So, I Guess This Is Where You Call Me A...

...Meanie.

As a relatively nice and sweet human being I am rarely called anything but...well, nice and sweet. I am by no means perfect I admit this, I am human after all. I get frustrated and aggravated like the next gal but mean I am not. Until today that is.

My patience is winding down at Le Sad Store. With only two weeks left until I am on a train to South Carolina (VACATION!) where I will spend eight stress free and book shelving (customer helping) days, I don't think I will make it at Le Sad Store.

Unfortunately I feel like this blog has become a job venting spot. I apologize for the amount of posts I make about work. But work for me takes up so much of my life right now that it is my main source of journal writing material. Most of my friends are people I work with, I work five days a week at Le Sad Store (when they aren't cutting me down to 3) and on my days off I like to spend all my time away from everyone.

Tuesday and Thursdays have become an oasis for me. Where the annoyances from my job nearly brings me to tears every shift, my days off are ideal. I don't do anything special on those days but the fact that they are spent away from people abuse the word 'customer service' is enough for me. I don't have to answer the phones, or stupid questions or point to the travel section. I don't have to pick up after people or chase down children who are not with their parents. I don't have to give creepy guys the stank eye for opening the porn mags in the fiction aisle, and I am only concerned on my days with making sure I am happy. No one else. Tuesday and Thursday are my sanity.

On Tuesday the theater charges only 6 dollars for any movie showing. All Day. So me and a friend from work usually attend a movie in the afternoon, after I have spent some time at the library getting books to read. On Thursday I stay inside all day. I have no care to step outside and face the world. By then, I've collected all my library books and snacks in advance so that I don't have to make any impromptu trips. The landlady's cat and I lounge in my room all day (the cat likes to chill at the windowsill, I in bed) where books are the only friends I crave.

I need my Tuesday and Thursdays, because lately people have been driving me crazy and not in a normal people are annoying way. Especially at work, it is damn near impossible for me to head into my shift with anything but contempt on my face. With school just out, parents have come in the store angrily yelling at us because we don't have anymore copies of a book their kid has to read for the summer. The store is trashed daily as if people weren't taught the concept of cleaning up after themselves. And the people who come in every day (the regulars. who I swear have no job) treat the place like home, so much to the point that they never want to leave and bang on the gates early in the morning when our morning meetings get a little long.

While I am usually able to be the better person in all of these situations, I have currently lost the will or patience these days to do so. The drudgery is stifling and predictable. I cannot stand when customers address me by my name (or worse an affectionate nickname) because I work there. I am tired of having to put up with people's shit because I work in retail. I understand that I wear a name tag and a part of my job description is about customer satisfaction. But when someone calls to at noon to ask if the store is open...customer satisfaction does not exist anymore. Just plain contempt. Plain ol' contempt.

The last few days have been dreadful at Le Sad Store. I already know what titles people are looking for (into thin air, the chosen, the outsiders and among the hidden), I already know what they'll say if we don't have it (is there another store near by, this is why i shop on amazon) and I've grown thick skin against the pushy 'so basically you are telling me you don't have the book I want. Well what help are you' customers. Every day they chip at my soul and I try to hold on to my own sanity.

The summer reading thing is very bothersome to me:

Summer reading for me was never mandatory when I was a kid. At the end of the year, the teacher sent us home with a list of books that were suggested reading and because I was a nerdy, nerdy kid I read the books because I wanted to. It's completely different now. The kids who come into the store can't even pronounce the title of the books they have to read (how do you pronounce Beloved? I can bet it's not how this chap the other day pronounced it).

I like having to discover books and authors to read. I like thumbing through an aisle and stumbling upon things. And while I completely encourage required reading, the looks on these kids face are painful. As if reading is something entirely boring and soul sucking.

Surprisingly this is the least of my issues with the store as of late. The regulars are killing me. They are there every day fighting (yes, actually fighting) for the most comfortable seats in our store. We know, almost all of them by name and they have tried unsuccessfully to know all of us in some way or another. I refuse to engage with someone who spends more time at the store than I do. I refuse! They ask to use our phone regularly, to find books for them they have no intention of buying and sometimes (most of the times) they try to engage in conversations as if we are friends.

There is one fellow in particular who is a regular nuisance. A rather portly guy in his mid 30's who frequents the store with his mom sometimes (he lives with her). Every day, sans mother, he comes in the store and asks if we have the new issue of playboy on the shelf. He has asked me on several occasions along with a bunch of us on the floor, even though he already knows the answer. He also has a tendency of speaking in an Indian accent to us though he is not Indian. He has done so at the registers because he thinks it is funny and one or two of us have let him know that is is offensive and inappropriate do an a stereotypical accent.

Recently, he has discovered a book in the humor section called The Fart book. It's what you think it is: a book with 8 buttons you can push that emit the sound of different farts. Creepy guy thinks this book is hilarious and makes a point of pulling it from the shelves so he can stand by customer service and push the button. For the past two weeks, he has carried this book around the store, 'sharing' the sound with customers and laughing childishly.

I have often thought of ripping the book out of his hands, of slamming it on the nearest counter and pointing out that it wasn't funny the first time he did and it is not funny now. It is clear that he is someone who suffers from horrible social skills. He does not know when enough is enough and because no one has told him differently he continues to act like a complete nuisance in public.

During our breaks we often talk about our most hated customers, and he ranks number one all the time. He is like that kid in high school who puts the kick me target on his back because his antics are annoying. He needs attention from people and cannot see when said person has become uncomfortable.

