Answer to Yourself.

Heats back.

Last night was the worst. I came down with some weird sore throat thing along with an irritated ear a few days ago. And of course the 90 something degrees weather (the humidity making it feel like 95) did not help.

I don't do well in the heat. And for some reason the promise of rain did not come yesterday. It remained a hot sticky day, much of which I spent in bed praying for someone to turn the earthly temp down.

When that didn't happen, i passed out around 3am from what I can only described as stomach cramps and muscles contractions. It was horrible.

Today is promising to be another scorcher. I'm a tad bit dehydrated but I've stocked up on water and Gatorade, I'm hoping that helps. I think my sore throat has everything to do with the heat and am waiting for it to relieve itself.

I have a slow work schedule this week. Three closing shifts and four days to myself. My first two are winding down but it has been a much needed break from work.

Going back to the bookstore on Saturday was weird. When I was younger my first memory of anxiety revolves around embarrassing mistakes made at school. Like the time I got detention for stuffing two tennis balls down my blouse (i was in the fourth grade). We had a substitute teacher that day, and for some reason our normally well behaved class was a nightmare. The minute she saw me stuff my shirt she started jotting my name down.

What she didn't know was that our class was weeks away from performing a play in which I played your classically unappealing witch. We discussed padding my jeans and stomach to make the character round, I added the tennis ball at the last moment because I thought she should have saggy boobs.

By the end of the day half the class had detention, including me the 'golden student' because of my saggy boobs skit. That whole night I was terribly nervous and nauseous about showing up to school to face my teachers disappointment in our behavior. All I could think about was what it was going to be like to head into school the next day. I expected stares, and glares and a few pitiful bowed heads when I walked into the building. I expected to see Ms. Mooney disappointed in all of us, including me. And it was just like that when I showed up to class. And when she read the detention list, everyone gasped when my name was called . It was mortifying

Every since then, the 'day after' is terrifying. And the day after I cried at work, was bound to be awkward. Not only was Friday a disaster but getting super emotional at work is uncharacteristic for me. Despite being this rather 'sensitive' person, I hate being emotional in front of other people. It's the reason I tend to me a loner. I'd rather wallow alone with my thoughts, than bring someone else into it.

And that's sort of the problem. I keep forgetting that it's okay to let people into my head every once in a while. It's alright to admit, sometimes, that I'm a human being with shit days. It was funny, because after I got all chocked up in front of Her she said 'I always thought you were like that robot from that show Small Wonders. Because you are always so upbeat and happy, I forget sometimes that you are like this real person outside of work'

And it's true. I close people off from me when it comes to any real sort of emotion and it makes getting to know the 'real' me very difficult. And though I never approve of crying at work, I couldn't help it when she reached out to me and said 'i don't really have any friends, but we can be a lonely party of two whenever you feel like it'.

Of course I won't see her until Wednesday, and it will be an awkward 'hey how are you' greeting but sometimes it feels good not having to pretend everything is a-OK in my life. Because some days it sucks hard.

Though she wasn't there this weekend, I had to face Matt (guy who got in a parking lot brawl) and McAbs who both kept watching me as if I were about to shatter into a million pieces. Matt tentatively came up to me and asked if I was okay. When I responded with an elongated "yes" he said 'Oh, because you weren't feeling too well on Friday, I just wanted to make sure you were...you know..okay". Then he spent the rest of the night being overly nice and concerned about my well being.

McAbs on the other hand offered me a kitten. Another one. Remind me never to have another bad day at work again.

Until, Wednesday I have a few good hours left of my day off. I finished Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon and I've just started "Bastard Out of Carolina". I wanted to read something really southern to go along with the southern-like temperatures.

Can't go wrong with a good reading day.

Returning to the Scene of the Crime.

Yesterday was an emotional wrought night of tears, jeers and other random emotional breakdowns at work. And I can't even contribute all of these emotions to me.



To sum up yesterday:



1) I cried in front of co-worker (the girl I consider my closet friend there. She was upset because she can't keep a dog she rescued in her apartment anymore,and she thought I was mad at her because I was not in a good mood yesterday. I was not in a good mood because of work and because fourth of July is a week away). It was a completely frustrating tear fest of ' I'm not always a happy smiley person. Some days just suck. today especially' followed by her proclaiming 'me neither'. Lifetime movie, anyone?

2) The Store Manager was fired causing us all to lose our shit! We like the way she runs the store, with her leaving things are going to get ugly. She wouldn't go as far as to say she was fired, she said it was a 'mutual' decision between her and the company. But in my experience, there is no such thing as a mutual decision between two opposing people.

3) One of the boys got in a fight the other night. He seemed distraught/excited about the whole event. So it didn't help when I told him to 'shut up' some time earlier because I thought he was mocking my sad demeanor. I guess taken aback by my response, he kept apologizing to me all night feigning concern for me, in order to make sure I didn't perceive him as an asshole. He then went into the male version of a sob fest regarding the fight, but I was not to interested in hearing.

4) An annoying coworker was promoted to head cashier, and now she is on a 'power trip'. She didn't land a teaching position post grad (welcome to the club) and she wanted a full time position. But yesterday she referred to herself as a 'manager' and said she was going to use her teacher tactics to get us into shape. Did I mention that she's 22 and gives directions as if the map is tacked to her ass. That's unfair, I now but seriously.

5) McAbs and I got into an argument regarding my privacy. 'Co-worker who got in a fist fight' stumbled across me and 'co-worker who saved a dog' after our tear fest. He looked confused and amiss in our aisle of tears, he must have gone and told McAbs about it because 30 minutes later, McAbs wanted to give me a hug. A real one.

As I was leaving, he wanted to know what was up, but I immediately sensed he was being noisy. I told him that sometimes it's better not to know everything about the people we work with. What good would that do. He seemed all offended, which is weird because he said the same thing to me...what...four weeks ago. He said something along the lines of 'that unfair. but if you want to keep your business to yourself. go ahead. it's not like i care anyway'.

Damn. All in the span of what, an eight our shift.

I have to close tonight, and I can't help but feel as if I am returning to scene of a crime. A crime where tears were shed, egos were busted and people were fired.

I don't think I'm ready for this.

Because I Adore You and Your Frog Boots!

Today is one of my favorite days. It's my friend Frogboots birthday, and I will spend it thanking the interweb for having introduced me to her.

I am a very sneaky, private, illusive person. I like my hidden spaces and locked doors. But in FrogBoots I have found my cosmic twin. In her, I have let my defenses down. And today is her special day.

I had a cool dream last night. No lie.

We were having a picnic in a park. You were laughing, which is a good thing, and I was at ease. Which I tend to not always be. It was simple and perfect.

I want to wish a very happy birthday. I don't know if you know this, but I adore you more than you will ever know.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROGBOOTS!!!!!!!

Welcome to Adulthood

The last couple of days have not gone by well.

Okay, I take that back. Monday and Tuesday were awesome, Wednesday sucked hell.

I was off Monday and Tuesday, and I spent those days reading Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon, crushing on this guy for a bit and watching soccer. I freaking love soccer. Seriously.

But then I had to go to work yesterday and my general 'happy mood was quickly replaced by frustration and rage. I am not an angry person. I stress this a lot because I come from a family of angry men. I have seen the depths of anger at it's cruelest and because of this I refuse to be angry. Hell I get frustrated and pissed, I am not perfect, but anger is not an emotion I will ever accept.

But yesterday I toyed the loose line between frustration and built up 'rage'. It's bad enough that I hate my job but the current suckassness of it isn't helping. I do love the flexibility of book store life, and my co-workers are for the most part, awesome. But the incompetence of one manager, followed by a work schedule that consists of only three closing shifts next week...is bullshit.

As soon as I walked into worked I checked my schedule. Though I expected hours to be a little funky because of all the new additions, I wasn't expecting my hours to get slashed so drastically. I work Sunday, Wednesday and Friday for goodness sakes. I will be able to afford food and nothing else for a bit.

Compared to everyone else's shift I feel like I was given the short end of the stick. I complained to my mom about this and she said that I should talk to a manager about it. But at this point, I don't feel like I should be competing for hours. I do my work, I do it well. My hours should indicate that level of work and yet, I get three days next week. All closing shifts, one of those shifts on the night Eclipse comes out.

