.

F*cking facebook. Anyway, I am suppose to be writing stories but I can't stop reading books. I am preparing myself for my internship in August by reading a crapload of romance books. I use to love these things but now they seem like frivolous excursions to places where members are always throbbing and bosoms are always rising and falling. I just finished a book where a woman has fallen in love with a werewolf. She is treating him (yeah, she's a doctor) because he's an alcoholic who has blackouts. The blackouts turn out to be connected to his claim that he is a werewolf. Of course they fall in love yadda yadda yadda. I've never read a book about a werewolf, so all I could think about was whether she was going to have sex with the wolf or the man (turns out having sex with a beast is illegal). I am not much of a feminist but this books (targeted towards women) are fun to read but questionable. But that's a whole post in and of itself. I have put those books aside to read The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis. I love this guy. I have read The Informers, Less Than Zero, and American Psycho. I think his dialogue is to die for.

~Beck

Going to the D of the C.

When Angie got her job in Washington DC, we made plans almost immediately for me to come and visit her as soon as she settled into her job and new settings.

I can't reiterate how hard living in New York is. It's when you have money but if you don't it's literally a place you work your ass off in only to survive on the basic needs. She was laid off from her job in November and quickly got work at the bookstore. But she still lived in an apartment whose rent alone was $1400. So by May she had no choice but to pack up and leave.

At the time we didn't think about becoming roommates. That would have solved a lot of our problems (her rent problem and my aunt problem). We only thought of this afterwards when I began my slight apartment search before I came home. Nevertheless she has been in the DC area for about 6 weeks and I am sort of ready to see her.

The way DC works (i guess) is that it is so close to Maryland you can pretty much commute without much trouble. She lives right on the border which gives her access to the metro area and to her apartment somewhere in Maryland where young professionals live. Whatever that means. She says there are plenty of bars and coffee shops (which also sell books) that we can go to and plus we can do some touristy stuff in DC.

My first and only trip to Maryland was when I was in the 6th grade. It was a two day excursion from New York to the what we thought was the country. Because most of us had never been anywhere outside of Westchester, everything north, south, east or west of our area constituted to the country, by proxy. Early on in the year our school mandated where each floor (because for some reasons each floor (considered a 'house') held a certain number of 6th graders divided up at the beginning of the year by academic standing. It was weird) of our 3 story school would go for the end of the year trip. I say we got lucky (house 1) with Baltimore because we were the only house to have a overnight trip.

My memory of the trip is limited. I remember going to cardinals (?) game and cheering for the Yankees who weren't even playing. I remember hanging out with my bunk makes at the mall as we pretended to be adults because for 30 minutes we were left unchaperoned by the teachers at this huge mall overlooking the ocean. The mall was located on a pier and at the time this was the most amazing sight we had ever seen. I remember going to a Imax theater where we watched a movie about Everest. We then went to a slave museum that resembled a haunted house only because of the displays of people shackled and wax figures missing limbs. We headed to a hands on activity museum where I hung out with one of my many crushes back then.

At night we called random rooms looking for our friends. The teachers came to each room and wished us goodnight. The chaperons for our house were my English and math teacher. My English teacher was a British lady who liked to straighten my collar a lot, and she let me take books home from class. My math teacher was actually a substitute who took over for the math teacher who was on maternity leave. His name was Mr. Stumpo and he was 26. We all thought he was the hottest thing in the whole entire world except that he had a temper. When we weren't paying attention in class he would bang his fist against the board and give a 10 minute lecture on respect. Sometimes we could hear him (with us other class) two rooms away and Ms. Gardner (the perfect name for a British English teacher) would wait until he finished ranting to continue her lessons.

Anyway, when they came to our doors to wish us goodnight they gave his snacks from the vending machine. As the door closed I accidentally said 'bye dad'. For the rest of the year he was really nice to me and gave my butter cookies for being a good kid.