Because I was already in a bad mood I was none to happy to see him today as soon as the door opened with the Fart Book in his hand. He made his way slowly to customer service with this smile on his face and I already knew what he was going to say.

"excuse me, excuse me, tee hee, hey, don't you think this book is funny, tee hee, excuse me, excuse me, this book don't you think it's funny, fart book, tee hee, you need to look at it".

I being an amazing customer service rep, ignored him. But instead of walking away he came around the other side just in case I didn't hear him. My manager (who was also ignoring him), turned to me and we started having a conversation about nothing above the sound of his voice so he would get the picture and walk away. The two of us ignoring him made an impact and he eventually went to bother someone else.

Per usual, I let everyone know that there was a Creeper sighting in order to prepare them for his presence. Some of us have discussed that the only way to get him to stop a) being a bother and b) annoying us is to be direct. That when he is being inappropriate we need to call him on it.

But that too is something we aren't technically allowed to do. While we spend are shifts complaining about the customers who frequent the store, retail revolves around them. And while I refuse to cater or baby or be less of a person because I wear a name tag all day, I can't be all out rude.

But I thought Creepy guy was done for the day. I thought that the anger and frustration that has been building up these last two weeks would go away because he had gone away. But that would be too easy. An hour or two before my shift ended I caught sight of his superman t-shirt heading to customer service. Immediately I made a bee-line to warm whomever was there that he was on the prowl. But before I could get there, Creeper was talking to a co-worker at customer service and as I expected he wanted to know if we had any fart books in the store.

He knew where the fart book was. He put the damn thing away only hours earlier. He just wanted someone to type up the word fart in the search engine, so he could 'tee hee' and snicker.

But for some reason, I saw this as my opportunity to get something off of my chest. I approach Creeper as my coworker was typing in the title and said:

Me: "You know where the book is. Because you come in here every day and ask us to find it for you. You know this, you were just here a few hours ago. Every Day you do this!"

"Oh. I'm Sorry. Tee Hee. But I just want to know who the author is?"

Me:"No you don't. You want us to look for a book that you've put away a million times. It's becoming a little much. We understand that it is funny already. You don't have to keep telling us"

Silence.


More Silence.

My coworker was completely taken aback and didn't know what to say or do...so he kept trying to find the name of the author of the Fart Book. When he finally retrieved the name, Creepy guy sulked away (embarrassed) to the wonderful world of fart sounds.

When I came across the other side of customer service to discuss what just happened, my co-workers said that I was out of line (say what). That I should not have said what I said to the Creeper. That if a manager or someone else were in ear shot I would have gotten in trouble.

And he's right. I would have been written up.But seriously, I just couldn't take it anymore. I haven't been able to take much of Le Sad Store anymore. The stupid questions, the insensitive customers, the repetition. The old people telling me to perk up, the young people laying in the aisle. It takes all of my strength to treat the customers with any level of respect (well the ones who are nice obviously are treated so). And this guy just incites something within me that borders on rage. Unbridled annoyed rage.

Before my shift ended the music manager (a teddy bear kind of a guy) came over to tell me that a customer had complained about me to him. He smiled and said that a heavy set guy in a blue shirt said that I was a meanie(yep, meanie) and that I provided horrible customer service in regards to a fart book he was looking for.

For christ sakes. I'm officially a meanie.

I need a vacation. I need one quick. While I am not too worried about this guy calling me a 'mean person', I am quite upset that he has a small point. Working in retail is taking a toll on me. I am losing all faith in people. I am quickly annoyed and displeased with strangers and find myself having little to no patience with their expectations from me. And it's a shame because generally I like people, I am always able to see the humanity in them but lately it is as if everyone possess qualities that I find aggravating and it is making me bitter.

I don't want to be a mean person. I don't want to come across as a bitch. But the more I work in retail the more my complaints about people grow. And the only remedy is to escape before I have become a person who I can't look at in the mirror. Before I join the ranks as one of those people jaded by the real world and turned sour too quickly by the experience.

Sick Day.

Ugh between watching Judy Moody (horrible movie) with my six year old cousin, crying softly through Super 8 (the movie is damn near perfect in my eyes) and consuming an abundance of candy, movie snacks and food...I am sick.

Sick. Sickly. Icky Ickly. Sick.

There are pros and cons to my current situation. Pro's: I was able to leave work uber early today for fear of vomiting on patrons and/or passing out in the aisle somewhere. I will also get to utilize a sick day tomorrow because I rarely (ever) call out of work. I have stocked up on soup, saltine crackers and for some reason a cheap box set of Nightmare on Elm street from Target to busy me in my sick state.

Cons: Being sick.

I am achy and light headed and generally ill feeling today. Yesterday was an epic marathon of hanging out with my aunt and baby cousin, sitting through one of the worst kid flicks I have ever seen and then sitting through one of the best movies I have ever seen soon after. By 6 o'clock I thought 'hey, I'm not feeling all that great but maybe I am just worn out'. But when I got home, my body sort of crashed, my head sort of exploded and all out flu-like symptoms took hold.

While being sick is never fun, being away from people for a while to get better is just what i need. I am worn down and exhausted and all kinds of in need for some TLC.

And because I haven't had a proper sick day in a very long time I am going to do it up in style. I am going to remain in bed for the next two days with only soup, juice and netflix near by. Should my phone ring I will promptly move it away from me. I will read my old school fear street novel from front to back because it is a quick and easy read. And pj's will be my sick outfit of choice. Pants are optional.

Outside of feeling terrible I am looking forward to resting up for a while. I doubt that I have the summer flu but I do think being generally exhausted has something to do with my current state.

