Exhausted.

Thanksgiving week was amazing. My mom made so much food this year that I was sent back to new york with leftovers. A lot of leftovers.

The train ride going to South Carolina was smooth sailings. I sat next to a lady who talked for a while, but other than that the ride was a breeze.

Coming back was a whole different story. There was a crying baby in front of me, I sat next to a guy who hummed, farted and snored the whole way, and the traffic in New York was crazy.

I got home a little over four hours ago but I am wiped out. Luckily I am not on the schedule today so I won't have to encounter retail hell until tomorrow afternoon.

But I think I am going to call it a night. Tomorrow I'll deal with unpacking, work and other such real life responsibilities. Tonight it's all about sleeping.

"Lady You Can Suck It! No, Not You. You!"

My internal dialogues at work worry me.

I feel like any posts about work this year will consist of me complaining about customers (and some employees). Maybe it's just my family, but we were never irritating holiday shoppers. Then again my mom never took my brother and I shopping with her during the holidays but I will bet money on it.

Now I love the holidays like the next person but I am so over the commercialization of it. And what's so weird is I'm not even that person. That person who complains that the celebration of Christmas has lost it's values. I know the holidays are about the gift giving, receiving and spending time with the family. But by in large it's kind of just one big holiday where we convince ourselves that splurging on gifts is okay because of Santa Claus and stuff. I am perfectly okay with this.

But when you work in retail you heart can harden when it comes to the whole holiday spirit thing. I don't know why people think they can act like complete assholes because Xmas is around the corner, but they do. And worse they take it out on the poor people working retail. It's like the law of man or something.

Soon after Halloween the store started to pick up with holiday shoppers. Usually the weekends at Le Sad Store are pretty busy but the last few weeks have been crazy. Today was no different, except that we all (all) had to have a mandatory holiday meeting that lasted from 8am to 10am. Our rather dismal crew converged in the cafe after consuming free doughnuts and fruit to listen to the managers praise, using that term loosely, our hard work and dedication. This was followed by a mandatory store tour where each manager (as we were split up into 5 groups that rotated from different managers in different departments) reiterated store procedures, policies and tips for the next few weeks.

We were all too tired to care really. Some people had to close last night and then show up for work at 8. They were the least functioning of us all this morning. The rest, were just pissed at having to come in that early for a meeting we could have done another day and time. I too was a little annoyed by the two hour mandatory meeting. I could have been on a train right now to South Carolina had the importance of this meeting not been drilled into my head. But I was forced to go, and also change my ticket reservation for tomorrow.

I unfortunately got stuck in a group with this chick named Joanne who wouldn't making suggestions during the 'tour'. Joanne is in her late 60's and started working at Le Sad Store part time on and off for 6 years. Up until 3 months ago she was living in Florida, having relocating there after her mom died. But she didn't like Florida. Not at all. And she doesn't mind telling you why she didn't like Florida if you stick around long enough for her to get a word out. Sometimes I like Joanne. She is completely nuts and sometimes I think she is starting to go senile. But the constant complaints can drive even the most sane person nuts.

During the tour she'd interject, when it was not necessary, to talk about things that have annoyed her since her return to the store. Like 'back when we started here, you couldn't just leave a crooked book laying around. it's not that hard to straighten something if it's off' or 'the people in cafe need to be a bit more tidy up there. I hate having to straighten things out up there because you guys don't".

We already had to sit through a 45 minute presentation from the managers, having to listen to her was all too much for my ears. I wanted to clock her. I might have thought about it several times during the tour. Especially as we were heading to the children's department and she spotted a book on a promo table that wasn't suppose to be here "see this is what I am talking about" she exclaimed, drawing our attention to the book and her frustrated face "we need to get this together people"

Her shift started a couple of hours after the store opened and her nonstop complaints began immediately. It's bad enough having to deal with customers who give you clues to a book that consists of 'it's blue and the word 'I' is in the title' but having to deal with infuriating employees is worse. You can't escape them as easily.

So yes, I may have thought really horrible thoughts today. Many of them about slapping too busy to be bothered with our 'slow' service customers to old employees who are losing their minds but somehow still work at a bookstore to pester a usually patient nice girl whose name starts with a B.

Luckily for the next 5 days I will not have to put up with Le Sad Store. Tomorrow I am heading home and I couldn't be happier. I am almost all packed up for my busy traveling day tomorrow. I always bring to many books home with me but for some reason I feel is it necessary to have a book of every genre to occupy my time on the train . I just finished reading Boys and Girls, Like You and Me, a collection of short stories that were cringe worthy and delightful and am bringing it along for the ride to thumb through again. I also have Kick Me, written by the Freaks and Geeks guy and Sunshine, a vampire novel that apparently lacks romance.

I usually end up bringing too much with me but for a 15 hour train ride you can never really bring too much. I'll have my cool Internet usb modem so that I can go online and watch hulu or netflix when my eyes get too tired from reading. Or possibly post something if the person I sit next to doesn't stare over at my screen. We'll see. I am just glad to have a few days away for awhile.

I look forward to being home with my family again. By day 2 I might think otherwise but for now it brings me comfort.

Seriously?!

In less than 48 Hours I will be on a train to South Carolina. Where the hell is fall going? Where the hell are the days going? How is Thanksgiving only a few days away?



I am excited about going home. Turkey Day is my favorite holiday but damn it all to hell if this year Thanksgiving didn't sneak up on me. I haven't even started packing and after a 8 hour shift I have to go to bed early so that I can wake up tomorrow and attend a very dumb mandatory holiday meeting at Le Sad Store. A Holiday Meeting?



Apparently they hold them every year. The managers will talk about the Holiday Season and procedures. They'll then run through all the promos, changeovers and yadda yadda yadda that are currently or will currently go on this year.



I've managed to miss this dumb meeting in the past but not this year. If we don't go we will get written up and knowing Evil Manager she will not only write you up but make a big deal of it in the future. So I, along with everyone else will be there bright and early tomorrow.



yay!



Afterwards I will have to start and finish packing/cleaning my room. I don't want to have to freak out come Monday morning because I still have a very messy room to clean and clothes to pack before my train leaves.



It's so weird that last year around this time I had just found a place for myself to live because my aunt kicked me out. I'd finished a pretty brutal interships at a publishing house and was embarking on new ventures. When I got back from vacation everything sort of fell into place. New home, new internship (that lasted a day. sorry), and the start of my new life in New York paying rent and trying to figure shit out.

I kind of hope that when I get back the same thing will happen. That the short break from my life here will open some new opportunities when i get back. On the job, boy and general happiness front. The last few weeks (sigh. months) have been hectic and crazy and...unpredictable. But I like living in New York and I think i really want to stay here. I just need things to sort of fall in place for once, so I can make that happen.

Fingers Crossed.

Anyway. Time to pack, clean and then sleep. The next few days are going to be a little busy but i'll try to post when I can.

~Becks

The High Road.

Today is the last day of my weird three day vacation. Due to scheduling conflicts (Evil Manager needs me to start working on Thursdays) I was schedule to work only four days this week. Because I usually have Tuesday and Thursdays off my three days ran back to back this week and it has been pretty great. I needed the rest.

On Monday I had a colossal breakdown. I was watching the trailer for a movie called Rabbit Hole, a film about a young couple dealing with the death of their toddler son, and I lost it. I can't describe it any other way.

I am struck by this grieving process. It just doesn't end. Some days I am totally okay. I can say his name. See his face. And remember the touch of his little baby feet without any problems. And other days, I can't without breaking out into hysterics. That is what happened on Monday. I came across the trailer again (I saw it a while back and made a mental note to watch it when it came out in theaters) but as soon as The High Road by Broken Bell starts playing, I am beside myself with grief.

I cried to the point of wanting to throw up. I cried to the point of yelling into my pillow. And by the time I made it to work, I was exhausted by my grief. I was exhausted, and angry and sad.

The movie is based on a play by the same name, and from thumbing through it at work, the movie follows the script exactly. Becca and Howie are dealing with the accidental death (and subsequent grief) of their four year old son Danny (of all names) very differently. Becca appears cold and indifferent, quickly removing items of Danny's life from their home. Howie is struggling to preserve every memory of Danny, and grieves alone by himself. Together their grief leads them down very different paths, threatening to distill their marriage and life.

It's been two years but the grief over my own Danny's death opens up like a fresh wound so easily, I wonder how me and my family made it through the few days after he died. I don't remember crying (hell, I even made a few posts afterwards). I remember having to make sure my brother was okay and that my mom was okay. I remember being asked to write something nice on his funeral page.

I remember being disconnected, like things were happening around me but not to me. I remember having to be strong because everyone and thing around me was soooo quiet. I mostly remember my mom crying, especially when it came time to delete his photo from the screensaver. It was too hard for her to get on the computer with his face staring back at her. She asked me quietly to do it for her, because she couldn't bring herself to. And with a click, he was gone.

With a click.

And then I was gone. It was a few weeks before graduation and we had to pull it together well enough to get me across the stage and finally to board the train to new york. July 2008 seems like a huge blur, re-reading the posts from them is so weird. I sound so disconnected and aloof, as if a pet bird died instead of my nephew. I am angry at myself because of this. Sometimes I am angry that I didn't stay with my family for a few more months, instead of moving up here a month after he died.