I imagine my trip to Maryland and DC will be a little different this time around. I am not twelve anymore, for one thing and there will be no malls or piers in my future. I was suppose to go on my first adult trip this Friday (sans mom), but the computer thing was stressing me out and I had no plans of booking it to DC without my computer in working condition (and plus I need to save all the money I have). Angie was a little disappointed but I figure I can see her on the weekend once I am back in the New York area. It will cost a lot less to get there from New York then where I live now.

Instead this Friday Marie had the 'brilliant' idea to get in touch with our old librarian. We were in the Media club in high school ( told you I was a nerd) and worked with her for four years. She let us eat in the library and she got us out of drivers ed. Marie and I are the only people from the media club to have not seen her since graduation which is sort of bad because we were the closest to her.

Last week Marie and I got in contact with her, and agreed to have brunch with her sometime in the future. We are feeling a little apprehensive about this because when we knew her we were angry antsy awkward teenagers and now we are just awkward adults. We both talked to her on the phone a week ago and we didn't know what to say to her. Marie kept telling her about my life and I kept telling her about Marie's life. Together we are hoping that we will make one cohesive put together adult because separately we both failed in that department.

Anyway, I should get some writing done. I have sort of a block that has nothing to do with lack of ideas but anxiety over whether my words matter. Damn.

Changes

I could sense the cobwebs growing on this things. I know I have not been the best blogger this last year but I am working on it...one blog post at a time.

I've been home for a little under 3 weeks and the sense of cabin fever is growing on me. Without a car, friends, or even a computer for the last couple of days, I have been trapped inside my house for at least 23 hours a day. This has reminded me of my sense of isolation here, my sense of not belonging and thus longing to be any place else.

I mean the home life is amazing. My mom is glad to have her daughter back home, my brother is glad to have my things to use for the next few weeks, and I am glad for being fed on a regular basis (a luxury I did not have at my aunts). Of course I am happy to be home too. I understand that I may have rushed the whole leaving home thing. I mean days after graduation I was on a train to New York with grandiose assumptions that didn't pan out exactly the way I planned.

But in essence nothing was really planned. I just sort of ran away from home, leaving everything as it was without even trying to tidy up my space here. And it was easy to run away, under the pretense of starting this new life somewhere else. Under the pretense that it had nothing to do with my sense of dread here. So coming back has been a little weird. As if I have stepped into this house that resembles my home except it misses the things that gave it character and heart. And in some way I think that is why my mom needed me here, even if it is only for a little while. She just needed this place to feel like it once did before everything sort of changed.

Speaking of changes, in a couple of days I will have been blogging for four years. This seems insane to me that four years ago I was 19 years old and just starting out on this thing. I still refer to this as my journal because for some reason calling it blog doesn't really fit what I've been writing for the past few years. I think blogs have an agenda and for me I've only wanted to just have a space I could write on. In the age of technology it was just easier to write online than in a notepad.

Four years is a long time. In a way I feel like the same person yet completely different. It's a weird adjustment phase for me because I am on the cusp of whatever adulthood is and instead of having some great epiphany about myself I am struck by the similarities of the girl I am and was.

Case in point: Before leaving New York I decided to concentrate on writing some creative nonfiction. Ever since graduating from college Marie and I have been talking on the phone or texting at least once a day. To date she is the person I have been friends with the longest. I mean we met on the first day of 7th grade and it's been great heartache from then. We are the best of friends and the worst of friends. This last year we have relied on each other for moral support. I have a social while she has a career. She harps about how lonely she is while I complain about struggling to find a job and a sense of direction. We both tell each other it will be okay. That we will be okay before she manages to annoy me on the phone and before I annoy her with my sensitivity. We hang up pissed at each other and then start the whole thing the next day. It works

Anyway, I talk to Marie about writing because I am trying to share my creative ideas with people I trust. I can't be a writer who doesn't talk about her writing because where will that get me. Marie is not the biggest help in the world, but she listens and she does pull me back when my ideas are a little far fetched (like trying to write a story about Peru when I've never been. I am still working on that one). Because we talk about our past a lot, it seemed only fitting that I do some creative nonfiction. I mean I was reading a lot of memoirs and collection of stories by such authors and it seems easy to do. I mean I write about my life almost daily (weekly? okay monthly) and I don't have to much problem doing that. Marie thought it was a good idea and she suggested that I go over some of my journals from the ages I wanted to write about.