Super 8

...was amazing.

the end.

New Digs

First proper day in new room and while I am still figuring out where I want to place things, I know already that I adore the view.

While it was beyond hot today an unexpected afternoon thunderstorm cooled things down for a bit and of course prompted me to take some shots of the view from my window.

If it could rain like this everyday I would be the happiest gal around. I am not sure I am going to have AC this summer because the landlady hasn't said anything yet and knowing me I won't bring it up. Though this is the coolest room in my house this heatwave has all but squashed any hopes that I would have a heat free room. I spent a bulk of my day lying very still, sleeping and moving only to get more pink lemonade.

And then out of nowhere the clouds sort of grumbled and rain started pouring and maybe I was a little delusion but the heat dropped. And for a few short hours it was a nice summer afternoon, full of rain and comfort.

I'm sort of glad this week is over. Moving has taken everything out of me. Naturally I always carry with me a feeling of displacement, and having to move has made the feeling ever more present.

While next week promises to be more time consuming, I hope, at least on the home front, that the things will fall into place. That instead of having everything I own all over the place that they will have a spot to rest soon.

Until then rain and low lights will be my solace. I find the breeze and view from this new room to be phenomenal.

Good Times.

Switching rooms should not be this traumatic. The space is larger, there is more light and the view from my new window is awesome. But as I get ready to finish my final day of packing so that I can be move into the room right down the hall, I am filled with a sense of sadness at having to leave this space (though Nicole has made it quite clear that she is ready to have her own room).

I like this room. A lot. It took me a while to get use to it. The hues. The light. The sounds from across the street. But like most things, I made it mine...eventually. And I have enjoyed every day in this room.

And it's not to say that I won't like the new space because already, I am quite smitten with the layout. But I can't say that I won't walk by the room ever so often and wish that it was my space again. Le sigh.

I should be fully moved into the new room today. Friends from work offered to help, but I told them I could manage shuffling things down a hallway. And plus it will give me some time alone in both rooms.

My mom thinks this upgrade is only the beginning. Yes, she is one of those moms who puts a positive, optimistic spin on everything. "new room" she says "new job, new everything". It's the way energy of the world works. And maybe she is right. Well, hopefully because while I am anxious about leaving the things that make me comfortable behind. The excitement over upgrades cannot be denied. Beginnings are exciting, like that lyric from that Semisonic song "every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end".

I'm sort of ready for change. Scared and anxious and a little bit misty eyed. But ready.

Time to finish packing. It is going to be a long day.

Moving Day.

So a couple of weeks ago my awesome landlady informed me that one of the tenants would be moving out the first week of June. Outside of Mary (landlady) and her daughter (Nicole) I rarely run into the other two guys who live here. One resides in the room near the attic and the other has the room next to mine.

I've run into both of them a total of ten times since living here, and I kind of love that they are quiet and keep to themselves. So when she told me that the guy next to me was leaving in June, I sort of grew anxious at the thought of having a new roommate. I enjoy having the house to myself during the day. I enjoy the quiet mornings and access to the kitchen and laundry room. With another roommate comes the possibility of less alone time at home, especially if there schedule is anything like me.

But those fears were soon squashed when Mary announced that instead of getting a new tenant she wanted to give Nicole, now 9, a room of her own. Nicole has shared a room with her mother since her was a babe but now that she is older she wants her own space, as any bieber obsessed pre-teen. Because I have the smallest room in the house (which is medium size by normal standards) she wanted to know if we could do a switcheroo. With the guy next door leaving, I could have his room (with no changes in rent) so that Nicole could reside in mine.

A larger room? No change in rent? Yes please. While I adore this room, passing up a bigger one would be silly. Of course, while I knew that I would be potentially upgrading to a larger space in a few weeks I made no attempts to clean my current room in preparation. The guy next door is leaving tomorrow and Mary says I can move in as soon as possible. Preferably by Wednesday as Nicole has picked out the color she wants this room to be (purple. yikes) and painter will be there sometime this week.

While I am happy about getting a new room (and a new bed) I hate moving. Even moving just a mere two feet to my left is daunting. I have so many books, and cd's and dvd's to pack or rather to collect in order to make the move easier. I should have done that during the day instead of watching Court Tv and napping. I should have starting preparing my things for a new space instead of chilling in my current one.

Of course, that did not happen. And now I am mere days from moving into my new room with a mess currently in this one. Damn.

I apologize for the sporadic posting. Apparently I suck at balancing life, sleep and writing. Even with three days off this week, I haven't completed anything worth talking about.

And I must admit that I am really starting to hate being a reader for this literary agency. Because I am not paid for doing the reader responses I turn in, I feel less interested in actually reading the submissions. I put in about 10% of an effort to read and get a feeling for the entries but eventually succumb to sheer boredom and misery that I am required to write something about each submission.

I need to hang onto this gig long enough for it to look good on my resume but I admit this foot in the door opportunity feels more like a chore. One that I am not getting paid to even endure. And while I thought June would usher in a job opportunity, I have not heard anything back about future employment. I even applied (again) to the place I had that disastrous interview with last year. I know, I know, I know that I am only setting myself up for disappointment. But I am desperate and in need of a new job (quick) so it can't hurt to throw myself into the applicant pool again. Who knows, maybe she will hate me less the second time around.

Maybe.

I should really clean this room now. I will wait until the house is quiet so I can put the days worth of garbage outside. Note to Self: clean room more often. It will make packing things up a lot easier.

~Beckett

Oh, and I have a new Grilled Cheese post up. It's about the quarter life crisis, I am uber proud of the post because it's the most relevant and personal thing I've written on that blog.