I am not an angry person. It is am emotion that I rarely have. But I feel caught in the middle of the several stages of grief. I am beyond bargaining. I am just mad and angry that we will forever have to go on without him here. That we were given a sneak peak at his life only to have it taken away.

So of course on Monday, having watched the trailer for this movie, feelings of sadness, anger and disbelief washed over me. It was if suddenly I'd been pulled away the currents by grief . Not that it is ever really gone but that day it was...overwhelming. Marie thinks the grief will always feel worse around the holidays. And she is right. It will.

But it also has to do with something I have not talked about on this blog. My brother has been dating a girl for about a year and a half now and they are expecting a baby this spring. I know my responsible, safe sex having brother. His girlfriend is uber nice, I met her this summer and she played Rock Band with Morgan and I. We are facebook friendly and she checks on me from time to time just to say hey.

And now she is pregnant, with a baby and I am...scared. I am excited for her and my brother and my mom. But I am scared. I am already losing concrete senses of Danny, and now there is a new baby coming. A boy who they have decided to name Elliot.

Outside of pictures and videos, the particulars of Danny are fading away due to time and his absence. He would have been three this year. He would have developed a personality; including a particular laugh, smile, manner of speech. But because he is no longer here, those things that would have created a firmer impression of him, for me, don't exist. And all i have are these fleeting memories of baby stares and sleep face.

And I am afraid of forgetting him. He will always be my first nephew. He will always be the one who got away. And I don't want to feel like he is being replaced. I don't want to feel like he is being erased by my dumb hands clicking him away.

And though everything else this week has been amazing, the grief has sort of over shadowed that and put me in a weird place. I feel bare and scrubbed down to the soft fleshy part of the skin that doesn't react well to direct sunlight or air. And I plan on seeing Rabbit Hole and buying the play because I am still grieving and struggling to understand his death. I still in a weird way struggling to understand our lives sense it.

Dreadful

Another horrible night at Le Sad Store. I got yelled at by one of my co-workers (who is not a manager) because she was irritated that I was talking to Jen, the girl who quit a couple of weeks ago but stopped by the store today to say hey.

Literally mid sentence Angry Co-worker, who is bitter about being 42 and working at the bookstore, can up to Jen and I as we were catching up in an aisle and said "Beckett you are on the clock, Jen you don't work here anymore. So I need you to get to work like now, and you (Jen) to stop bothering the people who work here".

Oh yeah. Bitch went there.

After that I couldn't concentrate on anything else. All I could think about was violently punching her in the face. She is the most miserable employee there. When she isn't muttering about Le Sad Store sucking she is spouting off about politics. Surprisingly up until this moment we got along really well. I am always really nice and patient around her and I try not to judge because working at the Le Sad Store does suck but working with people who I generally get along with makes it a little easier.

But her whole tone with us (me especially) was not necessary. And the moment she scolded us she knew she'd made some mistake. She went about her business and avoided me the rest of her shift. I intend on telling her (the next time i see her) that any future disagreements she has about how I spend my time at work can be brought up to me in a manner that is full of respect. Because I'd never talk to her the way she did. Ever.

I'll even use my adult tone and everything.

The rest of the night kind of went downhill from there. Josh sent me a freaking 23 page script the other day and expected me to have had read the damn thing along with providing a critique. I fear that I am going to have to remind him that I am not his editor. I tried to do this by explaining that I 'have my own stuff to write' to which he replied 'so. that has nothing to do with me'.

And this my friends is why I don't want to help him out. But he isn't the only one who is annoying me these days and my sweet patience has worn thin. I feel like my niceness is being taken advantage of and I am sort of over it. To the point of frustrated tears.

The holidays are bringing out the worst in people (who i work with and who shop at Le Sad Store) and I dread being there.

To top it all off, there is another opening at the Job I applied to, interviewed for but did not get back in August because my phone failed me (and I subsequently pissed off the HR Manager). I applied again and am sort of stressed out about this. I am crossing my fingers that I will be called in for another interview and that I am have the colossal do-over I begged for three months ago.

I sent in the application on Friday and can only hope that I can get an interview sometime this week.

Even the good aspects of Le Sad Store are starting to sour and I need a change stat. And I feel that an opportunity for that change is on the brink, if I don't go messing it up again.

Finding Light.

Last night was not a good night. My anxiety flared up again and I was distant, cold and dear i say aloof all night at work.

Hanging around kids is interesting. Sometimes I want to fault them for getting upset so quickly at trivial things. My cousin Michelle use to freak out so quickly that I often thought she was possessed by a demon.

I mean one day, we were sitting around watching the Disney Channel during dinner when she realized her food had suddenly gone cold.

The chick started freaking out. This was beyond a kid tantrum. This was a full blown freak out attack. It wasn't my fault she let the food sit for too long. Wasn't her fault Hannah Montana was one and she was too distracted to eat her then warm chicken nuggets. But it didn't matter. Within a matter of few seconds she screamed "my......food...is...COLD" and then started convulsing on the floor.

I quickly yelled "Michelle! We'll warm it up in the microwave. Chill Out". And guess what?The convulsing stopped, the tears dried and she said "oh" and handed me her plate.

At the time I thought this very sweet child (who loves dirt and the color purple) had gone crazy. But I realized she did, to the extreme of course, what most kids do when they feel unable to fix something. The moment she touched her cold chicken nuggets, she thought they'd always be cold. That her food was ruined and inedible. And rolling around on the floor was the only way to express said frustration and doubt.

And though I have not flailed around on the floor in a very long time, I understand now every little bout of frustration that floods her face when she comes across something that doesn't know how to overcome. It's the feeling of immobility and that you can't DO anything. That you have all the tools necessary to make things better but no clue how to apply them. For Michelle it's: buttoning jackets, putting on mittens, and well...cold food.

For me, it's how to overcome (or deal with ) anxiety and depression and jealousy especially when it strikes out of nowhere.


Last night I was soooo off my game. Matt was annoying the crap out of me all night. Not just Matt.... but everyone was driving me crazy last night if I can be completely honest. Ever since i sent Josh his critique he has billed me as his editor. Last night he came up to me and wouldn't stop talking about his story and that he wanted me to go through some of his scenes and edit his sentences so that it sounds 'fancy'. Then Matt wouldn't stop bugging me about the poem I promised to write him and the story idea I said I would let him know about. He joked around and said 'I'm beginning to lose confidence in you' which you cannot (repeat:cannot) say to a girl like me.

I felt guilty the rest of the night, followed by a tinge of jealousy because the dynamic at work is changing. Kat and Pretty Ricky are now BFF's (go figure). There is a new kid who was just promoted Head Cashier after being there for 5 weeks and I just feel left out of things. Which is no one's fault but my own to be honest. I find myself wanting these meaningful connections but then denying any form of interaction that I am uncomfortable with.

I want much more from these people than what i am entitled to and when I am faced with this fact I get sullen and sad. And it doesn't help that I can be a very irrational person sometimes. I can have two polar ideas in the same breath. And I can want and not want two things in a heartbeat. I am a conflicted, complicated girl.

By the end of the night feeling all but drained of energy I sulked in a corner while no one took notice (except awesome Music Guy). Matt invited a girl from cafe (who has a boyfriend. thank god) to some event he and some friends are throwing, Josh still wouldn't shut the hell up about his writing and there was a hub of people talking and interacting and forming bonds while I remained on the outside.

When I got home I just sort of collapsed into my pillow and let out this very frustrated cry. Anxiety, for me anyway, is as much about control as it is about chaos. I get anxious because I don't know how to verbalize what I feel. I have this fear that no one wants to hear what I have to say. I am moody and sullen and quickly distracted. But those characteristics are paired with a me who 90% of the time is bubbly, funny and kind.

But around other people I feel uninteresting because I don't have fiery red hair and visible emotional scars like Kat, or dazzling blue eyes like Smurf. I don't talk about myself like I am god's gift to world like Josh. I am not really religious and hawt like Pretty Ricky. And I am not street smart like McAbs.

I am small and delicate. I hide behind my hands when people argue, I sometimes wear mismatched socks and I take pictures of light in my room because it sways like it's breathing. It sways and flickers and calms me down.

But a girl like that doesn't have pretty boys falling over them. A girl like that isn't invited into conversations that matter. A girl like me, despite everything that Smurfboy says, still finds herself alone wondering where I fit in or if I ever will.

It was a devastatingly painful night knowing that I let Anxiety shroud my thoughts like that. That I would allow Anxiety to do the opposite of what the flickering lights do in my room. That instead of creating Light where the darkness resides, I let Anxiety time and time again cast shades of doubt because it's easier than fully seeing this interesting, personable, and stellar girl that I am. Despite the troubles that get in the way.

Yeah. Last night was rough. I'm still recovering.

Days Go By.

I have the next two days off. Can you believe it.

Of course this was not by luck or chance. About six weeks ago Graphic Artist Guy from Music invited me to his Birthday party (being held today in the city). I was uber excited about getting an invite because this dude is amazing on so many levels.