Pretty much after the schedule thing I was in a crap mood (and even a little emotional. I wanted to cry, I even teared up a little. During my 15 minute break I frantically wrote in my journal 'there is this huge possibility, you see, that I might be fucking this up. fucking up the parts of me that are suppose to be human. all of the important parts that keep a person going. How incredibly empty that feeling is. How strangely immobilizing if not scary'. Some how this fragmented stream of conscious thought calmed me down a bit). And guess who was closing last night, to make things even more difficult and crappy than the needed to be. Yeah, 'crappy insane manager'.

'Crappy Insane' Manager (CI) cannot manage people. Instead of telling us what to do she suggests it, which is both patronizing and passive aggressive. I avoid her as much as I can, even when I close with her, I refuse to speak to her because of her lack of management skills. She knows that I do not like her, and even though I have a tendency of being a pushover I refuse to take crap from her. She is intimidated by this, and since that night she went all ape shit on me, she hasn't done it since.

Last night, we didn't get out of the store until 11:45 because CI started pulling tills too late and then tried to make it seem as if it was because 'we' spent the whole night talking instead of cleaning the store. Earlier in my shift she painfully telling me to do a simple task that I was already doing. She kept repeating the request 'could you work on this' as I was doing it, as if I was deaf. I turned to her aggressively and said 'I'm doing it. no need to keep repeating it' to which she replied 'oh, you just looked a little confused. I'm sorry".

So when 11:20 rick rolled around, and we were still at the store my frustration with her and my dumb job hit a boiling point. At 11:35, she finally emerged from the office but by then we'd grown sick of her stalling tactic (she hadn't finished counting so she can't assigning unnecessary tasks over the PA:'could you guys make sure the break room table is neat') we were camped out at customer service waiting to get the go ahead that we could get our stuff.

But that was not the case. CI decided to give a store tour instead. Yes, people a store tour. To familiarize us with recent changes on the floor. Of our own store.

The two new people smiled and followed, I rolled my eyes and shot her the death stare. This is the second time in which I have closed with her that she completely ass backwards. A tour of some of the recent changes would have been acceptable hours earlier, but seeing that most of us were on the floor already (cleaning) it was a very ill intentioned attempt to divert our attention from her lack of direction.

I despise her and summoning up the strength to go to work is becoming a chore. I need an alternative to this work situation. I hope that a regular 9-5 gig comes my way soon, or I will need to get a second job. Which at this point wouldn't be a bad idea. I need to save money. Lots of it. I intend on doing everything I need to in order to be apart of a UK production scheme. To me, this is the equivalent to applying to grad school. And it's a big deal.

Where I lack rational plan making skills, I have never worked harder to prepare myself for working abroad. But until I have landed in England with a production scheme to look forward to, I need to take afloat here. Emotionally, mentally, and financially.

Yep, being an adult officially sucks!

Honestly Ok

Tonight was dreadful.

My anxiety flares up at the most awful times. As if to remind me that I am not alright. As if to point out to everyone I know that there is a weird socially awkward girl amongst them.

I find myself making leaps and bounds on the anxiety front. I no longer duck and hide to avoid interactions with people. I am much more open about being a little antsy, and in a way being able to talk to people about it makes me feel...better.

And hey, there was no way that I thought being here for two years would cure me, but I felt that I was doing better. But then I have nights like tonight, where my anxiety wakes up. It shakes, rattles and rolls directly to the surface and I am overcome by it.

Tonight, I found myself surrounded by familiar faces who I have come to know and like on an individual level. People who I have strong connections too. But the moment that small group of people morphed into 5 or 6 of us, standing around at customer service waiting for the manager to relieve us from that god awful place, I froze up.

I found myself not being able to breathe. I found myself fading away. From the conversation, from their eyesight. I wanted to stay with them and be a normal person for once and communicate with my peers. I wanted to laugh at their jokes and convince them that I too would be attending a much hyped pool party in two weeks. but of course I eventually drifted from them until I was in a safe little corner, far far away, where the only voice I could hear was my own irrational one trying to hold back what feels like a beast inside of me.

And by the time we were finished cleaning up, I had removed myself so far from them that they forgot I was there. It wasn't until we grabbed our stuff from the break room did they ask what had happened to me.

But I was too inside my head to respond. I kept thinking, why can't I just do this. Be less anxious, be a freaking normal 24 year old.

Why can't I just do this. Where did I start to fall apart allowing this 'thing' to emerge and eclipse me. I find myself on nights like these wanting to pinpoint the exact moment it all began and ripping it from my memories.

Maybe it began the moment that car struck us, sending us through the air and into a ditch, causing my face to resemble that of a boxer after a tough fight. Maybe it was in the 9th grade when He said I ' wasn't ugly but...' in front of my acting class but then he never answered as everyone waited patiently.

Or maybe it was earlier, way earlier, during the days I felt like a grown up because everyone around me seemed too lost to be one.

Whatever that point it is, I want to claw it out of me and discard it. Because it has fucked me up. I want to claw out that moment in time where I started hiding to escape the noise, to escape the fear. Because it has made me a screwy and insecure person yearning to fall into my skin again and be normal.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I've Got the Starving Part Down...

This month, surprisingly like March, April and May, is flying by.

How is it already the 18th? That means I have to pay rent soon (argh) which means I will be even poorer than I already am. There's this dumb new show on Bravo called Work of Art that I started watching because...it was late and nothing else was on. It's another reality show competition , produced by sarah jessica parker, where artist duke it out every week creating 'works of art' for subsequent evaluation.

It's a pretty pompous show. One, I couldn't imagine having to create something under the guise of a competition show. To me that is not what art is. It's a process, sometimes slow or sometimes chaotic. But if someone told me today that I had to come up with a story featuring some just imagine concept, I could do it, but it would take more than 24 hours. I'd have to sit with the concept for a while, let it marinate, and then proceed from there. But alas that is not how reality competition works, and if sarah jessica parker says create a piece in less than 48 hours for the chance to win a buttload of money, well then you do it.

Secondly, some of the artist on this show remind me of very well to do kids, complaining out how hard it is to create art and survive. What I find hilarious about the show is the comparison between my imagined sense of the 'starving artist' vs. the participants on the show. In my world, the starving artist is just that. He or She is most likely a scruffy looking, neurotic, chain smoking individual who lacks the nutritional or hygienic desire to eat well or shower. Cliche yes, but all too true. On this show however, even the scruffiest of contestants are donning Banana Republic v-neck sweaters. It's like when you see Brad Pitt in a magazine looking like a homeless guy, only to realize that it cost thousands of dollars for him to look that unkempt.

The people on the show are your quintessential eccentric, too into their art...hipsters. And some how when they proclaim that they have suffered for their art and are broke beyond broke, I can't help but stare at his or her too 'cool for school' scarf thinking otherwise (I'm talking to you Ryan!). Miles, Ryan and Nicole exemply my observation of this. Hearing them talk almost hurts. I think Ryan even said he sleeps in a car. I could have died with laughter.

I would not call myself an artist, but I've got the starving brokeassness thing down. The other day my friend from work asked what was wrong with my shoes. I looked down to see the state of my well intentioned green flats were beyond destroyed. They are not even shoes anymore. They are simply fabric being held together by string. The bottom of the sole doesn't even exist anymore. It's not that I can't afford new shoes, but I am prioritizing necessities, and new shoes isn't on the list. And it was then that I realize I am a broke individual. Not poor, but broke. When did 24 become so awesome!

I do worry about money almost every single day. Without help from the moms, I could not afford, in any regards, to live here. Not on the bookstore money anyway. And now there is a bunch of new people (and one random intern. yes, an intern) who I am training and trying to make feel comfortable even though I know they will take the hours away from me. I am not a full time employee there, and when things get slow I am the first one to see a decrease in hours (and they just made a girl who just graduated from school a full-time employee. great).

This UK thing won't start until next summer (fingers crossed). Which is good, because I can work out my passport and visa issue, secure a traineeship program with a company and have money to live aboard. But until then I have to figure out ways to stay afloat here. The job applying, job hunt still continues but I'm seriously considering getting a second job. I need the money or more importantly I need to lighten the stress. And I could use some new shoes apparently

I guess that's why I wish the days weren't moving by so fast. July already is going to be a busy and expensive month for me, and it isn't even here yet. I am going home for a whopping 10 days that month, followed by a weekend visit from Angie at the end of July.

I managed to save up 40 vacation hours this year, which means I can go home and still get paid as if I had worked for a week. I still have my concerns being gone for that long. Don't get me wrong, I look forward to being in South Carolina for a while and eating non frozen food in my home, but the responsibilities here are weighing heavy in my mind.