Obviously, Doctor, You've Never Been a 13 Year Old Girl.

After four days of bliss away from work, I am not looking forward to my first day back to Le Sad store after this mini vacation.


It have been a very hot and humid week in new york. The landlady hasn't installed the AC in my room yet, and I have spent much of the week in bed, laying very still with a water bottle near by to either drink f or pour from. I am not above pouring water on myself to cool down.



With only 3 days of work this week, rent and student loans looming I wanted to take it easy. I can only stress so much about every detail before the sound of my own internal monologue drives me crazy. So I made an attempt, outside of the weather, to relax.



I spent Monday in the aisles of the library finding a handful of books to kick off the summer of reading. I read a lot more during these hot, humid months. Maybe it's because the weather always reminds me of immobility. Some days it would get so hot in south carolina the only thing you could do without breaking a sweat was curl up with a book.



I spent most of my summers doing this because I had little friends and/or activities to participate in. My mom worked (works) crazy hours which prevented her from hanging out with us during the day. My brother was too busy being...well...an older brother who didn't want to hang out with his sister all damn day.




So I read. A lot. To pass the time. To connect to something. To amuse myself. I read countless books whose titles I wish I would have written down. And even now, despite the friends and the deadlines and the applications to apply to. Despite the busy nature of my life these days, I have spent every summer since those lonely high school days reading as many books as I can in the comfort of my home with music in the background.


It's weird that I continue stockpiling books during the summer. But I take such a simplistic delight in reading books all day and drinking pink lemonade (there must be pink lemonade near by). I've already finished two of the titles I checked out this week and am trying to get through Just Kids by Patti Smith. But it's a little too pretentious for me. It's a little too 'artsy fartsy' for my liking. But I am determined to finish it. I am determined to finish a bunch of things this summer because the humidity is preventing me from doing much us.




I am simultaneously reading Virgin Suicides by Jeffery Eugenides which is one of my favorite books of all time. I don't think I will ever grow out of the connection I feel towards the tragic Lisbon sisters and the boys who mourn them. Every year since I picked the title up, four or five years ago, I have read the book like it is the first time I have come across the novel.




It is lush and atmospheric, lovely and devastating and speaks to the part of me that will always be this very delicate and frustrated girl on the fringe. And while I am not a fan of most adaptations, the movie turned out to be this beautifully crafted and well acted picture that I always recommend in tandem to the book.

There is something so airy and dreamlike about the picture. There is something so painful yet beautiful about the actress who each represent the five siblings

And while I am not the hugest Kirsten Dunst fan, she does a fine job portraying Lux. This beautiful, tortured, rebellious soul.

To be honest I read this novel more so because of the emotions it stirs up, rather than the fact that I always usher in the summer with a re-reading an old favorite.


Because I am feeling a little bit disjointed, aloof and askew these days, I have gravitated to this story where the girls seems so lost by their own existence. And while my helpless and disconnect will never feel as isolating as theirs, I can't help but relate in some weird way to them; wanting to spend a few hours understanding it all from their 'voices'.



I can't tell if my own sudden weightlessness has anything to do with general anxieties or restlessness. But lately I have been feeling out of touch. That I am not congruent. That my body and mind, thoughts and actions are going in opposite directions. And I wonder how I have lost control. Or how I have lost the grasp on it all.



I know it will pass. It always does but until then I most find some way to piece everything back together. I think another random day in the city would help. I think another day walking around with my camera, snapping pictures and then 'accidentally' getting lost in a cupcake shop would do some good.


I would love to find another garden to go to, but the only one that remotely looks interesting is in the Bronx which means I would have to take a train, a subway and a bus. Too much travel if you ask me.


If I weren't so against sitting in a park by myself, I would head to a part of central park that not many tourist visit. A small enclosed space of rocks and greenery. But I feel like secret places, such as that, has to be shared with someone else. For security sake.

But I will head to the city next week. I will. I will. While I don't mind exploring the difficulties of being an intuitive, delicate girl...I've learned not to linger in that mood for too long. While I love the Lisbon sisters and the tragedy of their youth and beauty, I can only relate for so long before I remember that I have to keep moving. That I can't lull in my own sense of disconnect for too long.


It's okay to feel weightless everyone once in a while, but the longer I stay there the harder it will be for me to return to solid ground.

Everyone Leaves...But Me.

I apologize for being a bad blogger these days.

I am suffering from another case of 'where have the days gone' and it is throwing me off my writing game, amongst other things.

I spent most of last week running around accommodating friends, sleeping in, working and watching Mystery Masterpieces' Sherlock Holmes on Netflix. Of course I now have another crush on a floppy headed British Guy (whose first name is Benedict. I mean come on, how can you not love that name?!) and am headed to the library today for some Holmes reading material.

This is another crappy week for me work wise. I clock in three days at Le Sad Store and the other four will be used to apply to jobs, try not to cry from job hunting frustrations and dance as much as I can. Hours are still being slashed despite the fact that we have lost 5 or 6 people in the last week. Most of them worked in cafe or worked when I wasn't around so their absence has no effect on me, but a couple of days ago Evan pulled me aside to let me know that he put in his two weeks notice too. And I am a little thrown off by this.

I like Evan a lot. Despite that 2 month period where I ignored him, I adore this kid. I trained him during his first weeks at Le Sad Store and ate lunch with him during the weird new kid months. We've exchanged DVD's, gone to see movies together, and he was one of the people I spent days in the city with.