But as a cool Guy his party is not only in the city but at a concert hall in the wee hours of the night. I asked several other people if they were going to go but none of them got back to me soon enough. He lives in the Bronx so traveling to the city with a bunch of his friends and his wife will be a breeze. For me on the other hand I kind of wanted to have another person from work in attendance so I wouldn't be the only new face in a sea of his friends outside of work.

I didn't know until Wednesday that I wouldn't be able to make it to his party, but by then I'd already put in a request for that day off just in case I could get someone else to tag along with me. Because of this flub I have two days off in a row this week. Two days! I haven't been home on a Monday in ages, I don't even know what to do with myself.

Of course it is muggy and grey outside and all plans of going to the library and possibly buying a nerdy sweater are on hold. Instead I am going to do some research on sacred prostitution (it's for a story. I swear) and watch some documentaries on Netflix. Did I mention how much I love Fall. It's the only season where I have appropriate excuse for not leaving the house. The chill here hits the bones and the tips of fingers and toes. Who'd want to go outside to get smacked in the face by the wind and rain when you can stay inside drinking hot chocolate in the most comfortable green pj's ever.

I rest my case.

I've been keeping my spirits up lately by writing as much as I can. When I can. For some reason I have become the go to person for people at work who are interested in writing. It doesn't matter that I haven't shown any of them pieces of my work. My BA in English is all they need to think that I can edit and critique their stories like an agent or something.

Josh, who did not mention his party disaster, wanted me to read a short scene he wrote for a story he dreamed up a few days ago. Josh has never emailed me anything of his since I have known him and I was beginning to suspect he was all talk and no show. That night he sent me a two page snippet of a scene and I was sort of impressed by how bad it..wasn't.

So it wasn't the greatest thing I've read but it has massive potential. Though he only sent me two pages, I wrote him a four page critique hoping to help him in the areas his story were weak in. I also applauded the narrative tone of his story along with his use of effective language. It wasn't until I read over my own critique that I fully released I had taken to heart the lessons of my professors.

So yeah, I am horrible with passive voice and grammar and spelling and my general technique needs work. But my ability to pick up on those errors mean that I am willing to work on them. I emailed Josh my notes last night and I am sort of interested to hear what he thinks.

At dinner with Matt the other night, who i will now refer to as Smurf because of his smurf like colored eyes and because I am worried about someone from work stumbling across this blog thus putting the names and daily happenings together, I mentioned that Josh sent me a story that wasn't too bad. I am still unsure about what we are doing. I know i should just let things work themselves out. But I analyze people. Analyze. And I am not sure if we feeling each other out (not literally of course) or becoming friends. who knows.

Anyway, at the mention of Josh and a story he made a face and said 'how'd that go'. I was sort of taken aback, mainly because they are friends but also because I have read Smurf's stories (aloud to Marie and to myself) and needless to say my ears bled. Hardcore.

I told him that I thought the snippet Josh sent me had promise and that I wanted to encourage him to keep playing around with the language. He then asked me how my writing was faring to which I explained that there is an attachment to my work that I am prepared to detach from. That I was a teen who had only one friend to her name. That I was then a college student with only a few more friends to my name and that I wrote (write) to work through things.

He totally disagreed. He thinks that the stories we write don't reveal anything about ourselves. That one can write things that have nothing to do with his or her state of mind or current situation.Wiping grease from my face I mentioned names like Plath, Dylan, Kerouac, Didion, O'Connor. For christ sakes Wright, Morrison, Sexton, Hemingway, Nabokov, Shute, Lowry....

Need I go on.

The mood was sort of perfect and dreamy as we were sitting in the low light of the pizza place talking about stories and writing. We disagreed and contradicted one another and I felt like I was reveling to much and got nervous. I let the nerdiness slip out, I talked about my anxieties, I wanted to touch his mouth.

While he is confidant about his bad stories, I am hesitant about my okay ones. He talks about his ideas with such passion that it's unfortunate that he isn't executing them well.

As for me, my stories are all so personal because i don't talk about myself in real life. They reveal what I struggle to understand about myself. They are intimate and I guess I'm not so ready to be exposed yet.

I did however promise that would write him a poem because he scuffed at the idea that poems can be fantastic (and the fact that he didn't know any of the poets I mentioned was heart breaking) . And like most aspects of my life, I am not able to communicate my thoughts or feelings that well without pen and paper. I find myself wanting to lure Smurfboy in with fancy sentences and paragraphs that don't suck. Is it awful that I find myself more interesting on paper.

I've always had problems verbalizing my ideas and emotions. I get weird and awkward and panicky when I am put in a position where I have to carry a conversation with someone other than people I've known for a long time. So when Matt asked to grab food after work, I immediately thought he wanted to go to the same pizza place and get something to go. I was unprepared for his request to 'sit down and eat' because that is what people do when they grab dinner together. And despite the success of dinner, I still feel like i fumbled about throughout. Still too nervous in my won skin.

I am not good with social clues. I ignore them. A part of my anxiety revolves around this unfounded notion that the thoughts inside my head do not make sense once verbalized. I know this is crazy because in therapy my amazing therapists said I was a natural storyteller and that I am able to explain my ideas with ease and maturity. The truth is I believe that people don't want to hear what I have to say and because of this I do not open up to them (especially men). Sometimes I feel that my ideas and feelings are coded in another language and when I try to explain them people look as if I have just spewed gibberish.

Writing is a way for me to translate things more clearly. Like a foreigner with a heavy accent, I find myself asking for a pen and paper when I have to explain things because what I am thinking may not come out how I want it to so writing becomes my mode of communication. I think that is why I do it. It's to understand and be understood. It's to connect.

Though the conversation was lively during dinner. I still felt all kinds of weird. I struggle with words and wish I could just write him notes. And damn it all to hell if his eyes weren't really really pretty from where I was sitting. And damn it all to hell that I wanted to touch his face.

I think that is enough pinning for one day. I promised myself a solid hour or two of story writing. I also made the mistake of checking out Palo Alto from work the other night, written by James Franco. Yes, that James Franco. It is really terrible. I find myself wondering if he is going to reveal that this writing thing has been a big stunt because if I have to read anymore stories of cliche California teenagers, I think I may vomit.

~Becks

Blue and I

Matt and I had dinner together tonight.

What. The. Fuck.

We worked a mid shift today at Le Sad Store and as we were both leaving (having spent a very exhausting day at work) he asked what I was doing after work.

Because my stomach growled mid sentence I couldn't deny my plans to grab a bite to eat. Just something quick and in the neighborhood.

"I'm kind of hungry too" he says, walking out the same exit I am " Want to grab something together"

After a 15 minute scan of possible places to sit and munch on food, we decide to grab pizza near by.

I tried not to show how nervous I was. He was nice and easy to talk to. We chillaxed with cheap pizza and ramblings about life.

And I think I like it. A little. And by a little I mean a lot.

For Pete Sakes why must I be such a weird girl.

Le Sigh.

Money Woes.

I just spent $476.00 on a train ticket so I can go home for Thanksgiving this year. I can't even begin to explain how much of a dent that has put on my small wallet.

I wasn't even sure I would be able to go home this year. I put in my vacation request 3 weeks ago but Evil Manager never signed off on it. Though I wanted to go home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas...I really only cared about going home for Turkey day.

So on Monday when I walked into work ,still with no word on whether I would get those days off, I approached Evil Manager about the situation. She said that we needed to have a 'talk' later on during my shift regarding the days I wanted off.

A few hours later she took me int her office and said that they were no longer taking requests for the holidays. She went into this very long explanation about retail and the importance of the whole staff being available for the days before and following Thanksgiving and Christmas. But because I am reliable and am easy to work with the managers collectively decided that I would be the only one getting the time off requested for this holiday. I won't be added to the schedule that week, and I am not suppose to tell any of my co-workers about their decision to give me that week off.

Instead of leaving on the Sunday before Thanksgiving though, I now have to leave on Monday because they are going to need me to cover a morning shift. It was the only way they would agree to give me the rest of my vacation time off. Oh, and I can forget about going home for Christmas.

You win some. You lose some.

I bought the tickets today and my mom, of course, was very excited about the news. Hell, I'm excited. I love Turkey Day. I love Thanksgiving food and being around my family. But damn it all to hell if my bank account isn't suffering because of it. In a few months I will have to start paying student loans, which makes me queasy. I have been regularly paying down the lowest of my student loans since February 2009. But the big one won't become an issue until May which in student loan land is just around the corner.

The more and more I think about having to pay back student loans, the more I have to think about the job market and career choices. Which is the last thing I want on my mind. I've hit a creative high that last couple of weeks that I am riding on. I think it's the weather. I am much more a fall, cold weather, warm socks kind of girl than a warm weather, sandals chick. I bought a new writing notebook a few days ago, which I have been filling up with ideas and treatments.

I even went on a photo walk today (because taking photos calm me) where I tried to capture my obsession with light and shadow. I haven't felt this 'inspired' by my surroundings in a very long time and I want to embrace this energy while it last.