This sounded like a good idea, until I got home and started reading the journals I'd written from 7th grade onward. I was an angry little bugger. I could smell the teenage angst on the pages and it brought me back to a place I never want to revisit. It was frightening because I am not an angry person. But I had boiled everything in to a point where I exploded on paper. I mean it's my handwriting, and my thoughts but not entirely the person I am today. Which is a good thing. The point is, it's great to have this stuff written down. I mean I have written in a journal since I was in the sixth grade (which I still have) and it's nice to look back and recognize the parts of myself that have made me who I am today. Or more importantly see how different I am.

There are changes about me, and like I have written so many times before, I have yet to figure out if these changes are good or bad. But for now, it feels right. I think.

Anyway,

I have to do some major remodeling with this journal. Most of my links are now expired. They've been up since the beginning and it feels only fitting to get rid of the ones that no longer work. So the links will be under construction while I add and delete things. It's about time anyway.

Back In Business

I have my computer back!! If you could only see the smile on my face. I think it could illuminate a very darkened room. Of course I have been surfing the net the last couple of hours instead of anything real productive. What? Sue me. Four weeks without access to a computer has been hell. Okay, only the last week was hell but I'm just saying.

Thank you Geek Squad. How I love thee after cursing thee out the last two weeks.

Regular posting after the holiday weekend. It's a little weird this year trying to celebrate thought tomorrow will mark one year since...you know. We are trying to make the best of it though.

Happy 4th!

Best Buy My Ass

My computer is still broke. Best buy was suppose to have finished it this week but they are giving me the run around. Sorry I cannot write more, I am stuck at the library because I am useless without a computer. Hopefully I will have my computer in the next few days. I have so much to write about now that I have the time to do it. I have not disappeared but I literally have no computer to write anything down with. I miss writing entries. Fingers crossed for some good computer news in the next few days.

Beck

Leaving Prematurely

So today is the day I have been dreading. In less then 4 hours I will be in a cab headed to the airport.

I prematurely said goodbye to my Aunt and Michelle (I teared up with this goodbye) though I still have a note to pen to my aunt, telling her how much fun I had here and that in the future (august) I may (will) need a place to stay until I find an apartment. Grad school is out folks and I have to move on.

Everything people say about New York is true. This place is a fucking hard place to live. It's expensive, the people are tough, and sometimes you wonder what it's all for. What's the point of struggling so hard for nothing more than being able to say that you live here. But outside of the down points, this place is amazing. I dread leaving (even though I will return soon) because this place has tested me more than I could have ever asked for.

I've actually made friends, I actually don't hate my life, and for once I am comfortable with being completely uncomfortable. I am not the same person who moved up here a year ago. This is neither a bad or good thing. I am just altered by my experience and grateful for all of it. I know I am writing as if I am never coming back to this place. In all honesty I am just sad that my life is going to be on hold for a good month.

I've staked my claim here, and determined that this is a place I want to be. Be it a year or more. Time to finish packing. I also have to return some very late library books. Bitches are going to kill me for keeping their books out for a few more days. I wanted to finish up the Virgin Suicides...which is an amazing book.

I will be sans computer (for real) until next week. Best Buy said it would take 3 weeks until my computer is returned to me, and it's only been 2.

Until Then

Becks

2 More Days of Bliss

Enough said.

Leaving is Hard to Do

I am about to go to the post office to mail some of my stuff 'home'. Working at the bookstore means that I now have a collection of books I have not yet read but of course plan to read before who knows when. Literally I have 20 or so new novels lying around. I have read about 4 of them completely. My mom is eager for me to start sending my things home, but I've slacked on that.

This moving shit is no fun. Yesterday my co-worker (and friend) walked me half way home, and I realized as we strolled down the street, that I never want to leave this place. In between our conversation about Heroes and the nickname I have been given at work (Penny. From Inspector Gadget), I was consumed by dread. That once again I have to leave a place just at the moment when things are looking up. And all I could think about on the way home was that I don't want to leave. Not now anyway. For once, my life is not perfect but it isn't completely horrible. I am creating something here. I have started construction on my life and I don't want to leave right when the foundation is being put up.