I am crushed that he is leaving (happy of course that he has gotten a new job, at a, um, Harley Davidson store. I know.) and cannot wrap my head around this new wave of exits that are happening. I always describe them as waves because they consist of weeks, particularly in the summer, when a large part of our staff finds new employment. I wouldn't say better employment but new nonetheless.

Last year, right around July, we lost so many people managers were scrambling to fill their spots. That too is happening now. On Friday three people called out on a four person close. I opened, but it didn't stop evil manager from asking if I could do a double shift. I quickly said 'no' and she fumed. The next night, two people from a mid shift called out along with one closer. I was not asked to stay this time around but I made sure to get the hell out of the store before anyone could ask.

Everyone however, is pissed that hours are being slashed hardcore even as managers are hiring up a storm (taking away more hours). But after the last three days of a short staffed store I can't help but understand their decision to hire people for backup purposes. I just hope that I have a new job secured before anyone of them start working there.

I am a lot more practical about this job search. Worried, some, because there are a slew of recent grads lurking about now, but still hopeful. It doesn't mean that I am not bat-shit anxious from time to time. It doesn't mean that I haven't contemplated getting any job rather than sticking to my guns about the industry I am currently trying to break in to. But I'd go crazy if those thoughts consumed me every day. I would be in a really horrible funk if I didn't see the silver lining in it all.

I am applying to a UK production scheme just for the hell of it. I mean it can't hurt. International applicants are encourage to apply and though I have no idea how I would fund moving to the UK if I got this paid internship, having the opportunity to work abroad makes me happy. It makes me feel productive and like I am going somewhere.

Last night I was joking around at customer service with our newest head cashier, a kid who is just 19 and a Freshman in college. No one knows how he got a head cashier position so quickly. He'd only been there a month or two when they offered him the raise and of course he didn't turn it down. He is a very smart, attractive, creative guy who is mature for his age and he has become the 'golden boy who can do no wrong' to the managers.

At first I didn't like him to much but over time we have developed a very joking jovial relationship. He was hanging around customer service during his break last night because he needed help finding a book. It was a Adobe Suite CS5 manual (?) that he could not find anywhree in the store but that he 'needed' because he wants to work as a freelance designer and wanted a leg up on the competition. I repeat the child is 19 years old.

I, naturally, assist him in finding his book while he explains that he needs the book so he can start a website that will help people start their own webpages. It'll be like a hosting site or something and he has already claimed a domain name. When we finally come across the book he explains that wants the website to be up and running soon, so that he can start his own business within a matter of months(only 19, remember this).

He was rambling so fast that I had to ask him to slow down, 'you're only 19'. I continued with a general 'ambition is cool and all but at 19 I was moping floors at a philly cheesesteak joint (that lasted all but 6 weeks)' spiel but he was too busy thumbing through the manual to pay attention.

I know, some kids are just driven, some kids have that ambition sort of thing going on but at 19, I couldn't imagine wanting all that responsibility. At 19, I wished I would have been more of a 19 year old. It irks me how he talks about people in their 20's. As if we lack the ambition that kids his age have. I am only 6 years older than this guy but he acts as if the age gap is by generation.

He tellls me that he is 'so ambitious and independent' because he can't depend on his wealthy parents to support him. I understand this. I tell him this. And I agree that thinking about the future now is always a good thing.

But as we are talking about goals and such he says, out of nowhere, that he doesn't want to end up like me when he graduates college in three years. I. Shit. You. Not.

I know he was just joking, he said he was just joking, I pretended to cry in my hands (while I boiled with rage inside) to make him feel bad. He then tried to apologize for the way it came out and he said 'I'm kidding you know that, if i was a writer like you, working at the bookstore would be ideal. you know, but I want to work in graphic design so being a Head Cashier here is like, dumb, you know. I couldn't imagine being 23 and still working here'.

So cute. So young. So naive.

I agreed some. And then walked away, trying not to destroy something. I let the comment go the rest of the day. I went about my shift as if he hadn't just said that. And then I got home, and it ate at me. It burned through my flesh and tore at my veins. What the hell?! What a polarizing thing to say to someone. As if I enjoy being a 25 year old bookseller because I know how to put a couple of sentences together to form a cohesive thought. What a dumb thing to say to someone just because you assume they lack ambition? The comment infuriates me on so many levels and insults my already bruised ego.

I sure as hell don't want to be anyone's template on 'what not to do'. I sure as hell don't want to be anyone's worse case scenario. Because truthfully, despite the aggravation, frustration and general anxieties I know that I have more potential than being at Le Sad Store and I am working my ass off to prove this to myself.

And it sucks hardcore that everyone around me is leaving, that everything is in this beautiful state of change (again) and I feel left behind. But I know this won't last forever. It is not as if I am standing still while everything revolves around me. It is not as if I have given up hope that I will get a new job, or a UK production scheme, or maybe incentive to try grad school. I know this.

I just have to keep moving and catch up to the things that I want. It's a lot harder than I thought. He'll learn that in a few years.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings.

I should get dressed and out of bed. There are so many books I want to read this summer and despite the thunderstorm clouds I see from my window, I really want to stop by the library and pick up a few things. I don't know why the library is so relaxing. Oh, because there are free books. My bad.

~Beckett

Rainy Sunday.

I've up and done something to internet explorer. I haven't been able to log into blogger for days now. I guess this can be shelved as a 'check, check, one, two three...is this thing working' post. I apologize in advance for the randomness.

I know blogger was updating it's server a few days ago, but something has happened between Tuesday and now. I couldn't login at first. And then when that failed, I was unable to access the website altogether. I was having quite the panic attack about this.