I am serious about wanting to utilize the writing scene here.I keep watching all of these shows on creative, funny people who were apart of acting troupes or writing groups who have gone on to create 'funny ass shit'. Case in point: Strangers with Candy. Did you know Stephen Colbert, Amy Sedaris and my favorite, Paul Dinello (swoon worthy) all met via a comedy improv troupe? Yeah, and then they became like a wicked awesome writing team. Creating some hilarious skits for me to watch. Like seriously.

I've been yearning to collaborate with a like minded creative individual(s). I want to sit around and be nerdy and come up with crazy funny, intellectual, subtle humor to present. I know they are out there. Hell, I'm out here.

If I had the funds I would seriously consider taking a short 4-6 week writing class to meet people and geek out. I want to learn the structures of dramatic and comedic writing along with my own interest in novels and short stories formatting.

And I wish I had the money to test all of these creative ventures out (participating in a writing/acting troupe scares and interests me). But alas, right now I not in the position to act on these wants. Even a tentative trip to the Whitney Museum of American Art next Thursday has me worrying about how much it will cost to see an Edward Hopper exhibit.

I hate worrying about money. I hate having to budget around the budget. I would kind of prefer the starving artist thing right now, because at least I would be contributing to my own work. Who needs food anyway. Because in all honesty, outside of this recent burst of creative energy I have spent the last year or so doing everything outside of creating things.

And I sort of want to do that again. Because the last few weeks have been great (well not the worrying about money part) because I have been able to be creative and make things again.

Happenings....

Halloween was very uneventful.

I requested a morning shift on Halloween because I wanted to take my cousin trick or treating. Evil Manager singed off on my request and I went to work all dressed as Amelia Pond from Doctor Who so that I could go directly to my aunts aftewards.

No one knew who I was. I rocked a red wig, a red hoodie and a short black skirt with tights; an exact replica of Amelia's outfit from a Who episode. Everyone however thought I was a hooker. A high class one. Or worse they thought I was just dressed as a girl in a red wig. I got so many compliments on the wig that everyone was oblivious to the Doctor Who homage.

I can't fault anyone though. Outside of two people who watch the show at my job, Doctor Who remains a very British show that a lot of people who aren't a fan of British television watch. If I would have been around a bunch of Who nerds the costume would have been a success.

Once again, donning an outfit that I wouldn't be caught dead in outside of Halloween caused very strange reactions amongst my coworkers. A girl who works in Cafe, who never ever talks to me because she is girly and cool, has suddenly become my friend since. She said I look amazing with long hair and that I need to grow my short hair out 'like now'. It was sort of bizarre.

McAbs was nice and mean to me all at the same time that day. He walked into the break room as I was lounging around and did a double take. The rest of the day he quietly watched me from afar as my very long red hair fell in my face. When he finally decided to come up to me he asked "who the hell are you for Halloween" touching the ends of my 'hair'. I of course had to go over the whole "Amelia pond, she is a character from Doctor Who' thing but he got really angry when I said "it doesn't matter that no one else knows who I am, as long as Toe (my good friend from work who introduced me to Who) does then I don't really care who knows what I am dressed up as'

He then went all guy on me and said "why do you have to bring him up in every conversation. You really like him don't you". Awkward. When I calmly replied that he just so happens to be a good friend of mine, he eyed me up and down and said "yeah sure. I bet" and then stomped off. 15 minutes later he came back to apologize for the gruffness and then spent the rest of the day asking me if I needed anything; water, candy from the break room, a hand with the books in my hand.

Being a girl has it's perks.

When I got off work I dragged my very adorable 'girl skeleton' of a cousin around four neighborhood blocks for trick or treating fun. For a five year old this kid is awesome. She went two hours politely saying "happy Halloween" (and one time 'merry Christmas) to neighbors racking up so much candy that I wanted to kiss her face. We high fived all night and traded candy before I went home to watch The Walking Dead on AMC ( i fell asleep in a pool of candy just when the Deputy Sheriff guy shot half zombie person in the head. I couldn't tell you how the rest of the show went). It was a decent night. Maybe not for an average 24 year old girl living near a huge city. But I'll deal.

Interestingly enough I planned on going to Josh's big Halloween Party on Friday but after he said I had low self esteem I was not all the interested in attending.

Josh has been getting on a lot of people's nerves lately. I like the guy and all but he has this idea that because I don't ramble on about my writing process that I must suck compare to his greatness. And his 'greatness' is not limited to writing. He believes he is the hottest most interesting guy at Le Sad Store and when he got wind that another guy named Josh, who is very hot and nice, was hired he almost made us promise that we would not talk to him because 'there can only be on Josh. And you are looking at him".

Yeah. He's a gem.

Anyway when he announced, a few months back, that he was going to throw the most awesome Halloween Party ever we (by we I mean everyone at work)were sort of still on his team and wanted to attend. Since then though, people have not been feeling his cockiness and on Friday there was still a huge list of people were not sure if they would go at all. Me being one of them.

At first I wanted to go because Matt was going. But my on and off again crush with him was off that night. I just wanted to go home and sleep and dream about pretty things. I did not want to drag myself to a party I wasn't sure anyone was going to attend. And if you are as much of a fan as I am of Flight of The Conchords than you will understand my fear that I would get to his house and there would just be a bunch of dudes in comparison to girls at his house. Too Many Wangs in one room is too much for me. Makes me nervous. Seriously.

The next day at work I asked Matt how the party went and he said 'as well as a party of three people can be'. I. Shit. You. Not. Three people attended Josh's party that night. Three. A costume themed party at that. So that means three people (all of whom were dudes) were sitting around an empty house with a lot of booze dressed in ridiculous costumes.

Me and my low esteem giggled just a little inside when Matt told me this. Just a little.

Matt said Josh was pretty pissed that no one came (he might have punched a wall). Especially because the majority of his invites were to people at work. The whole night was a huge Ego bust which to be honest he needed. I'm sure we won't hear the end of this for a long time. But in all honesty his lack of guests has a lot to do with him.

Anyway

Now that Halloween is over I am back on the train that is work, finding a job and writing. The real world is smacking me in the face bur for some reason I am all to ready to take hold of the next few months. I bought a new notebook yesterday and have been writing up a storm. It's sort of exciting. I am thinking about taking a writing course somewhere. I hate that I live in a huge writing city and I have yet to utilize the community.

I'll have to do some research and see what I can find.

Oh, and because I technically have two blogs (Quiet Girl, memba' her) I've decided to use that blog solely for my picture taking ventures. A photo essay of sorts. I take (and have taken) a bunch of pictures in new york, all of which I can't possibly squeeze into one post. So instead of just letting Quiet Girl sit unwritten in, I've decided to do something with it (and surprisingly there is some traffic there that I was unaware of until tonight). S0 pictures seems the best use of that space.

Time to write for a while and then bed. I've been having some awesome dreams lately. I'm glad I am sleeping better these days.

Doctor!

Halloween kind of snuck up on me.

The people I know here are obsessed with Halloween. It is like a mini Christmas for them. They enjoy planning months in advance in order to make (yes, make) elaborate costumes and attend elaborate parties.

As someone who has spent more Halloweens alone than with people, I didn't catch on to the phenom that is Halloween activities. Don't get me wrong, I freaking love Halloween. I am use to buying candy for myself, racking up a bunch of Dvd's to watch, and chilling at home with a pizza pie and movies. The End.

But now everyone I know participates in Halloween extravaganzas, I'm not sure my own activities makes the grade. From parties, to parades to bar hopping fiascoes, I feel like my tentative plans are lackluster despite how much I enjoy doing them. The last two Halloweens I have worked or taken my cousin to Treak or Treating. I still plan on doing that this year along with setting up a Halloween Themed instant queue on Netflix (GHOSTBUSTERS!!!). Michelle wants to be a skeleton on Sunday and any opportunity to drag her around a neighborhood where she will ask and receive candy is one that I will glady take part in.

There are some parties being thrown by co-workers that I could attend, but I am not sure I am up to it; mainly because the main party is being thrown by Josh who is driving me crazy. Josh and Kat are starting to annoy the shit out of me these days. Josh rambles on and on about his writing 'ideas' (because as of yet they are just 'way awesome scenes that i am just too busy to write') and contends that I have 'low self esteem' in regards to my own stories, which is why I am not as awesome of a writer as he is.

*anger boiling*

Kat started hanging out with Pretty Ricky outside of work and can't stop gushing about how awesome he is. Josh's party is tomorrow and she mentioned it to Pretty Ricky when they were grabbing dinner. According to her he said he would only go if 'she went' and then she made a swooning gesture in the aisle which made me gag a little.

*jealousy boiling*

For this reason alone I don't feel like dragging myself after work tomorrow to his party. One because Josh said I had low self esteem and two because my moderate self esteem is jealous of Kat's continued conquest of all the male attention at work.

So, treak-or-treating and Ghostbusters it is.