I don't know what to think about being home for 6 weeks. I am happy to go but not all too thrilled because I know while I am there I will want to escape back to my life here. And I am hoping that not too much changes when I come back. I want to start off right where I left with no major setbacks and roadblocks. Because in all honesty that's what happens when you leave. You come back and nothing was the way you left it, and you have to figure out where you left off.

I am desperately going to miss being here. I am going to miss my friends and even my job. I am going to miss feeling like things are going in my favor for once. I am going to miss my life, the life I don't completely hate.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

So I sent my computer home yesterday. My heart breaks in agony. Okay it's wasn't that dramatic but there is something about being without a computer that is very unnerving. I asked my mom yesterday what people use to do before the whole Internet thing. There was a moment of silence, followed by a laugh: We went outside.


Makes sense to me.

Hopefully it will be fixed before I get home. The last day has been hard enough and I couldn't imagine a whole summer sans computer. I would actually have to find ways to entertain myself without youtube. It doesn't seem right.

I bought my ticket yesterday. So in two weeks I will be home, in my bed, planning my way back here. I can't mention it enough that I do not like Small Town USA. I mean sometimes I get that weird yearning for the peace of quiet there, but soon after I am instantly smacked back into reality and my memories of small town living remind me that I never want to live there again. Seriously.

Marie still lives in the region of our adolescent days and she is miserable there. When we talk it's constantly about the mentality of people and how she feels trap there. Trapped only because she could never do what I'm doing. She has said this to me. She could never just wander around and try to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She could never just get a bookstore job and bum at her relatives until something good comes her way. And because of this she remains at her crappy 'real person' job that she hates because taking a risk on your life is too scary.

The other day she was telling me about a new intern she has. She sent me a text message first. It was a quick 'hot new intern. call you later' message. When she did call me she quickly said that hot new intern has been demoted from hotness because she heard him making some off colored remarks about women and minorities. We now dub him the Nazi, and by her description we are talking serious supporter of the Nazi party.

This was sort of aggravating because I continue to believe that Marie is one of the smartest person I know and yet she continues to be miserable with her life because she is too afraid to change her situation. Yes the economy is bad. Yes getting a job sucks. But she has been in that town for a year, and has yet to make any friends and has yet to be comfortable in the life she has there. And if it were me, I would get the f*ck out of there, build a life for myself somewhere else before she really gets trapped there.

I asked her some questions about the Nazi: what she plans to do with him, has she reminded him that he is only an intern and that sort of discussion will not be tolerated in the work place. She didn't really say anything. She said that she brought it up to him and said that in the future she would write him up but that was it. She then wanted to talk about how she can make his life a living hell while he interns there. I sort of didn't want to talk about that because this has not been the first (nor will it be the last time) time she has brought up her dislike for Small Town USA. That she meets guys and girls like the intern on a daily basis.

I wanted to talk instead about her seriously looking for a job out west (where she has talked about living), about getting a job that she likes that can also pay the bills (she's a pig farmer or something like that) but the more and more I kept bringing this up to her the more she kept changing the subject.

At one point her only friend (Jake) called while we were talking and she said she would call me back. She wanted to discuss the intern with him because Jake and her use to work together before he got promoted. I was purchasing my tickets at the time so I said it was cool if she called me back. She must have had a crappy conversation with him because when she did call me again she was pissed that I wanted to take the train home (planes freak me out).

Yes. Pissed. Because I told her that I finally purchased my train tickets. Bitch went crazy after this. Why are you taking the train? Trains are stupid? You're stupid for wanting to sit on a train for god knows how many hours just because you have an irrational fear of planes (not all planes just the small ones I am always riding on!)? I can't believe you man, that's just ridiculous. How are you ever going to visit all those countries you talk about if you don't want to take a plane? I guess we are never going anywhere any way.