I'm attempting to relieve the stress through fun activities. The other night I hung out at a co-workers house, playing dumb boy games (super hero dungeons and dragons. I watched more than anything) with two of them while eating a version of Parmesan chicken that only twenty something year old boys could imagine. It was an amazing night. I was there until 10, laughing and enjoying my time. I haven't done this in a very long time. And despite my apprehensions about hanging out, I need to loosen up a little. Or this poor starving artist thing will be the death of me.

Time Flies.

Oasis released another greatest hits album today (seriously, oasis. You sort of hit your peak in the states circa the 90's. I can't name an oasis song to date that hasn't come off What's the Story (morning glory) or Definitely Maybe. And two greatest hits album featuring a track list of the same songs is well...unnecessary) which made me very nostalgic about my childhood.

Appropriately the album is called Time Flies, and because of this release I went on sort of an Oasis binge today. It was great.

Adults aren't lying when they harp about cherishing your youth. It is one of the things we will never get back. I will never be 12 again, or 16 or hell, even 23 seems like a lifetime ago. And even when I look back at those years, reliving the beauty and misery of it, I am filled with sadness because I won't ever be able to experience it again. Nostalgia is a double edge sword, which reminds you of the good old days while the clock ticks next to you.

I have had my fair share of days when I wish I would have enjoyed certain ages a lot more than I did. 16-18 were dreadful. I was an antisocial, introvert who was too perceptive for her own good. My high school experience lacked the corny and terribly cliched moments I now wished they did. I didn't even take my senior portrait out of anger and general lack of interest. But, I look back now and realize I had all the opportunities to have an exciting time then, if I had spent more of my days being 17 than wishing to be anything but. I don't regret my time, that would be too self deprecating but I do wish I would have spent more time in the moment than trying to move on so quickly from it.

Time Flies. No matter how hard we want to stop it in it's track. And a part of getting older, for me anyway, is accepting this universal fact. Or more honesty, not being afraid of this universal fact. I wouldn't go as far to proclaim a Carpe Diem mantra here, that is too cheesy. But I do want to enjoy being whatever age I am, at the present moment. Cause I'll only be 24 once. In ten years even this age will seem incomprehensible to me. Being this young will feel like a dream.


And the older I get the more I am dying to be young. I am dying to embrace my twenties. I am dying to be impulsive, and flighty. To enjoy the randomness that comes along with trying to be a person. I feel like that's what your twenties are all about. Chaotic yes, but from that something---I mean someone--- is born.

A couple of weeks ago I was dragging myself around work, depressed out of my mind about everything. Work, the job hunting front, the new people, the old people, my sense of desperation. It was horrible. But through that I remembered something I had seem on a networking site I joined a few months back. This website gives me limited access to the companies I am interested in working for. BBC being one of them.

On the BBC newsletter they announce new employees, and the credentials on one employee,who is around the same age as me, was pretty...fantastic. Apparently she spent a good year overseas to understand international programming. Not only European but the Asian market. Thanks to that glimmer of insight I thought, 'hey, why couldn't I do the same thing'. I'm young, I have the time to do it, and I the love the BBC.

At first this appeared like one of my 'ideas' that sound better in my head than in reality. But damn it all to hell people, there are program of this nature suited for people like me who lack experience in an industry that treasures it. The reason why I am interested in doing this abroad is because I am amazed by UK programming. The shows are brilliant, and witty and funny. Their shows are iconic and imaginative. I catch myself these days watching Dr. Who, Torchwood, Survivors, The IT Crowd in awe of the writing and the representation of the diverse culture there.

The production schemes are lengthy. A year or more depending on which company I apply to. But it's a combination of real world training with learning aspects too invaluable to pass up. I could attempt to find a program like that here but even the one with NBC is tailored to entry level candidates with graduate degrees and previous production experience. The ones in the UK are tailored for people who want t a job in film and television but who have not been able to get one.

I wish I would have known about this sooner. As of today most of the sessions are just now starting, which means I will have to wait a few months until one of these production schemes open up. But in that time, which I will spend learning everything I need to know to be a successful applicant, I can obtain my passport and get a clear understanding of this work visa thing.

If all works out, I could have a legit (seriously legit) experience working overseas, learning and working in an international setting. Could you imagine.

This is the first time in months I have felt 'on' to something. This is the first time in months I am confidant this could work out. And yeah, I still have to figure out how I can afford to travel (or if I can get sponsored by the company in regards to this visa issue) but this is the thing someone my age does, right? This is something I would and want to do.

And can you imagine what I will see and subsequently write about abroad! The schemes are divided into four month department training (radio, production, research) which are located in Manchester, London and Scotland (Scotland!). Travel expenses are paid for to the various locations, though boarding is on me. But it doesn't matter, because time is flying. My experiences will continue, of course, but time is whizzing by. And I no longer want to to feel a sense of emptiness when I look back on my life.

So I'm am working on being UK bound. And not in the daydreaming sort of way (though my thoughts are invaded with British accents as of late). I am preparing myself and my application (visas, scheme placement requirements, passport) in advance so that this will work out. I'm extremely excited and scared, but completely sure this is something I can do.

Spam, Newbies, and Migrating...

I can't wait for tomorrow. I feel like my whole week revolves around making it to Tuesday and Thursday, my perfectly scheduled and utilized days off. But it's only Monday. Which means one more day at the bookstore before I can wake up late and watch Mr. Bean all day long.

Speaking of the bookstore, 5 new people were hired in the span of two weeks. 5 of them! June turned out to be the month everyone scheduled to go on vacation, which doesn't help when you are a poorly staffed bookstore. So in one day we went from having no one to cover shifts, breaks, and other generalities to having 5 new faces to help.

They new people are nice. All fresh faced and happy to have a job. 4 out the 5 hires are boys. One painfully too attractive to have a crush on, the other admittedly into boys as much as I am too have a crush on, and the other two high five one another as if they have been friends since high school. And since they are both ( i believe 19) I wouldn't put it past them.


One of the 19 year old (Steve? Dan? Peter?Sam?) will grow up to be that slightly odd looking but cute and confidant artsy boy girls like me fall in like with. He wears glasses, he is skinny but some how in shape, his head is way too big for his body but that just means he's smart right? I heard him tell a customer that he writes screenplays and makes films. He reminds me a little of Art Boy from way back, just without the personality.

Unless you are mocking the lameness of high fives, proceeding to initiate one is, well, unappealing. My friend at work has already called crush dibs on him. But she doesn't know that after working with him for a day, I am not to sure that he has the personality to sustain any interest. I find myself not wanting to be around him as much as his face would make me want to believe.

I am officially training said new people, making me feel all kinds of 'important'. More like miserable, but we won't go into that. I am learning that the only beacon of hope I have is well...Hope.

It turns out my UK plan is not as irrational as I thought it was. There are actual production schemes that run from a year to 18 months overseas. It is no shock here that I desperately want to go to the UK. I've been planning my imaginary trip since I was 14. And I'm not going to lie and say that I have rational plans, BUT this may work out. Seriously.

If I were accepted to one of these production schemes I would make an entry level salary to study and work abroad.But more on this tomorrow. I still am trying to understand work visas, because before any of this can pan out I have to obtain authorization to work overseas. This possibility though, has lifted my mood some. Could you imagine, me? overseas? for 18 months. I must calm down now!

And the last of my ramblings. I have some concern about comment moderation on my dear blog. I've been getting a lot of comments featuring Chinese characters (I only know this because I googled the translations), which is totally awesome. The reason this blog remains open to the public is because I like being accessible to people reading my journal. I've 'met' the most awesome people due to this journal experience, all because they stumbled across it via Kurt Vonnegut or who knows what.

There have been times however, where I have considered making this a private journal, but I can't do it. I don't know who is reading Everything Was (and somewhere deep inside, I hope there is at least one nerdy 15 year old living in a crappy town thinking she or he may never escape it, reading this. It gets better. It does) , and I wouldn't want to all of a sudden shut some readers out because they've never commented. Hell I don't even comment on the blogs I read, so I don't hold not commenting against anyone.

So Everything Was remains open to the public. BUT, a problem with open blogs is fucking spam. For the most part the Chinese characters I have translated seem legit, but today I woke up and there was this lengthy one which translated into: porn. free porn. sex. porn. boobs. sites. porn. free. xxx'. And that's the abridged version.

Yeah. Not cool. I deleted that mofo the moment I translated it and am running over the other characters to make sure a 'free.sex.girls.girls.girls.' one didn't slip by. I just enabled comment moderation to curb the spam attack, just until I figure out a way to make this blog a little more private (setting up some more security blockades) without isolating anyone. I do love writing here, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. But spam is a pain.