I did end up buying a costume though. Today actually. This summer I had my heart set on being Amelia Pond (doctor who companion). I bought a fiery auburn wig and everything in preparation for the awesomeness that was going to be Amelia Pond/UK police outfit. But then I sort of forgot about the whole costume thing (and realized how much money it would be to buy all the things needed for a costume such as hers) and decided a couple of weeks ago that I wanted to be Daria Morgendorffer. However, trying to find clothes for an anti-social, sardonic misfit was very difficult. You'd think combat boots, a black pleated skirt and a green blazer would be easy to find.

It's not.

So I sort of gave up on that costume also went back with my original idea, except I choose the outfit pictured to mimic instead. And guess what? I think I only spent $24 on the whole costume. Armed with a red wig, a mini skirt, leggings and a red hoodie....I make a pretty awkward looking but adorable Amelia pond.

Outside of taking Michelle Trick or Treakin' I don't know where else I will wear this costume. Josh's party is a maybe, hanging out with friends is a maybe and going to the city is a definite no. But I wouldn't mind just wearing it all day and yelling "Doctor" with a Scottish accent into the air.

I do think this is the cheapest costume I've ever worn.

Thank you H&M for making Halloween costumes possible to very broke girls. If only you could provide attractive British guy wearing a bow tie.

Le Sigh Part 2.

I'm not sleeping well.

I had some coffee about three days ago which completely messed up my sleep schedule. Because of this I have been more drowsy then usual. Even sluggish. I am now cursing the fact that I even wanted coffee in the first place, while my body tries to find it's stride again.

The days are whizzing by on my end. I can't believe that Halloween is on Sunday and then that Thanksgiving will only be four weeks away. I plan on heading home, which means I must also plan on being broke for a while but it'll be worth it.

When I graduated from school I promised my mom that I would always come home for Thanksgiving and July 4th. So far I have been able to keep this promise without too much trouble. To be honest being home for those two holidays are more for my sanity than my mothers.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's one in which we all participate in without fighting. My brother even joins into excitement of the day, coming down from his room (because yes he still lives with my mom) to check up on how the food is doing. Then we will play Rock Band or some other game in the living room while my mom listens to music and cooks her heart out.

And I come home for July 4th (or the week around July 4th) to spend time with them and remember my nephew. It's as simple as that.

In the past week I have met several southern transplants here. I admit I hated living in South Carolina. Outside of my mom and brother being there I have no intention of ever moving back to the south. Don't get me wrong. The land is beautiful. The clouds down there reveal heaven. And coming from a person like me, you know that means something. I enjoy the warm weather, and the slow days and the country. But that's about it.

That doesn't mean that I don't hold a soft spot for the south however. Anytime I met someone from Tennessee or North Carolina all I want to do is talk about how different it is here. I want them to remind me of home because some nights I miss it.

Pretty Ricky is from Alabama. I found this out a few weeks ago and for some reason we have bonded over our 'southern roots'. So yeah he is a pastor. And yeah I have had very dirty thoughts about him at work (he came in the other day from a youth ministry meeting and was very a motherf*cking bowtie. I had to do everything in my power not to...well you get the picture), but when we got into a discussion at work with Josh who said Virginia was 'country'; we quickly bonded together and said 'you don't know country until you've driven through a town with one stop light'.

Ricky then added: 'stop lights, in Alabama some of the roads aren't even paved...yet'.

I kind of heart him, just as much as I sometimes heart being home in South Carolina.

On Monday at customer service, I helped a boy from Louisiana. The moment he walked up to me i was like 'cute. very cute' and then he told me he moved to New York after graduating school and couldn't find a job. To which I quickly added 'cute and ambitious'.

We spent a good while talking. His accent was very southern and he wanted to know how I got rid of mine (yeah. I didn't mention the whole born in new york thing). He said he had no intention of ever going back to Louisiana, though he could get a job back home quicker then one here: "but it wouldn't be what I wanted to do" he said " And it sure as hell wouldn't be where I wanted to live. Feel sorta stuck sometimes".

I kind of wanted to kiss his face here. I mean holy hell, I have a tendency of thinking I am the only one struggling to make something for myself here. And here he was, with very nice green eyes and an accent that was not annoying, saying the same thing I have felt. And despite wanting to grab him by the collar of his jacket and smooch his face to death, I refrained and admitted that I too was in the same boat.

"same southern boat"

I knew this would have been the best time to introduce myself (we were really hitting it off) and ask if he lived in the area. But I didn't. Instead I wished him good luck and then watched him walk out of the store.

It's was weird. Talking to him made me feel....at home. And this had nothing to do with my attraction to his face. I realize that I gravitate towards people who aren't from here. Who are doing the same thing I am, in an attempt to not settle for small town living. It's a fear of mine to be honest. There are two types of people who come from small towns. Those who don't plan on ever leaving and those who can't imagine staying.

And despite my attachment to the south. Despite the clarity of mind I get when I am home and am around farm land, blue skies and lazy southern mornings; I don't find myself wanting to go back. I want to visit. I want to stop in and say hello. But I want to make something of myself here, just to prove that I can.

Just like cute Louisiana boy with the deep accent and green eyes.

I just want to prove to myself that I can do this. To take a chance of leading an extraordinary life just because. And I have a feeling that all of these transplants I have met are doing the same thing. All in very different ways but with the very same intention. And I am not looking to lose any of the things that were nurtured in the south. I am not looking to be someone different. I, like Pretty Ricky and Louisiana and every other young transplant here, just wants to function and live outside of the unpaved roads of small towns.

Anyway.

I should try to get some sleep. I am not the best person when i am drowsy and the fact that I have to close tonight will not help at all. It is raining something beautiful here which will induce sleep better than any medication.


Remind me not to drink coffee anymore. Last year it gave me something flu like. Now it is depriving me of three days worth of sleep.

Le Sigh.

The Event

Yesterday the store had a huge event featuring a book signing and speech by a very popular TV newscaster. We've known about it for some time, but of course, didn't grasp the full weight of the visit and event until the day of.

Events at the store are dreadful. Dreadful. If you have the pleasure of opening that, you can except a million calls regarding the time the event starts. If you are closing, look forward to cleaning up after very disgusting people. And if you have a mid shift, well, there goes the rest of your day because you will be slaving your ass away to set the event up and then cleaning up afterwards.

Yeah. Fun Times.

Although the events themselves have nothing to do with actual bookstore sellers priority we are forced to participate whether we want to or not. The person in charge of these store signings is Joy, and she is anything but. Technically she is the Community Relations Manager (CRM) and does a lot of things relating to literacy programs in the community. Occasionally she gets a bunch of authors, TV personalities and musicians to come in every once in a while to sign books and take pictures.

As CRM she doesn't really interact with us that much except when an event is occurring and she needs laborers. Last Thursday when I came in on my day off, it was to help with a teacher luncheon she was throwing. My role was reduced to setting up a table, unpacking a bunch of boxes and cleaning Joy's office. I was only suppose to stay for four hours but she wanted me to help clean up. I didn't leave until 8 that night.

So a few weeks ago, when we learned that a very popular tv newscaster was coming to the store we all rolled our eyes and crossed our fingers because none of us wanted to help. Unfortunately, I along with a handful of my other co-workers worked the event last night regardless of previous complaints. We ended up setting up chairs, manning an unruly line, and almost tackling a lady with a dog.

It wasn't so horrible when I think about it now. I mean I did get paid to stand around for a good chunk of the day and tackling that lady with the dog would have been hilarious.

You know what I don't understand however... our obsession with celebrity culture. Don't get me wrong, I am a huge pop culture buff (i am trying to convince my mom to buy Scene It for Thanksgiving, because I am in the mood to demolish the family in a pop culture trivia game) but I rarely am that interested in the idea of celebrity. Unless your name is Sufjan Stevens I wont get crazy over you. And I realize now that is a very pompous thing to say. We all have people we admire from afar, but as of yet I have not been that struck by a celebrity and don't plan on doing so anytime soon(except that kid from Star Trek, i may have followed him around the store)

But every time one of these events occur I am struck by how fanatic people are about meeting someone they've seen on TV. Some cry, some primp in the line, some can't wait to touch said 'celebrities' hand as if there skin is the golden ticket to success and admiration. And don't even get me started on the schmoozers, who can kiss ass better than a dog can sniff one.

Yesterday however, the newscaster was actually kind of awesome. She was personable and engaged the crowd and said some things that made sense to me. Mainly that you have to be hard headed in order to get what you want. She described her first years in the industry where she was rejected left and right and that she couldn't understand what was wrong with her. But that one person took a chance on her and that all you really need is that one person to see potential in you.

Her whole speech revolved around being hard headed and resilient. That failure is to be expected but only the strong survive. And I don't know, despite wanting to be a person not struck my said 'famous' person, I sort of started to dig her. Not so much for her show that I don't watch or her celebrity status but because she had a point: 'do what you love, even when all else seems impossible'.

Because if leading an extraordinary life were easy, everyone would have one. We'd be a society of interesting, engaging, happy individuals exploring the world. But we aren't. And despite how difficult my life is these days, I have to believe it's because I am struggling towards something great. Or at least something that is better than average.

Say What?!?!?

Maybe I should have really read the novel Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen may be on to something when it comes to the nature of courtships.