Dude. WTF? At first I didn't really understand what the hell she was talking about. I mean I am the one paying for the ticket. And I am in no rush to get home. So after her tirade I made some excuse so I could get off the phone with her. What a crazy bitch. But then I realized the train/plane thing wasn't the real issue.

Marie and I have always had this weird friendship. In college she rarely called me. I mean when I say I was a loner in college this doesn't exclude Marie. It's not that she ditched me, it's just that she had other friends and I was just the go too. Our friendship is competitive. If we are both having horrible/miserable lives, then we talk. But when ones life is not as miserable, then we want to chastise or find fault in it. I mean I was jealous when she got a boyfriend, and now she continues to criticize my life as some Reality Bites movie. That this is not the way a 23 year old should be living.

And I realized the moment I return to Small Town USA, is the moment we are back on that same playing ground. Where we are both slightly miserable together. And I think she takes great offense when I talk about not wanting to come home because that place and our friendship is different. Not in a bad way but just in a "believe it or not we aren't Middle School anymore" way. Yeah my life is far from perfect, but I like whatever I am building here. It's the reason why come August 1st I have to find my way back. Despite Marie and even my moms desire to have me home.

So, we haven't talked in a few days, which I think is weird because this means that she is mad at me because her life sucks. Who knows. I can't explain it. But I sort of worry about her. I worry that she thinks I am coming back to make things better, which I am not.

Anyway

I am reading some Michael Chabon (hence the post title). He sort of reminds me of every teacher I've ever had a crush on up until college. I don't hate the book, the writing is good but I keep searching for a plot. His description of Pittsburgh is funny and sad. I am hoping that it will grab me at some point. I won't abandon ship until I am completely submerged in crap.

Time for work.

Becks

P.S Oh yeah. I am using my aunts computer. Which means I have to wait until everyone leaves and jump on this thing when I have the chance. I miss my computer so much.

Geek Squad

My computer is dying.

Yep. So I've had this PC for 3 years. I had to get it because my other one literally shut down. The screen faded to black never to see the light of day again. Luckily my mom had the money to buy me a new one and for the last 3 years this computer has had several problems. First the adapter caught on fire, than the new adapter broke, and now in a weird turn of events my computer screen is about to fall off and it is literally being held up by library books. No lie.

I cannot explain how this happened. It's too long of a story. I believe that Michelle was playing near my computer (because I use to keep it out when I was gone) and it fell on the floor. This caused the piece that holds the screen together to break...hence my dilemma. I didn't believe this to be a problem until recently. My computer is overheating and now shuts down and yesterday I noticed video playback and general sound was a little delayed. Fuck me all to hell.

I have a warranty but believe it or not it is up June 9th. This means that my computer has to go to geek squad now in order for it to get fixed. Unfortunately I am leaving in 2 weeks, so I've decided to mail my computer home so it can get fixed there. I won't have to worry about being able to pick it up if it's there.

I will be without my computer for a few weeks (damn) but hopefully I will be able to use my aunt's or at least go to the library to use one. I have no choice but to send my baby off because I can't afford to wait and renew my warranty which would cost me a hefty $370. Can't afford that.

How did we ever live without computers. It seems completely unbearable these days. My writing may be a little sparse here for a while but I promise I'll be around.

Oh, and I got an internship for September. I emailed the Bridgeport lady and told her I would be open to interning with them in the fall (even though I didn't get the job). A few hours later she said that would be perfect. And there you have it. Hopefully this means life for me is starting to look up. I hope

Until then

Becks

Virgin Suicides.

Sorry for the small text. I sort of like it. It reflects my mood in a weird way. I feel sort of small and I want to hide under the covers, preferably because it's warm there.

You' d be embarrassed to know how I have been spending my time. It is neither productive or glamorous but nonetheless very relaxing. In two weeks I head home. Indefinitely that is. I let my bosses know this Saturday after having a hard time telling my manager Paul on Thursday.