I thought I lost all of my entries from the get go. I accessed the site from my phone and it suggested that I try using another internet browser because I probably messed up cookie feature.So for now, i'll have to use Safari in order to access my blog, at least until I can figure out what the hell I did on internet explorer.

Anyway,

I requested today off a couple of weeks ago because I had plans with my aunt and cousin to attend an art fair in Sleepy Hollow. But we are a family full of flakes, and she didn't call this week to set up a time to be at her house and I was to lazy to call and ask her if our plans were still on. Plus, I kind of just wanted a weekend to myself again.

I'm a selfish, selfish girl and quite possibly the only 25 year old who likes not having anything to do on the weekend.

With summer just around the corner, I am making half-hearted attempts to a) curb my terrible eating habits (um, eating anything in my sights that looks like a cookie) and prepare myself for a summer of activity and job hunting.

I actually spent some time today applying to another literary agency gig in the city. It's a pretty small company (3 agents and the owner) but I feel oddly confident about getting an interview. I am weeks away from having to face student loan repayments which is causing a damn near heart attack before sleep. I am in the home stretch and have to find something quick.

Le Sad Store is still cutting hours all the while interviewing people to hire for the summer. My attitude has been less than stellar making it even harder to bear dealing with customers and screaming children. The other day, some mom let her kid trail popcorn all around the kids department. She did not clean this mess up when she left and I refused to do so while I was there. So the department smelled of kernel all day.

Outside of my dissatisfaction at work, I think my weird funk, lag, is all but behind me. While I am not excited about hotter weather (I prefer wind and rain) the sun has inspired activity. I am jotting down a reading list for the summer, along with various places I'd like to visit in or around the city. Apparently in Brooklyn there is a rooftop cinema where you can watch classic movies. I will find someone to drag to this. I will.

Plus there are going to be many parks and zoos now available to explore. Having a steady job, with steady income would fund these excursions well. Heather has been damn near perfect in advice, as we are both in the same position. Outside of talking up Harry Potter to such acclaim that I had no choice but to start reading the series, we are job hunting buddies.

And after checking out this agency, I like it a lot. Their website is pretty basic but i've been able to get a sense of the people who work there via facebook (and one of their leading agents is a cute Brit. tee hee). But who knows. I have to apply first, and hope that my qualifications pay off, and hope that I am not scared shitless during the interview like I was last time. I'll worry about all of that when it comes around, I guess.

I think I am going to finish the rest of my Sunday night, finishing up Harry Potter and listening to Beach House. I'm more relieved that blogger works and that I haven't lost this journal. I was starting to get worried after countless attempts to connect to the site.

My anxiety has now been put to rest and I don't have to start writing post from the library again. Last time I attempted that I sat next to a guy clearly looking at porn.

~Beckett

She's Just Not That Into You....No, Seriously.

So I have this friend at work who left his pregnant wife for a cafe server soon after I started working at Le Sad Store. Yeah it was pretty bad.

For weeks all anyone could do was gossip about how 'distasteful' the whole thing was. He was 24 at the time and married a girl who he 'didn't really love but felt really close'to'. His exact words. A lot of people from work even attended their small wedding. And soon she became pregnant with their kid.

So when he started being really friendly with Cafe Chick, everyone silently judged. When he started being touchy touchy with her, every one was grossed out. And when he announced that he was leaving his now 8 months pregnant wife, well, everyone called him out on it.

This alone should have stopped me from being friends with him. Cheating is icky. I would feel all sorts of betrayed if the guy I was seeing decided he that needed someone else to satisfy him. I would feel all sorts of ashamed that I'd let this guy into my life only for him to step all over our commitment.


And cheating is cheating. Whether you are married or dating some guy or a girl, the moment you step outside of a relationship is wrong.

But me and this guy have grown to form quite the friendship outside my first initial impression of him. Outside of my lack of respect for his character and actions. In fact, despite him being a cheater, he's one of my closest friends at work. He introduced me to doctor who, we've hung out a billion time watching movies and talking about superheroes. I find him to be a funny, interesting though flawed friend.


But I've never 'agreed' with his relationship with this cafe server. Not just because he cheated on his wife with this chick. But as very platonic friend, I think it's safe to admit that Cafe Girl and him make an odd couple.

Their relationship has always been weird because outside of, i guess, sexual attraction,they are polar opposites. She is a moody girl, who complains a lot and takes things way to seriously. She is also a control freak. He is a childish man/child who cannot take anything seriously even when you want him to. And he often throws tantrums when he doesn't get his way and then expects everyone to care about what is ailing him.

She treats him like a child (she has reason too) and he relies on her like she is a mom. A bunch of us recently stopped going over their house (yep, they moved in together) because the tension between them was unbearable. I once went over to watch horror movies with him and when she came home I invited her to stay and join us in our horror marathon. She immediately accepted the invitation and took a seat next to him on the couch.

The complaints continued the instant she sat down. The popcorn was too salty, the movie sucked, why didn't he take out the recyclables, why were we talking through the movie. I quickly decided that I would stay until the movie ended and then make my way home to my safe pleasant house.

I don't know when the honeymoon period ended for them (or if it ever really started) but they fight nonstop in front of any and everyone. And not in a funny playful way. They argue about the stupidest things and then shoot each other 'i hate you' stares.


For the past year, he has made comments to everyone that he was going to break up with her. That she is an awful girlfriend who completely emasculates him in public. He talks badly about her nonstop when she isn't around to the point where we all sort of roll our eyes in a 'do it already or shut up' way.