Yesterday at work I was standing at customer service with Kat, Matt and Josh. We were talking about Halloween, and the shenanigans we were going to get into that night (does taking your 5 year old cousin count as shenanigans)when the phone rang. Since no one else seemed too excited to answer, I grabbed the line and dealt with the person on the other end.



By the time I got off the phone, the three were already engaged in another topic and had capped off the conversation with a joke where everyone but me laughed.

There is a thing you should know about me. Something I have never admitted on this journal before. I am sort of embarrassed about this but here it goes:

I am really bad at jumping in the 'middle' of things. Conversations, jokes, jump ropes, television shows. It's sort of an embarrassing and quirky trait.

I noticed this deficiency when I was a kid. I use to watch Ghostwriter (a PBS kids detective show) during dinner and was obsessed with the kid crime related drama. We had two TVs in the dinning room because my family use to watch the ABC family line up during dinner, except for me. I'd freak out if I missed an episode of my prized show.

Anyway, one night I got to the TV too late and missed the first 10 minutes of the show. Of course the 10 minutes include the initial mystery solving dilemma (the setup). For the next 20 minutes I couldn't figure out the story line to save me. I couldn't jump into the show after the commercial break and retrieve information on what transpired earlier.

So anytime I miss small chunks of situational information, I get lost and flustered. Don't watch an episode of Law and Order with me if I've missed the first 15 minutes. I will spend the rest of the show complaining that I can't figure out what the hell is going on. I could never play double dutch a school because I jumping into two rotating ropes is confusing as hell. And ugh, if I miss the setup of a really hilarious joke you can bet the punch line is going to fall flat.

There I've said it. Feels good.


My mom thinks this trait of mine is hilarious and so does Marie. The look on my face as I try to decipher missed information has been described as priceless and I'm pretty entertained by this myself. I've come to accept it.


So when Matt, Kat and Josh started to laugh and I was the only one who didn't follow, I brushed it off. Immediately I say: 'oh no, i missed something. I don't get it. confused now' and begin to walk away from them. But then Matt, says 'you do that a lot. You know. I'm starting to worry that things are just going through one ear and out the other'.

SAY WHAT? Excuse me?

But he continued:

'when i talk to you sometimes, you get a glazed look on your face and I wonder if you are paying attention at all. Seriously...'

SAY WHAT?! Times Two

I think he just called me absent-minded. Absent-minded. I am not absent-minded MATT. What the hell! I immediately got very defensive and retorted 'glazed over, I'm not five! I just didn't catch what you guys were saying'. Gosh.

Is it wrong that after that criticism, my small crush catapulted out the window and landed in a fiery pit of absent-minded fluff. I know, it is a little shallow on my part. But, being called absent-minded is not my idea of a guy showing interest in little ol' me. I don't care how sparkly my eyes are. Maybe they are sparkly because there are so glazed over from my absent minded tendency.

I mean, he's not that great of a writer (though he loves showing me his work) but I've never said in a conversation 'you're no Hemingway', especially in front of other people. I guess I'm a tad bit sensitive about personal criticism. So he didn't use the word 'absent-minded'. But the tone was very condescending, especially because he said it in front of the other two to get a reaction, as if that particular habit of mine was 'bothersome' to him.

I don't understand boys. At all.

This has potentially ended before it even started.

You Put A Force on Me.

Tomorrow can't come fast enough. Six days of work is brutal. Six days of dumb questions ('where's the nonfiction section', 'how is the fiction section organized' 'can i pay for this item at customer service where there is clearly no register?) can wear a person down. And I am all kinds of worn out. I haven't had a break for a solid 7 days. I don't plan on doing much of anything tomorrow because of this.



Last year when I started my internship with crazy publishing lady I had to go in every Tuesday and Thursday. For that reason I obviously didn't work at the bookstore those days. Even though that internship ended a year ago, I saw no reason to change my availability. I would kill for a weekend off every once in a while, but having Tuesday and Thursday off is very beneficial. For one, if an interview comes up unexpectedly I can schedule it on two very popular interview days. The day after Monday and the day before Friday. I hold on to these days off with a fiery passion. Several times I have been asked to come in on these days and my response has been swift and to the point.



'can't have other plans'.



For some reason three people have asked me to switch shifts with them this week. All of them trying to take Thursday away from me. I just can't do it. The huge migration is still taking place at Le Sad Store. Jenn's last day was Saturday and a few people will officially be out of there this week. A co-worker texted me this morning to ask for my Thursday shift because she has an interview that day, but I had to decline only because someone already asked me, to which I declined.

I would have made an exception for her but I couldn't deny the dude who already asked me request just a day ago and then switch my schedule with someone else. That wouldn't have looked good at all. So i told her that I couldn't switch shifts that day.

I may not have anything going on Thursday, but I could. You never know. I applied to some of those nonprofit jobs a week ago and I am feeling pretty good about them. If something should come up this week, I want to be able to make it. I have a tendency of putting others before myself, but in this case I can't. I too am looking for new employment, just because I don't act like an asshole at work and bitch about the job, doesn't mean that I am happy there.

This weekend was dreadful. Everyone was in a weird depressed funk that was hard to shake. It has a lot to do with the big migration taking effect and general dissatisfaction with management. Everyone, outside of the new people, are ready to move on from Le Sad Store and we have secretly held meetings about our individual exit strategy in the aisle. I am a little low key in discussing my plans but McAbs ('memba' him) had a near temper tantrum this weekend because they asked him to wear a bunny suit for an event in the children's department. Afterwards he came over to me and said 'i can't do this anymore. I fucking hate this place. I'm not going to grad school so I can wear a bunny outfit at work'.

Point heard loud and clear. Loud and Clear.

I tried to tell him worse things have happened. That he was only in the bunny suit for 15 minutes. That we all 'fucking hate this place' but that we like each other which doesn't make it that bad. We just have to hang in there and not tear each other apart in the process. He was not feeling this pick me up and spent the rest of the evening sulking and avoiding me.

I have had days like him, like everyone to be truthful, but I can't drop anchor here. I can't. Even when I want to.

I would love a new job before Christmas. It would be the best gift ever at this point. So fingers crossed for me. But until then I have to keep my head above water. I need to.

This has been a littler easier to do these days after last Monday. Ever since the weird conversation with Matt, he has, in the words of Liz Parker circa Roswell, "put a force on me'. It may be shallow to develop a crush on a boy because he may have professed an attraction to you, but dammit if that hasn't occur. Until a week ago he was just Matt; goofy, smart, attractive nice guy from work with really awesome blue eyes.

In an instant though he has become someone else. It's like he has developed a shape and form and a composition that I was never aware of until now. And like a true weirdo I want to dissect, analyze and figure him out. I think I'm beginning to understand the lure of mutual attraction. When someone likes you, you feel like you too are existing for the very first time. For someone who often feels invisible having him say something cryptic and nice has affected me.

Marie keeps telling me to forget about the Matt thing. That it doesn't really matter because he is someone I work with and we know have a lot of mutual acquaintances and he may not have any interest in me at all. This is all very true. I mean since last monday he has made no repeat attempts in engaging me like he did. He is still very nice, and goofy and smart but I can't read him. I don't know what he is thinking or feeling. I want him to tell me my eyes are pretty again dammit.

I am not being obvious about my new fond interest. I pay him about as much attention as I did before while making the rounds with my other co-workers. But I find myself lingering near him a little bit longer these days, making sure to say hi when I usually would have walked past him. He is like an endangered animal, a boy who may actually like me. And I find myself wondering what it is he sees, so that I can see it myself.

He is going to see Jackass 3D with Kat this week and asked if I wanted to go. I of course have an awful 2-10 shift and can't go but I said it would have been really cool to see it with him, because the last time we went to the movies I had a fun time. I am trying to do little girl things (without being annoying) to show interest, because as a girl with a lot of walls even my small signs of interest may not come across at all.

But his Stoicism will be the death of me.

I am possibly going to send him a sample of a short story I am writing. He finally gave me a critique of my Peru novel and said it was filled with depth and promise. I thank him the other night for giving me a nice critique and he voiced his interest in seeing more stories, 'now that you trust me a little more'. What is this boy trying to do to me?

If all else fails, and this is nothing more than a sort of interested guy, I might be able to seduce him alone with my writing. I've always been much better at expressing intimacy that way.


It's still all so very weird though.

I Will Sing You a Song I Can Lean On.

I really want to make mix cd's again.

yep.

Beckett.

Weekenders.

I really do miss my weekends.

So I'd spend the bulk of it lounging around my dorm room or bedroom watching lifetime movies and eating a subway sandwich. But still. I'd rather be contemplating what time I should get my turkey club so that I can make it back before some dumb movie about revenge than coordinating my outfit for work today.

Le sigh.

I am clocking in a six day shift this week because I was asked to cover a store event on my day off. Evil Manager asked me to come in for an extra day last weekend and I knew I should have said no. But of course because I am dying to go home for Thanksgiving, I could not turn down an extras day work.

When I got to work this Thursday, I was in charge of setting up tables and chairs and dismantling boxes. I felt like a lackey, especially as I was wheeling around this huge cart around the store. I did not participate in the actual event itself, where tea and cookies were served to teachers from the district. Instead I was a party of one, manning the meet and greet table where I didn't really meet or greet anyone.