So yeah. That's all. Tomorrow I will write about this UK thing. And if anyone can explain the Visa process to me that would be...the bees knees of help.

Mobile

There was a time when I use to listen to Avril Lavigne. Sue me. I was a junior in high school, musicality is very subjective at that age.

I mean I never donned the tie, and she was far from representing punk music but 'Complicated' was our high school anthem. Sure it was no Teen Spirit, but then again who can ever measure up to that song and Kurt Cobain? At that time, when everything seemed to suck: school, family, life I found solace in Avril Lavigne. Her tunes were catchy and some of her lyrics were pages from my 16 year old journal.

I never asked my mom for anything at 16. My brother was at the apex of his rebellion stage and some days I felt guilty for even the smallest requests. But I really wanted this album, like seriously, and was relieved when she said yes. I listened to this album religiously in my room, before the Avril started getting on my nerves, and songs like 'Nobody's Fool', 'My World' and "Anything But Ordinary' were staple indulges.

But the bees knees of tracks on Let Go, for me anyway, was 'Mobile'. I screamed, along with her, 'Everything's changing/When I turn around/I'm out of my control/I'm a mobile/Everything's changing/Out of what I know/Everywhere I go/I'm a mobile'. Even today this is the only song from her that album that I own and I caught myself this morning jumping around the room singing this tune when it started playing on my Ipod.

More than ever, I feel like everything around me is changing. I want to punch 16 year old me in the face for ever thinking that my problems at the time were difficult. And if any 16 year old is reading this ( hey what's up!) be happy that your only concern in life right now is getting a driver's license, having a crush on a boy you can't have or a teacher who is too old, and feeling that your friends don't understand you. That's a walk in the park compared to this quarter life crisis bullshit.

I feel so aimless. I am standing at point A and I can see point B, but I have no idea how to get there. I don't even know how to ask for directions to that point. So instead I am freaking stuck at point A, teetering about wondering when I will finally connect the dots. And it doesn't help that I a getting older which just makes me feel like I should have my life figured out. But I don't, I'm not even close to that.

The bookstore has hired five new fresh faced employees, making me realize that yes indeed I have been there 2 years. Holy crap, where did those two year go? Why am I still there? Why have I not moved on? Two of these newbies started working there 3 week ago, but yesterday I walked into work in a sour mood and saw three new bodies striding out of the break room. I ran to customer service and frantically asked 'who the hell are those people'.

No one answered my question, they were too busy telling me about something else. So I repeated my concern again. For some reason I thought we were giving a store tour and that's why these people wearing name tags and walking with the store manager. But then it occurred to me that these in fact were new people. Like I once was. Then someone said 'calmly': Oh that's just the new people. I just met them, they seem nice.

Nice, maybe? But you can tell when you have worked in a place for too long because all of sudden I was struck by how many new faces I have seen come and go. I was actually told this by someone when I first started working there. That you see so many people come and go, it's a part of the job. And yet I am still there. Why is that? It's perplexing but even worse it's painful.

I live in a place where change happens all the time. Buildings are constantly being built. People come here to reinvent themselves (maybe that is why I did). Fads come and go, people come and go, and yet I....

It doesn't mean that I am not trying to initiate change. My latest attempt in 'having a life' is in trying to locate production traineeship programs in the UK. I am interested in international television, along with travel and am attempting to combine my need for a both a physical and opportunist change. I thought of this idea at work this weekend (the internal conversation went something like this: I like the UK, eventually I want to work in broadcast media for a UK based company, hey....) and my research skills have prevailed in this new venture. There are indeed programs for entry level candidates in the UK in broadcast media. I am not sure if they are targeted only for UK residents, but the programs run a year or more. As of yet I do not have an legal authorization to work overseas. But I am getting a passport in July and plan on applying to some of these programs in hope that I will be an amazing candidate.

This too is a tentative plan. I have not covered the realistic aspects of this idea, which I often encounter later in the process. But it is something that I want to do. It's an alternative to going to grad school which I just cannot afford. It is a radical, drastic risk I am willing to try in order for things to be different. In order for there to be a change in my life.

Because right now I feel like that center piece from which everything is rotating and evolving. I am just observing it with my big old doe eyes hoping that I too will be apart of the process. Eventually.

Breakups and Shakeups

Hear that sound? That's the sound of the final nail being hammered into the coffin known as McAbs.

I don't know how to explain it. I still, sometimes, get this feeling in the pit of my stomach when he's around. He's attractive yes. His muscles are firm yes. And I'm a girl who happens to take notice of these attributes on him.

But when I think really hard on our relationship, it's very surface level. In fact we don't really have much to talk about at all. While Josh, Matti, and some of the other guys are easy to talk to, my conversations with McAbs are so forced it hurts. Because I don't know what to talk to him about he thinks I'm boring. And because he only wants to be overly flirtatious, I find him inappropriate.

Our conversations begin and end with him touching my shoulder or the small of my back and then me....whacking him in response to the invasion. Today, I was zoning the romance aisle and he came over to ask what was up. I explained what I was doing and then talked about my excitement over being able to take some of the returns home to read (hey, it's free romance. sue me).

Instead of engaging in conversation he placed his hand on my shoulder. and then squeezed it, in a massage sort of way. So I shrugged him off and then...well, whacked him in the stomach. It's my only response to him. It's like when I fly is in your face, and you swing in response to how frustrating and exasperating it is. Sometimes I want to say 'really. must you really place your hands on my shoulder or back'. He got really angry after i hit him and pulled away yelling "your so weird!" he then walked away from me and added "like really weird".

I don't know why this hurt my feelings. The way he said it, and the way he bounded up the stairs afterward bothered me. He said it like a jock who has just been caught by his friends talking to the unattractive girl from science class. As if, hurling the classic 'you're weird' insult would establish himself separate from the odd girl. Except we were the only ones present.

I immediately checked out after this exchange. I kept mulling over the word 'weird' and defining it in relation to me. So I don't like to be touched by a guy who has a girlfriend, so I playfully smack and shove dudes that I know. But where does the weird come in? It doesn't help that our 'whatever you call it' has been strained these last months. And that we are hanging on to a thread here even in the associates department.

But after years of being deemed weird, I don't need him (of all people) to affirm any of my fears. Someone who I am not all the comfortable around anyway. I have moved on from McAbs. In the crush department, in the friend department, and even the associates department. Nail in Coffin. Done Deal.

I feel so done with my time at the bookstore. I feel so done with the state of my life these days. I am so done with people's assumption of me and of my own fears of stagnation. I didn't make it to that party last night ( I heard it was a bore). But to everyone who did go it didn't matter that I didn't want to hang out because of my 12-8 shift the next morning. It was just another case of me bailing on them. When Matti came in I asked him if he was mad at me for not going. He said that he wasn't mad, but that he doesn't understand why I don't want to hang out. He knows about my anxiety, and said that he gets anxious too but that he pushes past it. But for me it's not that easy.

But then while joking around at customer service I said 'you know. one day i am going to do something extraordinary', and he laughed, not cruelly I know, and said 'we will all be waiting for that day'. When I asked him what he meant by that he referred to me leading a 'uneventful life'. I mean he's been to Paris and London. He flies to California every month or so to visit friends. This week him and Josh are going on a road trip to a music festival in Tennessee.

I can't even attend a party after work.

I on the other hand saw some dinosaurs a few weeks ago and bought two slices of pizza today which I ate while watching the MTV movie awards. THIS comment made me think of the time my mom said I don't make any waves. That I am just a bystander. I hate feeling like a bystander.

So in one night I have been deemed uneventful and weird.

Damn my life.

But (don't tell anyone)...I am going to be extraordinary one day. I don't care what anyone says.

Summer in the City

It has occurred to me that outside of the one week I plan to go home in July, this will be my first real summer in the city. Or in the vicinity of the city.

When I moved here almost two years ago the summer was pretty much over. And last summer I headed home pre-maturely and spent my days in my room reading books. But with my own place and subsequent free time, I realized that this is my first real summer here. I haven't spent a summer in new york since I was a kid and despite my issues with heat, I am an excited 24 year old with a big city right around the corner. Perhaps I will make this a summer to explore.

I am stressed out. I don't need to read (or re-read) old entries to tell that I am wearing thin. I can feel the stress in my body. I am all sorts of tense and out of whack these days because I am broke, without a job job and feelings of inadequacy and failure creeping into my thoughts often.