And I know as a friend I should tolerate at least hearing about their failing relationship but to be honest I couldn't care less. A part of me attributes his complete misery in this relationship to karma. That he is getting exactly what he deserved.


Last week a couple of us went to an arcade( i slayed zombies like a champ) to blow off some steam. The whole bus ride there He wouldn't let up about his relationship problems. They hate each other, they don't talk, she doesn't want to be touched, he hates going home. I sort of zoned out. Then tried to change the conversation. Then zoned out again and played with my camera phone.


I just can't take pity on a cheater who is now miserable in his current relationship. I can't. And the fact that they've both let it go on this long is just....dumb.

But we were all sort of surprised when a few days ago he posted online that he was now single! That they were finally over! But it wasn't him who pulled the plug

After months of talking badly about her to other people, wishing he would have stayed with his ex-wife, getting customers number at work ( I forgot to add that part) and telling every one that Cafe Server was the worst mistake in his life....she left him.

She told him that she was no longer loved him and that she needs to move on with her life.



Oh-em-gee.


I of course found all of this out via facebook (the site is becoming a headache) and sent him a text message. He said that he wanted tell me what happened in person and if I was able to grab coffee or something. This was Friday and surprisingly I had plans to hang out with Heather (i adore this girl) that afternoon. I told him that I was going to be busy most of the day but that I could swing by work later for a little while.


I was having a perfectly nerdy time with Heather the next day, which made having to see him (and hear about the breakup) even more of a nuisance. Heather and I watched Kickass at her house while eating pizza and filling in our life experiences. She showed me so more job sites to beef up my search and I looked over her resume to give some feedback. The fact that I've made a friend who is like me in so many ways is amazing. The fact that I have a friend outside of Le Sad Store is even better. We are really hitting it off.

And just as she was convincing me to give the Harry Potter series a try (she wants to have a harry potter movie marathon before the last one comes out in July) I got a text from Him asking where I was. I didn't even realize that it was getting late and me and Heather were still having a blast.Though I hate using phones while hanging out with people, I excused myself to text him back saying 'I'm in the middle of something, but I'll be there as soon as I can'. I apologized to Heather for having to put an end to our awesome day but 'my friend just broke up with his girlfriend.....drama time'.

She dropped me off at work and I found him sulking in the break room. The first thing he said was 'I can't believe she broke up with me. I gave up everything for her and loved her'.

Um, weren't you just badmouthing her two days ago, didn't you just show me a picture of some chick you went on a 'kinda date' with while Cafe Chick went on a trip. I don't understand why suddenly there is an about face. Why suddenly you are the victim in your relationships demise.

I didn't think it was possible that someone could get more annoying without a significant other but he is proving otherwise. Suddenly, in a platonic way of course, I have had to console him in his heartache. He wants to talk all the time. He wants to know what went wrong and why. He wants to win her back because outside of hating her guts, he loves her. He can't believe she broke up with him first.

There is only so much I can tolerate as a girl. During these conversations I find myself drifting to a place where his voice cannot be heard. I find myself wanting to say something incredibly rude like 'maybe she broke up with you because while she wasn't the best girlfriend (and actively pursued a married man) you aren't a good boyfriend at all".

The guy is 26! Divorced, a father and still lacking any sense of responsibility for everything he does. How do you accumulate this much baggage at 26? How do you expect anyone (especially) me to feel pity.

I have no idea what to do. He wants me to help him look for an apartment in the next week or so, but I fear that he will suggest that the two of us should become roommates (hell no). Or worse. That I will fully grow so sick of hearing about how 'she wronged him' that I will be incredibly rude and distance myself from him.

Because while I disagree with their whole relationship, Cafe Chick may have a point. Why stay with someone you aren't completely interested in. Why continue shaking up in an apartment when you cannot tolerate the sight of each other. Maybe, simply put, she is just not interested in being his girlfriend anymore. And to tell you the truth, I can't really fault her.

Tis Friday!

I have today off. It's weird. I'm so not use to having Friday's off I had to remind myself last night that I did not have to go to bed early for work in the morning.





This week has felt less like a mini-vacation and more like an 'errand running and hanging out with people' week. I've totally ignored some deadlines in favor of applying to jobs, hitting up an arcade and cooking pasta.

I recently found this incredibly awesome internship to apply to and am investing a lot of energy to submit the application before the closing date. Sorry Literary Agency you'll get your reader response next week.



Did I mention this internship is in the UK! A while back I was interested in applying to a production work scheme with BBC. It was after I went on an interview with BBC America that I starting looking into actual work programs over there. I love British television. Outside of Doctor Who, the Brits know how to make good television programs. Survivors, Mr. Bean, Blackadder, Monday/Monday, It Crowd, the Inbetweeners. I could go on.

So on some level it makes sense to learn more about British programming in the UK.



Overseas most of the work schemes or internships are paid for and because I have little ties to my life in the states combined with a huge desire to be near British boys, I've been hunting down the right internship since August.





The BBC one turned out to be a bust. The application was beyond impossible to complete. Not only did it require a lengthy written application but I would have to send in a production reel. So, I put that opportunity behind me (production reel, that would involve learning how to edit first) and kept searching. A few days ago I stumbled upon a communications and marketing internship with another television company. It's a 12 month, paid internship in a field of my interest (kinda) and would be amazing if I got it.





The application is due next Saturday. I'm sending it in on Monday. I don't even care if this is a ridiculous thing to do. I'm doing it. And if I get it, I would freak out beyond freak out. Could you imagine the things I'd see and write about.