I am running rather low on energy and motivation these days, hence my desire to have a weekend to myself, and I sort of hate the person I have become in result of it. Last night I was going over old posts from three years back and I am sort of struck by the difference in tone and narrative voice those posts are in comparison to now. Where I was lonely and miserable and awkward in school, I was also expressing myself in reaction to that with much more humor and optimism.

I feel like I have become the Debbie downer I use to silently roll my eyes at way back when. It's a little disheartening, especially because i have a written record of my life now (cause at this point, I've laid it all out here). I guess I never realize how much of a safe haven college was. So, yeah I could sulk and be miserable and bemoan about anxiety and Art Boy but I felt safe there. And the 'real world' sort of feels like you are on the edge of a really tall platform and heavy winds are blowing you about. And you are always one gust away from losing grip and falling over.

And I have a tendency of not enjoying the moment while I'm in it and then looking fondly back on opportunities that were missed. I did that in college, I am doing that now. I read a post from October 2006, the month I started therapy and I nearly teared up with happiness.

In the post I talk about my first venture into the wonderful world that is therapy. During my first session Casey, psychologist, says that we will work together to make me more congruent. When I read that sentence I was like "omg, i forgot all about that goal for myself in therapy". I have been toying with the word all day.

In Latin congruent is congruere which means to come together or agree. The person I see and the person I am are very blurred by my anxiety, depression and black and white thinking. And for the last four years (2 of which I had help from psychologists) I have been attempting to become whole. Not that I am this freaking broken, splintered person. We won't go that far. But there are cracks.

And I freaking hate that the glue that sort of held me together than was just my very awkward perseverance through the storm. I haven't lost that, but damn it all to hell if I am not drowning that in misery too. It's very hard work to be miserable, I am sort of over that for a while.

I want things to get better, I do I do. But until they do, I can't lose grip on who I am. That alone will make this quarter life crisis thing more than a pain to deal with. So maybe a change of attitude will affect change in my life.

I mean hey, I still am applying to wicked awesome jobs and planning out outfits for interviews, I may potentially have a boy to crush on who is crushing on me (more on him later) and guess who just got My So Called Life on DVD! From Netflix! This girl.

I am planning a weekend to myself soon. I don't care how the funds look. If I could spend two days to myself, eating a sandwich and watching Dead Like Me or even My So Called Life then so be it. Currently I am picking my sanity over anything else. It's what has always made things a little easier.

Some Nights....

...there isn't a pillow large enough for me to yell my frustrations into.

~Beckett

Interesting Development in the Boy Department.

Boys are confusing. Like really confusing. And after last night I think I may have no concept of the opposite sex.





So I did not contact the creepy customer guy despite a phone call and text message from him. On a creepiness scale from 1 to 10, I gave him a high 7 and in retrospect I should not have given him my number. For him to tell me, within within minutes of talking, that he was just getting over a 'depressive' state which left him despondent for weeks was kind of weird. As a person who suffers from both depression and anxiety I would never admit that to a stranger. Ever.

I mean, outside of friendly exchanges, I don't really know him and I got the feeling that he would be needy and clingy from the moment I started talking to him. So yeah, maybe he is a nice guy (and those GRE books would have been useful) but at this time even hanging out with him would feel...forced. Especially because I have had no interest in past interactions to get to know him.





It all comes down to the fact that I need to be comfortable around a guy in order to hang out with him. It's my thing. Even though Mike and I had our moments, he was the closest (and only) friend had in college. He was judgemental and hard headed and the whole extreme sports thing was not my cup of tea. But when he wasn't being annoying, he was patient and funny and didn't mind grabbing cookies with me after after class.





We never crossed the line between friend and dating because we'd missed the opportunity to do so. Marie and I talk about this 'dating time frame' all the time. I think men and women can have platonic friendships only after weighing out romantic interest. For me, every guy friendship begins with me wondering if he is someone I would potentially date. Mike was very flirty in the beginning of our friendship. He would drop hints that he was interested all the time while I shrugged my shoulders. After a few months of this we quickly became fast friends because he knew that I wouldn't date him. And I had no attraction in the beginning.





For me, you can't date your best friend. Your husband or boyfriend can eventually become your best friend but I would never want to date someone who knew EVERYTHING about me before then. Like Ducky and Sam from Pretty in Pink. Their relationship would have been disastrous after a while and that is coming from someone who is a huge supporter of Ducky. Because in all honesty, if happily ever after never worked out for them they would not only end up losing a partner but also a friend.

This is why I believe there is a window of opportunity (2 months to year) when you can date someone who is neither your friend or a complete stranger. This person is sort of an associate who you've known for a bit but not long enough to be consider a friend. There is a theory in practice and I'm not saying dating your best friend or a complete stranger is impossible but for me it seems pretty hard.



I am a pessimist in this department, I admit this. I'd feel uncomfortable dating someone who knew me for years but I can't even begin to imagine dating a stranger. This is put me in quite a bind because there are days when having a boyfriend to lean on would be...nice. But I'm not exactly sure how one falls into dating a person. Which I guess is why I am hesitant when it comes to approaching boys and/or boys approaching me. Because you know what, despite my unscientific 'dating time frame' theory, I would end up dating someone a) who was a friend for many years or b) out of the blue because I missed all the social clues of romantic pursuits that I sort of fell into dating a stranger. I wouldn't put it past me.

But the other night something really weird happened that is making me question everything.



Remember that kid Matt from work. The one who I travelled with on Nerd Day Extravaganza. The one who gave me his very crappy story to read. The one who has very pretty blue eyes that you wish did all the talking instead of his mouth sometimes. Yeah, that one.


A week or two ago we were in the break room talking about a writing project a mutual friend of ours is putting together. By writing project I mean a guy from work has put together a writing journal of sorts for us to submit work to. The first volume came out a month ago and I, of course, did not participate. Matt turned in a couple of pieces (involving zombies and strippers) and has been urging to me submit something ever since.

This is what we were talking about that day in the break room. He said he really wanted to read something of mine and if I felt uncomfortable showing him a full story he would be cool with just a summary of something. For some reason this made perfect sense. I could give him a sample of my work without really giving him a sample. Brilliant thinking Matt. So, I wrote the summary of one of my stories down on a legal pad that day and toyed with the idea of giving it to him.



After a few days of avoiding him I approached Matt as I was leaving work and handed him my folded up and by now tattered summary. When he went to grab the note I held on to it tightly and said 'i don't do this. I don't let people into my writing world. this is a very serious trust thing, and I don't trust a lot of people. this is only for you. not Josh or Kat or anyone else. just you. promise me that" I tried to say it with as much humor as I could but there was a definite seriousness to my tone. And I could see that he understood what I was saying. Because he promised me with a sincerity I rarely see that he would take good of my thoughts.



Ever since I gave him the summary though he has been acting weird towards me. Nicer maybe. Not that he was ever mean to me but our relationship has...changed. We did have a really good train ride together in August and during our visit to the museum, when he'd catch me staring at dinosaurs all by myself he would come over and to make sure i wasn't drifting away.

I sometimes have a crush on him while other days I don't. He is intelligent and funny and knows a bunch of things I don't know. He is crush worthy. Very crush worthy. But until a few months ago he was in a long distance relationship with a pretty girl in Connecticut and then when they broke up Jenn was calling dibs. So I didn't think much of it.

But after last night I don't know what to think. I don't know what he thinks and it is driving me crazy.

Here it goes:

I was working in the receiving area (in the back of the store) for a while when Matt came back there to grab some boxes from a shelf. We started talking about random things because we have a tendency of doing so. I always poke fun at him because he walks very softly and I can never hear him when he approaches. So I asked if he could carry change with him or something so I'd know when he was approaching. We continued this back and forth banter, when he suddenly picked up a magazine with a very beautiful model/actress on it and held it in the air for me to see.

"I don't get shit like this" he started "why people think men are so obsessed with women who look like this". The chick on the cover was very beautiful. Tall, and ultra skinny with hair that never (ever) stands out of place. Her boobs were huge and for god sakes legs just aren't that long. They can't be.




I shrugged and said something along the lines of 'well that's America's concept of beauty. hence why i was a very insecure teenager".





Then out of nowhere he says:





"yeah but guys like me don't like girls like this. this is not real. I've liked girls like you my whole life and it's sad that all we see on magazine are girls like her. It's...wrong when you think about it"



Excuse me, come again?



If I am exaggerating, stop me here. But what the fuck did he just say?You like girls like me. Girls like me. Repeat that again. GIRLS LIKE ME. You can't say that to Girls Like Me because we fall hard. We get butterflies in stomach. We write blog posts about you.

I played it off, I think. Maybe he was just being nice. I mean he is nice. So, I just made a joke and then returned to the project I was doing. He then says he wants to tell me that I will like because I am a girl (so he's not perfect). I laugh and say ' did you just say I'd like this story because i am a girl'





"well not because you're just a girl but because you are a girl with really unusual eyes'





And I stop smiling when he says this because I rarely make eye contact with people. But my eyes are big and brown and in the light they are creepy shade of brown. I like them, but I rarely think people pay attention to them. Especially him.