I don't have anyone to talk to about these concerns. Ever since the 'you're degree means nothing' discussion with Marie I call her on a 'I'm just calling to let you know I haven't died' basis. Which is around every 2 weeks or so. My mom is a patient mother. But as neurotic as I am, I don't need my mother to worry more than she does now. And it doesn't help that I also feel guilty because financially she is helping me out here.

But I am trying. I am leading my life the best way I can, given the circumstances. And I hate feeling stressed all the time. When I'm not thinking about jobs, I'm thinking about loans. When I'm not thinking about loans I'm thinking about jobs. This doesn't leave much time for anything else. And I fear soon I will be carted off in a straight jacket.

In trying to stay as optimistic as I can, I remembered all the cool things I could do this summer, outside of worrying about...life. I mean I still have rent to pay, and a job to secure but I don't want to waste my whole summer worrying about it. It seems like only yesterday I was walking around the Museum awe-struck and in one of the best moods I've been in for a very long time. And even if I can't do something every week, I would love (love) to continue planning adventures for myself this summer, in a pretty amazing city while I can.

So here are my tentative plans:

Sandwiches Anyone?:

There was an amazing article in the New York magazine about sandwich shops in New York. This city is filled with places serving up some mighty fine (and meaty) sandwiches. After every excursion (thanks to my job as a gofer with Lenny) I would grab a sandwich to appease my stomach. I could eat them every day if I had to. I love mayo, I love turkey and fresh lettuce will be the death of me. Luckily, I live in a city known for it's sandwich's and pizza. So when I stumbled across New York magazines list of 40 or so amazing sandwich shops and specials from Queens to Soho, I was floored and hungry. So, I won't be able to go to each and every one but as a lover of food and a fan of writing about senses, in this case the amazing one of taste, why not plan a trip around the city eating some pretty good food while documenting the awesomeness of it. I have to plan my day around the spots and sandwiches I am willing to try (anything featuring fish is out. I hate fish) but it will be a fun and interesting summer excursion.

High Fidelity:

Ever since I briefly saw John Cusack as a late 20's- early 30's audiophile in High Fidelty, I have been obsessed with dingy record stores. Or better yet, cute boys who work in record stores who know more about music than dare I say...moi. My musical knowledge is still developing. I have matured since the years of The Backstreet Boys and Christina Aguliera. But for every Smashing Pumpkin there is a Jennifer Love Hewitt album somewhere in my closet. And it just ain't cool folks. I'm getting better though. I like what I like, but continue to want new music to fill my ears. And since discovering the awesomeness of record players when I was 18, listening to Lp's has become a listening experience that trumps all else. Unfortunately I have been unable to find any dingy record stores here, where the guys ramble about musicians I never heard of and the Lp's are dirty and awesome. If I could manage to find one (or two or three) of these places this summer to buy music and maybe meet a cute record store boy...well then there you have it.

Monet? Oh, you meant Manet. My Bad:

French Impressionist? Modernist? And those damn Renaissance artists. Yeah, yeah. No big surprise here. I do want to mix up going to the huge spots (the Met, Moma) with some smaller galleries. I love art, not to the point where I am a snob, but to a point where spending a few hours staring at a painting, photo or sculpture is my idea of a good time.

Hidden Places:

Give me a vintage store with an old school goonies t-shirt or a thrift store with cool trinkets you cant' buy at target and i'll be in heaven. I kind of just want to get lost in NYC, and somewhere along the way find myself. If that makes sense at all. There are some wicked awesome parks I have never been too, and places that I just want to stumble across because of fate. Be ot reading the C train downtown or catching the 1 uptown. I just want to travel and explore all the hidden crevices of this place.

I have the whole summer to myself. And at least a couple of days to spare. For the most part I will explore by myself but a friend from work says she wants to try the sandwich thing with me. We'll see. Tentative plans. I do hope to put these in motion. I do.

Pending...

I planned on writing a post earlier today but this morning was one of errands. This is my first day off since last Thursday, and this day of rest has been a much needed one.

People are really frustrating me these days (mainly customers) and I feel like I am losing a sense of my identity at the store. Small things are beginning to bother me and wear on my face. Yesterday was horrible and I wrote (and then promptly took down) an angry post about it. Creepy guy came back and was...well extra creepy and I fear that I will (am) have to notify managers about him.

He painfully (intimately) brushed his hand against mine yesterday while handing me his money and then loomed over me to ask me my name. Luckily I was wearing a name tag that read 'Peggy Sue' (don't ask) and it seemed appropriate enough seeing that I don't want to hear my name come out of his mouth. Ever.

From him to my co-workers and general anxiety, I am full of quiet rage. A rage that makes me want to damage something. And I haven't had that feeling since High school. It's a feeling that I am not comfortable with. But I am beginning to feel swallowed whole by strangers. I am beginning to feel their impressions of me, causing indents to the person I really am, and it is causing a crack within my Psyche.

I am uncomfortable with people addressing me as if they know me. As if my name tag dictates familiarity. I am uncomfortable being on display. I am uncomfortable in my skin, and I don't need people trying to peer inside of who I am through the cracks. I feel vulnerable and exposed by people, and it's been nice to have a day all to myself. Where I don't have to worry about anything or anyone except...me.

I went to the library, checked out a good selection of books and then bought a dress at the mall. I never wear dresses, but it's too hot for anything else today and this one is super girly. It's so girl I may have to buy sandals to go with it. The dress makes me want to go to another museum and snap pictures of something or hang out in central park all day.

Though I am not a fan of the heat, I am looking forward to my first real summer in New York. There are some parks that I want to see, and museums I want to visit. I expect to buy some more dresses (or skirts) for these adventures and this summer will be a picture snapping one. Because I'd like to not sweat while walking around the city I am actually buying summer clothes, and for a girl who likes cardigans this is a step in the right direction.

Today has been a quiet, soft one. I cleaned, did laundry,listened to music and danced. It's suppose to rain later on and for some reason it smells as if it already did. A post is still pending after a few more hours of lounging, dancing and clearing my mind.

Damn today was a good day.

Intimate Transaction?

I've been invited to another job related party this weekend. My stomach is queasy.



Josh came up to me that other night and said "so, my parents are going away for a week and I'm having a house party. You should come even though I know that you won't but I wanted to ask anyway". It was a sincere attempt to invite me to one of his parties for the nth time this year.



I go back and forth between going and not going. All of my reasons for attending involve being able to relax with my co-workers outside of work. When we aren't complaining about work, we generally like each other. The store manager once told me that our store was not like others, because the employee dynamic is different. It's friendlier. And though I hate my retail job with a passion, I must admit we have an awesome crew. The store has an intimate feeling despite the size of it, and I can name on one hand the people I don't like working with (New Manager. You suck!)



But, I am still sort of antsy. People exhaust the hell out of me, despite how social I appear to be, and parties are a hub of anxiety for me. A hub, even though I like Josh and everyone I work with. We are a bunch of nerds who work in retail who admit our nerd like tendencies, whenever possible.

I mean when we closed the store last night Graphic Novel Artist, Josh and I spent the hour geeking out about movies and books. Graphic Novel guy is amazing. He is crush worthy in every way possible except that he has a wife that he loves and respects. For that reason I can't help but love and respect him.

We get along so well it's scary and we are trying to figure out if we are related in some way. But we have yet to discover any lost connection. Anyway, he told me that he was going to Josh's party just to get out of the house and if I was going. Well, what he actually said was "you seen like a social person. So you're going right?"

Me? Social? Really? I think I'm selectively social. There are some people (him, Angie, Cello Girl) who I connect with instantly. I never second guessed hanging out with them. Our friendships were organic and just felt right. But for the other 95% of the people I interact with it is work, hard work which involves me trying to work my way around my destructive internal dialogue.

I am able, and sometimes willing, to give a good chunk of myself to people that I trust. I open up and I guess I am a social and lively person but doing that is exhausting because people are needy. Not maliciously of course, but just out of habit or worse, human nature.

I mean the other day McAbs ( I know, it's been a while since I mentioned that name) was in a terrible mood. He was stoic and look detached. Months ago I would have sincerely cared, but because I have a million and one things going on in my head I just wasn't in the mood to ask him how he was feeling in regards to my own state. After a couple of hours though, I went over to him and asked if he was all right just out of curiosity.

But he replied curtly "why does it matter? You couldn't fix it anyway". I paused for a moment, and thought of all the things I could say back (some nasty, some sad)but he had a point. I really didn't care what was bothering him, and I couldn't fix it even if I wanted to.