Paul is the most amazing manager ever. He is fun and energetic and we like working with him because he doesn't give us a hard time. As Angie said "he knows we are at the bottom of the food chain and yet he treats us like a human being". Paul and I started working at the bookstore the same week. He keeps bringing this up because whenever we have the 'pleasure' of closing the store on a particularly horrid Saturday night , he looks at how messy the store is and turns to me for a game plan: 'we are in this together, partners in a non crime' he says and then we bumped fists like the obama's and get the store clean.

So I figured because we generally like each other, that he would be the easiest person to break the news too. I mean I had my excuse all planned out: 'so..a couple of weeks ago I applied to this writing workshop. It's starts june 22nd which means that I would be gone for about 6 weeks". In my head it sounded like a solid story, better than the truth (my cousin is home for the summer and is complaining about not having a room to sleep in so I kind of have to head home for awhile just until he leaves and I can beg my aunt to let me stay with her for a little while longer)

But for some reason, I couldn't get the lie out of my mouth. Every time I had the perfect opportunity to tell him I bailed. I would start with "so...Paul..." and then ask him a stupid question because the words I wanted to say wouldn't come out. By the end of the night I managed to tell him that I had something coming up soon that would affect my employment there for the summer. He seemed cool with it only because I didn't really explain I wouldn't be in the area for 6 weeks.

On Saturday before I could even psych myself out, I told the first manager I saw that I had a 6 week commitment. She looked worried, concerned and sad but I assured her that I would be back before they even knew it (which I hope to god is true!). I had to give them the dates I will be MIA for and also schedule a return date. We are shooting for August 9th. For real.

I am happy and apprehensive about heading home. I am happy that I won't have to eat frozen food anymore. That I will have a full size bed to sleep in and a lot of free time on my hands to write. My mom will be there, and my brother too and it will be nice to just have some family time with my family.

I am apprehensive about getting trapped there. That come August my aunt will not accept my plea to stay with her a little longer. I need to come back. Believe it or not the jobs are here, even if I am not fairing well in that department. The internships are here too and I am leaning towards another production company because it sort of rocked when it didn't suck.

I have too many things to think about. So many things that sleep is a luxury these days. I usually get to sleep easy, as soon as my head hits the pillow. But it's not so easy these days. There are minutes that go by of complete nothingness where I'm starring at the wall or up at the ceiling just trying to remember how to breathe.

Because of this anxiety, I am very nostalgic these days (the embarrassing but relaxing part of my life). I have been youtubing like crazy. I am going through a list of memories that unfold with each episode of some show I use to watch when I was younger. And in a way I am hoping not to relive those times but capture the essence of them. There is something about listening to "Always Be My Baby" (circa 1996) and thinking 'when the hell did i like Mariah Carey' and then remembering that I only liked her because I thought this song (at the time) captured my relationship with Nicholas (the first of my pedestal boys).

Old Nick shows are pretty much taking up my days. Bet you don't remember 'The Tomorrow People' (I've asked around no one seems to remember this show except my incredibly tv saavy friend)..I do. It was one of my favorite shows when it first came out. I think it was cancelled by the end of the first season but I loved (loved) this show and something about seeing it again soothes me.

It's geeky I know but as I continue to have no idea about the fate of future or what is in store for me, I know that my past is definite. That though the memories may be foggy they existed in some weird way. That there was this time when I was a happy functioning person yearning to grow up so I could become a happy functioning person yearning to continue on.

I'm just saying.

Time to get ready for work. Next week is employee appreciation week and we get 40% off books. I am going to buy 2 summer totes (for my mom and I) and get some old favs and new books. Recently I have noticed a lot of teenagers asking for Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. Every two days some adolescent girl strolls in with her cargo shorts and hobo bag wondering if we have any copies of the book. It's a little weird. I remember reading this book when I was a teenager too but only because the movie was coming out at the time and there was something angelic about Kirsten Dunst on the cover.

I don't remember the book having a profound affect on me. It was good but nothing more. I guess at the time I didn't understand the scope of the narrative. I'd like to re-read it though, if only to see why it seems like some textual go to for girls-on-the-verge. I mean for 40% off it's pretty much a steal.

T o the bookstore I go. What a long post.