He begins the story by mentioning his ex-girlfriend, which immediately makes me hate the story. He broke up with her a few months ago, and rarely says anything about her. Anyway, he said he recently found pictures of her that he'd taken in the dark and that he was amused by how bright her eyes were. Because she has weird eyes too! And he missed her eyes the most especially when they went to bed, because they were really beautiful eyes that sparkled. And that my eyes might do the same thing, 'just saying'.



WTF? Come again?




By now my big brown sparkling eyes are fucking huge because he is starring at me and I am starring at him wondering if he is trying to tell me something. But I don't know what to say because I am not sure what I should say. Because I'm not sure if he just told me my eyes are pretty and that girls like me are beautiful. I don't know if his last minute decision to go the the city with Jenn, Kat and I had anything to do with me agreeing to go ( he did mention if I was going he would make an effort to take the day off to go too). I'm not sure if asking me to see Inception with him was to just spend some time with me. Or when he gave me a map he brought from Germany because he knows I like to put them up in my room. I'm not sure if yesterdays comments expressed interest in me or just interest in small talk.



But before I could say anything else, Kat came into the back and ran over to Matt to give him a big hug. And the moment was interrupted. That girl like me with the nice brown eyes was replaced with a girl like her. And he looked uncomfortable but didn't turn the hug down and I just resumed the last of my project while they embraced for a moment and then made a quick exit.



I don't know what to think. Maybe he was just reminiscing. Who knows, but it is all very was odd. And now I don't know what to do. The whole crush thing has flared up and I am confused by it. Dammit. Why can't boys just make sense so that I don't have to analyze everything. Because that is what I've been doing.


I mean saying he liked 'girls like me' was the equivalent of Mark Darcy telling Bridget Jones that he liked her: 'just as you are'. That changes a girl. It does.

Damn.

Little Admirer.

Um. I may have accidentally befriended a precocious nine year old at the bookstore some months ago... unwittingly of course.



Let me explain.



I fucking hate my job so much that I even hate how much I write about hating my job. But because I was a kid, teenager and sort of adult with a tendency of daydreaming about this life I want to lead and the one I am leading, I am in a funk about the current state of things. I wanted to move to New York, I wanted to work at the bookstore while I interned around town and applied to 'big people' jobs but I just had no clue it would take this long. I am wallowing in disillusionment at the moment.



But, and there is a but, the aspect of the bookstore I do love is interacting with people who like to read. And by read, I mean people who don't jump on the bandwagon of Oprah, or even the new york times, book suggestion. I like interacting with people who are either discovering new writers or who value substance over word of mouth promotion. And it's not to say that 'popular' titles aren't...good. But when I'm in a bookstore (i miss the Strand) I run my hands against the spines of books until a title catches my eye. I read the back cover copy and thumb through a few passages before I commit myself to reading it. I don't need Oprahs help in finding good reads. I like to discover my own.



Case in point: I was in the store a few days ago when a lady came asking for Oprah newest selection for her book club. Not only did she butcher the title but when her and her friend got in line her friend asked her what the book was about, seeing that she was going to spend 20 bucks on it. The lady replied 'it's about, um, this, story, where....just read the inside flap it'll let you know there". It's a little disheartening for a book lover and avid reader like myself to hear comments so dense.



Anyway, when I do come across someone who actually loves reading I will take the extra time to talk about my own favorite titles. I will suggest authors who express the same narrative content and then geek out about new and old titles alike. It's a hit or miss sometimes. You either relate to said book nerd or they thank you politely in order to continue shopping. When it's a miss, I don't really care but when I get a hit, I feel like I've contributed my knowledge of literature for once.



Most of the people I help however are teens and kids because I think they feel most comfortable approaching me. I look young, I am usually very bubbly and hell making eye contact with them isn't difficult. And I love engaging in conversation with them. I mean most of the teens and kids in this town are snotty rich twats, but when i come across a nerdy outcast who wants to read White Fang, I want to smother the nerd with love. 'read away' I want to yell, "it will get better"



A couple of months ago I was approached by a very morose child with long blond hair and blue eyes who wanted to be shown where the teen section was. She sort of lingered about at customer service for awhile before telling me that she needed help finding a book. At first I was a little annoyed by her. She kind of came out of no where and then demanded help (despite a line) but because she looked to be about 11 or 12 I decided to help her first. I don't like keeping kids waiting.



When we arrived to the kids department I turned to walk away when she said 'oh, I've read this book and this book and this book. there is nothing good in this section anymore'. She frowned and then brushed the hair out of her face with annoyance. I decided to give the girl a shot, so I asked her what she was into reading. Of course she replied 'everything' as if it was a bad thing.



I spent the next 30 minutes throwing books at her. She told me she was 12 (age will be a very important factor later) and that she 'finished books quickly'. I skipped the classics and went directly into reads I found interesting. Sort of dark (like her), negative utopia (it's never to early) and some nerd classics. She told me that her dad worked across the street and he'd given her his credit card to buy whatever she wanted. She then pulled out the gold card and placed it on top of the books she was set on buying and headed to the register.



When I returned to customer service Kat, who witnessed our exchange, said 'you two were uber cute talking about books in the teen department. I think you may have made a friend'.



Six weeks later while i was goofing around at customer service I caught the sight of blond hair from the corner of my eye. When I turned it was the girl again waiting patiently for me. And only me. She was with her mom this time and couldn't stay long but wanted to tell me she liked that books that I recommended. She said it so little infliction I thought she was poking fun. Then she walked away and I didn't see her again for another month. This time around she popped up in the children's department where I was working and said 'i bet you don't remember me' but by then the very daria isque child with blond hair was imprinted in my memories.



'No. I remember you. You read books about Death and liked a couple of things I recommended. How's it going?'



"Good, I guess" She said shrugging her shoulders. She didn't say much after that. Something about school and Fairy Tales. But then she was gone.



It has been this way for months. I run into her unexpectedly. She asks me if I remember her, I remind her that I do and then we exchange short sentences. She is odd and a little weird but she keeps seeking me out in the store. And for some reason I like helping her.



This all came to a startling revelation two weeks ago when I was approached by Molly, finally a name, while I was at the cash register. She wasn't buying anything but decided to cut in line to hang out near my register. She wanted me to know that she was interested in Greek Mythology now and if I knew of any books she could read. I got some very evil glares from customers in line due to her cutting (luckily there were two cashiers up there) but decided to talk about stories I liked from Greek Myths. She got very excited, as excited as her face allows, and I pointed her towards the mythology section. A half hour later Molly and her mom (who i met once before) came up to the register with the book i recommended.

Her mom, to molly's embarrassment, gushed that I was the girl her daughter talks about. The girl who works at the bookstore and recommends stuff that she actually likes. At this Molly turned red and walked towards the exit while her mom told me about Molly's interest in reading and writing and how I've helped. It was bizarre this whole time I thought this little girl was perhaps coming to me out of convenience, while i rambled endlessly about good books and shit. But in reality she was seeking me out. And I suddenly became very attached to her. Like a kindred spirit.

Because you know what I was Molly once. I was a very lonely, sad kid you escaped into books because I couldn't relate to kids my age. And I sought out people older because I thought they could relate. And in a weird way I have been fueling her nerdom and letting her know it's okay. Even it's through book recommendations. Can you believe it?

I was floored by this revelation. Floored. And wanted to ask Molly about her interest in reading and what she's been getting out of the books I've recommended but she was far to embarrassed to say anything except goodbye. To top it off her mom came in a few days ago to say hi to me. She was going to see a movie upstairs and knew that Molly would kill her if she didn't stop in. I asked her if Molly was always this into reading and writing, and she said this was a new thing. She then told me that Molly wrote a story about Greek Myths for her class which her teacher thought was astounding and original. When I asked her what grade Molly was in, her mom revealed that she just started the fourth or fifth. I can't remember. Turns out Molly is 9, not 12 like she told me when I met her a while ago. Even the fact that she lied to me in the beginning makes me adore her.

I think someone/thing must have sent me a mini blond blue eyed version of myself to take care of. There has got to be a reason she has latched on to me and I to her. I remember when I was her age, I admired a girl who was a few years ahead of me in school. Her name was Erin and I thought she could do no wrong. She skipped class and wrote fake hall passes but she was a Straight A student and was the epitome of....awesome. I thought she understood all the misery I felt then, even though she was popular and pretty. There was something about her, that made me think things would get better. That I could be like her in the future. I never summoned up the courage to talk to her but I admired from a far and when she graduated it was like I'd lost a friend. And it's weird to think I am in a position to provided that same sort of comfort to sad nerdy kids who like to read books that don't have vampires in them.

Le sigh.

Because of my continued interaction with Molly I have decided to apply to some non profit jobs in the city that provide art education programs for kids. I believe in emphasizing the importance of art education in school systems as well as that of science and math. And if I can nurture some sullen kid into an interesting sullen kid who writes stories about Greek Mythology than life won't feel that bad.

It can't.