The times that I have asked him what's wrong, he (along with a number of other people) unloads his whole life story on me, as if I am a journal. As if I've secretly said "tell me everything, I can help you". And though I generally care about people, some times to the point where I sacrifice elements of myself, adapting to their personal needs for understanding, love, acceptance, fulfillment often clashes with my own attempt to embrace my own understanding of those thing.

I've discovered that my needs are simple and pure. My definitions of love, acceptance and fulfillment are unique to who I am and when those ideals intersect and corresponds with people, my connections with them are amazing and easy.

When they don't I am a depleted exhausted mess. This makes working in customer service difficult because people associate my kindness for general interest. Yesterday some customer was appalled (appalled) that I didn't tell him to have a good day after a transaction. I was distracted by Graphic Novel guy who came to retrieve something from the cash register. We immediately engaged in small talk in the 1.5 minute it took me to ring the customer up. The customer is a Regular who comes in every day, spends a good 4 hours in the store and then buys something small like a bookmark. He's ultra weird, wears socks with sandals and bothers us relentlessly.

He sort of lingered around after I gave him his change, but by then I was ringing someone else up and telling Graphic Novel Guy that I would visit him in the music department when I got a chance. A few minutes later when the line had died down, the Regular approached the counter again. He tells me, quietly, that it would make him feel better (yes, better) if I thanked him for his visit to our store because he never got a 'thank you' or 'have a nice day' after I gave him his change. No lie.

Outside of this guy being weird, I was sort of offended that he took offense to my...inconsideration. I know that cashier etiquette calls for feigning interest in people (and in the last 24 hours when I've explained this interaction I am told that I was in the wrong) to complete their experience at the store, but some days fake sincerity is worse than death. Especially to people I don't know, and who don't know me outside of the girl with the name tag.

Like a prostitute I incredulously thanked him for his business (because who the hell comes back) to which he replied 'thank you. I just wanted a more intimate transaction and you were distracted last time".

Intimate Transaction? Is that the bane of our existence, to achieve intimate transactions with people. Maybe it is, but excuse me for being selective towards those I wanted to intimately transact with and those that I don't want to.

The point is, because there is one somewhere, is that a source of my anxiety revolves around this belief that I can not adequately measure up to people's expectations or needs. I mean hell, customers are just customers and despite what he said or what anyone of them say, I am never inclined to be someone else in lieu of good customer service. And maybe I was a little dismissive, as a person he doesn't know all too well I don't see the point (anymore) of acting like intimate friend. I'm sorry but I ain't doing it.

But where I do struggle is in my attempts to balance getting to connecting to those who want to be my friend and vice versa. Who want me to be slightly available in order to connect and be social with.

So I might go. I want to want to go because these are people that I like and I hate turning down their invites so that I can stay home and watch various marathons on TV. But going involves silencing the insane and irrational thoughts I have pertaining my presence there. Where I struggle to understand fully the extent of my needs and others for fulfilling and sincere intimate transactions?

Ugh, that's just a weird ugly phrase, no matter how sweet I try to make it sound.

When it Rains, It Pours....

The clouds are constipated. It wants to rain so bad, I can tell but alas there is nothing.



It's been too hot these last few days. I can't even really say it's the heat because it's the humidity that is killing it for me. I went to bed last night a hot mess, only to wake up a hot and sweaty mess. Let's just say I am counting down the days until Fall.



The weatherman is reporting a thunderstorm later on tonight, and if the clouds are any indication of the next few hours, then he is spot on. But I still don't see any raindrops, and it is still humid as hell and despite having a day off I spent much of it patiently awaiting this thunderstorm.



The rain helps me think. I find grey clouds comforting. And though thunderstorms include the ever crashing sound of thunder, there is a silence in it that I cannot express. And I am hoping that this thunderstorm will bring with it a cold front, because man my body cannot take it. To curb the heat issue I have been taking epic naps in order to relieve some of the tension in my body. Yeah, the naps mess with my sleep later on in the evening but naps are a luxury I cannot give up.



I find myself dreaming about college a lot. They aren't those "could have, should have, would have ones' like I had...well in college. I have these literal dreams of my time there, specifically of the various English classes I took during my four year stint. Today I dreamed of the European Lit class I took my junior year, with the NotSoHawt but relatively nice Professor. I didn't say too much in his class, but he took notice of me because I would write him emails concerning his lectures. He read one of my emails out to the class and begged me to speak more during class time instead of using an email format.



Anyway, right before my birthday he told me (or more appropriately wrote on an email I had sent him) that I " have a real future in this field: You ask great and imaginative questions". I don't know why this moment (and comment) has been so pivotal to me. Or why I dreamt about it this afternoon. But I was in that room during my nap taking a test I thought I was going to fail, feeling insignificant and small until he called my name and in a way said I was special and important.


There are days when I miss feeling like a person with potential. I mean I know I possess it, but I miss the reinforcement. I miss having someone ( a teacher, a therapist, a friend) to remind me of it. It's the main thing I miss about being in school, that I had this support system of people not only telling me that I was okay but reminding me that I have potential, that I am special.

When I was in grade school I use to have this fantasy that involved me sitting in a full classroom of my peers and having some hot stranger come to the door and ask to see me. I use to see this happen all the time. We'd be in the middle of another Christopher Columbus lecture and there would be a knock at the door. The teacher would look pissed because of the interruption but we were all excited to see who it could be. And then like some vision, some fairly attractive man or woman was there, asking if they could speak with so and so for a moment. So and So would get up from his or her desk and exit from the room like we were filming a scene from a movie where the protagonist is rescued or taken away.

And I always hated that no one ever came to my class to interrupt the teacher to ask for me. I always wanted to be the So and So to get up from my seat, surprised as my classmates were, that I of all people was important enough to warrant a visitor. I dreamt of this fantasy in middle school then high school all the way to college to now. I mean even now when I'm at the bookstore I catch myself wanting to be acknowledge in that same way. For someone to pop up and ask for my name (in a non creepy and annoying customer way) because of my importance and significance to them. Because I am special and unique and full of potential.

Wishful thinking I guess, after all these years. I have work 9-5 tomorrow and i am not feeling getting up to go to work. They are now in the process of hiring some more people to work at the store and I am apprehensive and nervous. New people, new dynamic another indication that I have been there forever.

My drive to write has been an up and down thing. I go from sheer excitement to 'whatever' most days and can't get outside of my head long enough to put anything of significance on paper. It's frustrating and exhausting and I've never felt more like an crazy writer than now. Since the BBC thing I have taken a mental and emotionally break. I haven't wanted to do anything serious, including writing, just for a week. I've just wanted to spend my days waiting for this damn thunderstorm to come and have dreams of once being a person with potential.

I Didn't Mean to Hurt You

I've been taking the BBC America thing well.



Ok. I'm lying. Almost a week later, it still fucking sucks that I didn't get the job. I am watching Dr. Who On Demand right now as I type, and I cannot help feeling extremely pissed that I am not preparing for my first real world job after my first real world job interview.



I don't believe the interview was horrible. I was sort of prepared, kind of charming and I wore a really cute and professional outfit. I could have related my skills more to the position itself rather than making generalities about my awesomeness. You live and you learn.



The fact that I got an interview at all at BBC America for a position I didn't know even know existed, gives me some hope though. Whose to say that if the BBC didn't find my resume a good enough for their company that other networks won't. I mean other networks will not be BBC America of course but all I have these days is optimism and a growing obsession with Matt Smith and the UK.

Since then I have been managing. I still have to get up in the morning and continue with my life, despite how sucky it has been this month. Especially regarding work.



When I say I am dissatisfied with my job at the bookstore, I mean it with every fiber of my body. Even my favorite manager along with my co-workers are experiencing their own 'I hate my life' mood. The honeymoon period is officially over. We are no longer head over heels in love with working together at the store. We don't despise each other by any means. But you know when you've been around someone for too long in the close confines of say a house or a bookstore that the things you love about them can become...annoying, just because. Well that's what happening at the store.

Case in point, I closed last night and it was brutal. No one said much of anything all night and you could sense that we all had things on our minds that had nothing to do with work. There was a weird stillness in the air and despite trying to be an upbeat person I wasn't even in the mood to brighten the day. I too was consumed with my own thoughts and couldn't find the drive to muster happiness for someone else. When we finally closed we collectively ignored each other, cleaned up the store and then parted ways. It was the most bizarre closing ever.

And for some reason it's as if the customers know we all hate our jobs because they have been pulling out the extra crazy lately, as if our internal distressed monologues aren't enough for us to handle. Today the insane Ann Coulter-isque lady decided to grace us with her Obama bashing sentiments. She is a regular at the store. A regular pain-in-the ass woman who only comes in to ask for really right winged books and then rant about America turning into a communist nation. I helped her once, and she got mad at me because a book she wanted wasn't in stock. She accused me, yes I, of being apart of a liberal agenda to rid the store of Conservative books. I immediately got a manager and went on my way.

Today she tried that crap with Virginia, a really elegant retired teacher who works there part time. Virginia wasn't having it and the two started screaming at each other in the store. I watched from afar, afraid/confused/intrigued as Virginia called the lady crazy and the lady shoved a Conservative book at her. When it almost came to blows (I said Virginia was elegant, I might have forgotten feisty and yes, they were pretty close to hair pulling) I called a manager. It was too much for me to watch.

I on the other hand had to deal with the survivalist guy (who thinks we should start preparing for a return to hunter-gathering time) who came in the other day and wanted to talk about this girl who broke his heart. This guy is harmless, he is literally just looking for someone to talk to. And apparently that person is me. For the past year he has come to me to talk about this girl he dated who messed him up....for life. To make a long story short: They work together, they started dating, he payed all her bills, she used him, they broke up, now she is dating another co-worker.

He thinks that she may have a psychological disorder, and every other week he is buying psychology books trying to understand how she could do harm him emotionally. During one of these 'sessions' where he asked for me specifically to help him I mentioned that I suffered from anxiety. I don't know why I did this. He kept talking about disorders as if they made people bad and all I could think was 'hey I have anxiety and I'm not a bad person'. Or maybe I thought telling him would let him know that people are perfect. So yeah, I have a smile on my face at work but it doesn't mean that things are eating me up inside. That I am 100% ok. I just needed him to know that for some reason, so he wouldn't get attached to me as the 'really sweet innocent no problem girl at the bookstore'.

But yesterday, while I was at the cash register covering someones break he stopped in to say hey. He immediately started talking about the girl who broke his heart again and I daydreamed about being taken away by Matt Smith. Then he said "i still can't believe you have anxiety. you hide it well. can you explain what it feels like'. I just sort of shrugged my shoulders and was like 'it's sort of personal i guess"

But he went on to relate my social anxiety to his crazy ex-girlfriends inability to accept love from him. And in a way attempting to tell me that my anxiety can hurt other people. That it can isolate me from those who just want to...I don't know, love me? It was freaking bizarre. One, because this guy himself is suffering some issue that only Freud can deal with but 2), but because I never associated my anxiety as a danger to other people . And even though he is a loony bird it got me thinking, has my anxiety hurt other people?

I mean not in a malicious way. Anxiety is not a deadly rambo-isque friend who I introduce when times get rough, but I couldn't help but think of the people I have isolated because of it. People I've cared/care about who inadvertently have had to deal with my anxiety as much as me. And though the guy who made that point is CRAZY, it was a valid general point. A point I am still struggling to understand and must write about tomorrow. But I didn't need some stranger making that claim. Not at all.

Anyway

I have to get out of the bookstore, I have to get out of this life and I know it must be incredibly boring to read me writing this over and over again, but it even worse having to live it. I've applied to some more jobs and am crossing my fingers that I hear something back. I can only do 3 more months of this before I completely have a breakdown of sorts. I am running out of things to try, and my spirit is faltering. A little.

Tomorrow I have a day off (thank god) and I plan on doing something semi-relaxing. That's the plan at least.

Why Do I Even Get Up in the Morning

Dear Beckett,

After carefully reviewing the qualifications and background of the candidate pool, we find that we are unable to offer you a position at this time.

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider you for a position with BBC Worldwide Americas. We wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of employment opportunities.

Regards,

BBC Worldwide Americas

Trimming the Fat.

Unlike 2 weeks where I magically had both Saturday and Sunday off, this weekend I spent the better part of my day at the bookstore. Two 10-6 days. It was brutal.

On any other day I would not complain about a 10-6 work day. Let me correct that. I would not complain as much about said 10-6 workday. But where we once had enough employees to cover the basic functioning needs of the store, we are now a slim crew.

A few people graduated this year and moved back home, some quit and got 'better' jobs, some left because the New Manager is an uber bitch and could drive the devil out of hell if you gave her enough time. And well...some got fired.

A week ago the Awesome Manager came up to me and asked me if I was friends with 'Jessica'. She is the youngest person working their (19) and for the most part I like her. I mean, we never hung out outside of work but we spent several hours on the floor NOT helping customers. Anyway, when I said yes, that I was kind of friends with her he said "oh. well if I tell you something about her you have to promise that you won't tell anyone else. PROMISE'.

This was not an unusual request, this manager has a tendency of telling me things. He is by far every one's favorite because he knows we are all pretty young and do the best that we can at our crap job. He's gotten in trouble with the other managers because they think he treats us more like friends than employees. So when he came up to me, I knew he wanted to tell me some top secret thing that could only be between us (and my journal).

Apparently a week earlier, while another manager was on duty, she got a call from a very popular shopping store located in our building, that an employee from the bookstore was caught shoplifting some cd's. Because most of us shop at the store during our break their staff are familiar with our faces. Hence why they were shocked when she strolled in (on her day off) to shoplift. They wanted a manager to come downstairs and identify the suspected shoplifter on the surveillance tape. That employee turned out to be Jessica, and for that reason the managers had no other choice but to fire her.

I haven't told anyone about what Awesome Manager told me but with one less employee at the store I can't help but notice how small our crew has become. We literally have enough people to cover the cash register and customer service. Everyone looks worn out and over worked at the bookstore and you can feel a change in the air. Soon enough a new crop of people will be hired to make up for the huge dent in our staff. New people bring a new dynamic while diminishing the atmosphere that we've created.

But for some reason this does not worry me. Not like it would have in the past.

I honestly, in my heart, know that this is the time for me to move on from the bookstore. It's as if some window has opened and I want to explore it without even looking back. I hope to hear something about another interview with my current dream network in the next day or two. This whole weekend I have been going over what I said, what I wish I would have said, and other very neurotic things in regards to Thursday. And all I can come back to in my mind is that this is a job I can do because I want to do it. Point Blank.

I am not a huge fan of change. I wish I could have talked about this more in therapy but Anxiety fueled much of my discussions then. Unless I am the one initiating it (change), I am perfectly okay with things remaining the same. I think it has to do with the sense that I never had a homestead. My family always moved just at the point where we were establishing sincere friendships and connections. Because of this I am accustomed to bailing on things (people) when it gets to close.

But what I've failed to realize is that I am changing every day. My wants and needs are so far from what they were two years ago. Where working at the bookstore was an adequate use of my time to pay off loans and get out of the house, it doesn't quite cut it anymore. I confessed to my mom that I sometimes feel bad when I apply to other jobs. And that when I went on the interview I felt like I was cheating on the bookstore. It's ridiculous I know, but that's what I felt. But why should I feel bad for wanting to do something extraordinary. For wanting (needing)to step outside of my comfort level and see what I can accomplish if I just...do it.

I don't know what is going to happen in the next few days. The perfect scenario would involve a second interview and subsequent job offer. I will only think of that scenario. I can only think of that one. But whatever happens, there is a window open. I can feel the breeze from outside luring me to step through the pane. And I will, because I can and I'm ready.

Big Girl Worries

On Tuesday I got wind of a very exciting, important, life changing opportunity that falls into the 'job' category of life these days.

Yeah. I wrote it. I was contacted about a potential job at an amazing network. But that's all I'm going to say about it because I don't want to mess this up. I applied some two weeks ago, after researching some things and I spent that weekend debating whether I would be fit for the position. The position has nothing to do with production or writing but I felt it was closer to my dream job than being at the bookstore.

So needless to say I was shocked to open my email two days ago asking for an interview! Less than 48 hours later, I sat in the lobby of said network, eyeing memorabilia and wondering how the hell I got to this point. The email was very short and direct. I would partake in a 15-20 minute interview with a Hiring Manager to see if I was a good enough applicant for a more thorough interview in the future.

I didn't have too long to prepare for this thing. I bought a blouse and a spiffy new beige jacket and a professional looking portfolio to hold my resume in. With only 20 minutes to meet with someone I knew the questions would be more universal "how do you qualify for this job" "tell me about yourself" sort of things but I still wanted to be prepared. I spent all of Wednesday reading interview books at the bookstore and trying to casually rehearse things in my head.

I got to the interview 20 minutes early and was calm and relaxed. I did what I could in the 20 minutes with the Hiring Manager. She asked about my college degree and my internships. I asked about the work environment there and what role the position would play in the company. It was a pleasant and formal meeting. I was enthusiast but not eager and she said I would hear back from her when she made a decision on who would, in all honesty, get to round 2.

I haven't slept that well the last couple of days. This is only the 2nd interview that I've had for a actually job, the first being the editorial assistant gig in bridgeport. One year ago, I was at this same point where a potential job was looking me in the face and all I have to do is...sell myself.

But unlike last year, I am not heading home in a few weeks because my aunt is passively kicking me out of her house. I, for the most part, am here to stay as long as I am able to afford this life here. And unlike last year where I applied to that position just for the hell of it, I actively sought this one out because my skills matched up and I fucking love this network. I had to control my urge to geek out when the elevator doors opened an there was this huge poster of....well, one of my favorite shows EVER (that is not buffy I mean)!

And I'm nervous. And scared. And am sooooo sick of working at the bookstore. And I want this. Badly. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this bad in my whole entire life. And all I can think about is getting that second interview. At being able to come up with answers to the questions that they throw at me so I can blow them away. I know if given the chance I can, but did I convince her of that in the 15 minutes I had. I don't know.

This could change so many things in my life. I will still be stressed out, and slightly lonely, and struggling with anxiety and writing. But I would have a secure, decent paying job at [insert awesome network]. After graduating school two years ago (damn) to move here I would have a full time gig.

It would be...lovely. But I am stressed about it. About the 'what if's'. There are 15 candidates for this job. If I get to round 2, I will have that extra something to get the job. IF i get to round 2. I don't know when I am going to hear about that. She said maybe today, but I have yet to see any thing in my inbox. I've been checking all day.

I just want this. More than my little heart can explain. And I don't want to keep wishing for good things to start coming my way, I want them to start occurring because I am more than ready (and qualified) for it. So yeah, my palms are sweating and my hearts racing and I am trying to stay positive but worried is more like it....

Keeping Mum

Something important has popped up. Something very important and very exciting that I want to scream to the whole entire world!



But I come from a very superstitious family. Seriously. From the time I was 6, I learned that stepping on cracks would injure my mother's back, and some much salt was thrown over shoulders we could have seasoned chicken with it.



One of my families favorite one is:'keep good new to yourself, until you are positive it is good news'. So yeah. Um. yeah, I don't want to say too much to threaten the awesomeness of this potential opportunity.



I got news of this yesterday, after a lackluster day of laying around and waiting for it to get dark outside. I checked my email after a nap and....big big news!

I called my mom, who then screamed on the phone and then warned me not to tell anyone about it. Not Marie, not my co-workers, no one. To her, once you let something like this slip out you taint the news because you've put it in someone else's hand. I told you, it's those Carolina superstitions that are born in our genes.


Tomorrow could be the beginning of a very important chain of events that could be the beginning of a new venture here. I'm excited, and nervous and feel really unprepared. I'm happy, and worried, and restless.

So fingers crossed for my very exciting yet all to secret thing tomorrow.

Disappearing Act

A mere four days after being shoved by a crazy drunk lady I was called an asshole today by a customer. On mother's day. As if, you know, my mom wouldn't be offended that someone called her kid an asshole.

To all those recent college graduates who will soon find themselves out of school with enough book knowledge to.... well write a book, but too little work experience to, I don't know, get a job, working in retail will suck. It will suck hardcore. There will be days when you will not have a name. Because people with names deserve a little bit of dignity and respect, and lets just say you can throw that concept outside the window once you get behind a register or a counter.

You will not only NOT have a name, but you will not have a past, present or future. It will not matter to customers that you graduated from college. That you once rescued children from a burning building or that you donated to UNICEF. In retail you are a face without a name. You are just a face, and a body, and worse a thing. A thing which people can project their anger, happiness, and frustrations on. You've been warned graduates. Don't say I didn't give you the heads up.

As soon as I got into work, 12-8, a co-worker warned me that customers were in a weird mood. She said it like that weird old guy in horror movies who warns you about the creepy legend surrounding the camp, haunted house, or woods that you know you are going to enter. In fact, I hate when people warn you about things at all, because then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. She said it was going to be a bad day, so that means it is going to be a bad day.

For the most part people were just frustrated about books that they wanted to buy but that we didn't have in the store. Of course they were shopping last minute for a mother's day gift which made it all the worse. I will never understand people who wait to the day of to buy gifts. It's not like we haven't been bombarded with mother's day reminders since April. So the store was packed.

Where the customers decided to get nasty were in their dissatisfaction with our ability to produce the service they wanted, just as they wanted it, when the wanted. Josh got yelled at by a guy who was unhappy that we didn't have a Obama bashing book in the store. He accused Josh and the store of being left winged and against conservatism. Another co-worker was told that she had wasted their (customers) time because she drove all the way down to the store to pick up a book she wasn't even sure we had (we didn't). Douches and Douchettes were swinging at us left and right and by the end of the day I was so over being a face without a name.

I only had two encounters with bad customers, but they were epic:

The first guy called the store because he bought an audio book that had a sticker on it for 20%. However it didn't ring up for 20% on his receipt and he wanted to know why he didn't get the discount. So I typed up the product number and go figure the item wasn't promo'd for anything. I told him that most likely it was once a promo but someone forgot to de-sticker it. He then got all irate. But it was stickered 20%, how could something accidentally be stickered 20%, it was on a table that had a bunch of other things stickered 20%.

Once again I explained the situation and that because it was our error he could return the item for the accidentally promo'd item. He then told me that I didn't sound like a manager and that I should be very careful telling him that he could get his 20% back if he couldn't and that he wanted to let all the stickering people that they made a huge error.

Having worked there for some time I know that anything stickered incorrectly has to be sold for the percentage marked off (we don't tell customers this until the moment they are yelling at us). I know this because I have had to do it several times, with a managers permission. And to me, if someone is telling you the price can be adjusted because of store error, I wouldn't question said person and threaten to call the stickering people police (he. said. this.). We went over this "but it says 20%", "I know, so you can return it and get the price adjusted but that's all I can do for you over the phone" before he said he was getting a little aggravated with me. We both hung up confused and dissatisfied (and the funniest thing. The book in question was called: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff).

The last lady (a mother no less) takes the cake though. I was at the cash register the last hour of my shift. For the most part it was uneventful, until the last five minutes. Josh and I were talking for a moment about hipsters and how awful they are when I heard someone do a 'hey you, come here now" whistle. I turn and it is this lady with her two kids waiting at the register. Josh splits and I start walking towards her. Automatically I know that she is at the wrong register (one down from mine) so I tell her as I pass her to sign in on mine that I am not at the register she is at. She doesn't hear me, because she is too busy preparing to get pissed.

She already had her books on the wrong counter, so I wait until she realizes that she is not at the right register. By then, she is livid. She pokes her head around to my register and mumbles 'you are so rude'. Maybe because I didn't grab the books off the register for her, maybe because I didn't do whistle at her like a dog to come hither. She slams her book at the right counter and gives me that stank eye.

When I ask her a question she answers in the affirmative and then whispers that I need to be written up by a manager because of how rude I am. ??? I ignore her and start ringing her up. She is seething, for reasons I am still not sure about and when the transaction is done she barely lets me get the books in the bag before she yanks it out of my hand. Remind you, her kids are still there, right beside her. As she walks away and mumbles "asshole!" and leaves the store.

By then someone was up there with me to cover the cash register and witnessed the angry lady and her attitude. She asked me 'what the hell was wrong with that lady' and all I could say was 'apparently i'm an asshole'. To be honest the whole exchange was absurd. There are a lot of things that I may be but asshole is not one of them. Not even close. But then I had to remember that to her I am not someones daughter, or a college graduate, or an okay writer with a blog. I am a nameless face, who is an asshole because she has deemed me one.

To say today was awful would be an understatement. It's bad enough that people deplete my energy but mean people destroy me. They chip at my particles and cause my whole to feel unsteady. Everyday I literally have to remind myself that I am a person. everyday. Some days are harder than others and I can feel myself start to disappear. Like one by one my limbs are fading away, erasing all traits of the person that I once was. It's a painful, brutal feeling. And after today, I feel less like a person than I have in a very long time. And not because some lady called me an asshole or that some guy on the phone was being a jerk but because being a nameless face I couldn't refute their assumptions about me.

I could only, smile sadly and say 'have a nice day', only to feel like crap now because I've disappeared completely into myself again.