I realize now that wanting a change and actually making the change happen are two different things. And four days away from the Le Sad Store has put many a things in perspective. In retail, even though cashiers and customer service people deal with a majority of people's bullshit all day (some later cried in front of me on Wednesday because she was new to the area and hated everything) we are low on the totem poll, even to the managers. Oh, the store couldn't function without us busting our ass but no one cares because we are replaceable. There is some other desperate, young sap ready to take our place.





Despite my hours being cut dramatically, Le Sad Store is actually hiring new people. The other day some girl called in to check on the status of on the interview she came in for the week before. She will most likely will start in a few weeks and I am not too pleased about this only because all we hear about are the amount of hours the store isn't able to give out because of fiscal year b.s. and now we are hiring more people who will, take hours away from us.





At 25 I really do want to work for a company that believes in me as much I as believe it. And that, along with wanting to utilize real skills, is why I need to leave Le Sad Store. Wow, I think I just said a very adult thing. Weird.





So while I have a manuscript report to compose, a post to write (darren criss post most likely) and a room that is in serious need of cleaning I have been using most of my energy to sound smart, witty and awesome as hell for this internship. I don't know if I'll get it or if Americans are allowed to apply but it can't hurt. Right? I could finally be UK bound. For a whole year, and I wouldn't be broke.



Outside of working on the application today, Heather (the old friend I'm reconnecting with) and I are going to munch on pizza and watch movies at her place for a little bit. She is actually the most delightful person I've met here. It's like our friendship has just been on pause for the last 15 years and we've picked up quite nicely as friends. It's nice having a friend outside of Le Sad Store, someone I can just watch movies with and talk about Darren Criss or Tosh 2.0 without sounding nerdy.

So yeah, on my very first Friday off in a very long time, I've got a internship to apply to, a post to write and a friend to hang out with. Things are looking up. Except for my allergies which are beating the hell out of me, things are looking up.

May 4th 2011.

Yesterday (may 4th )my nephew Elijah would have turned four years old. Oh, wow where is time going.

I just learned that today/tonight, yesterday (I'm writing at a weird hour. sorry) that the fourth of May is Star Wars day or something. He was born on Stars War day.

I have had many discussions at work about nerd culture and whether I fall into the category of nerdom. It's weird, I didn't think that there needed to be any discussions on whether I was a nerd. Apparently they weren't friends with me in high school or college.

It wasn't until I moved up here that I learned that my nerdy, and geeky and book wormy self does not automatically classify me as a nerd, per se. Not to any of the people I hang out with anyway.


In actuality, I am a person (by somes standards) who has all the nerd like qualities while lacking the essential 'depth' to earn the nerd badge. The depth stems from the fact that I have never seen Star Wars and apparently any one who considers themselves a nerd has had to seen Star Wary.

Yep, I may be the only person in the whole entire world who hasn't seen any of the movies. And not because I haven't had access to them but because, in all honesty, I have had no interest in seeing them.

I like some space movies, but this one has never drawn me in. And, like my hesitation with Doctor Who, I'm afraid it's nerdiness will suck me in.

So I haven't seen them. I haven't even made the attempts to. And apparently in nerd land, or being a human being land, this disqualifies in terms of labeling myself a nerd.

And today of all days I learned that the 4th is a huge stars day. Everyone at work kept saying things like "my the fourth be with you' while I shrugged my shoulders and went about my own solitary business.
When someone asked what was wrong, I mumbled something along the lines of 'i don't give a shit about Star Wars day' and sulked away. Because May 4th will never be Stars Wars for me. It will always be Elijah's birthday. It will always be some day that we won't be able to celebrate with him. It'll always be a day where I'd like to acknowledge he existed among the stars just for a little while.

Grief continues to be a very weird thing. I am more emotional around his birthday than the day he died. For the past two years my family and I have used July 4th as a celebration of his short life. We pretend that the fireworks that light the sky are for him in some weird celebratory way. That everyone is kissing the sky with their praises of him.

But on his birthday, I can't escape the reality that the day of his birth will always be difficult. It will always remind me that time continues to go on without him. That every year we get older and form new memories and bonds and yet he will always be a life interrupted in our story.

And I don't know anger. Not real anger anyway. I don't know how to be completely pissed at whomever for his death. I can only feel this incredible sadness around his birthday. I can only imagine who he would have been. And the truth is more devastating than fiction.

We weren't incredibly close to his mom (my brothers ditsy ex-girlfriend). She moved away before Elijah was born and remains in the Midwest somewhere. She was a nomadic sort of gal with no homestead and an eagerness to escape. We have stopped any and all communications with her even though she calls every once in a while to see how we are doing. We blame her in a way. We have our reasons.

And I know, that if he'd reached four my mom, brother and I would have been very distinct relatives to him. We would be voices on the phone. Corny birthday cards and oddly smiling people in photos to him. We wouldn't have known him that well, I wouldn't be able to tell you his favorite color or tv show. I wouldn't be able to describe his laughter or cries. I would only be able to tell you that I loved him because he was family. The first born son to my very immature brother.

Even then this reality of what his life at four would have been is not what keeps me up at night. It is not what makes me sad on the fourth of May. The toddler I imagine him being and the life I wished he would have had continues to weigh heavy. I am overcome by tears from time to time; at work, walking home, or in my room at night because what I mourn the most about his death is that he will never get to be a part of this stupid beautiful, terrifying and strangely comforting world.

He will never get to not watch Star Wars or misbehave in public to the point where my mom gives the evil eye. He will celebrate holidays with us or graduate kindergarten. He will never grow to hate or resent us, like we all do of our relatives. He will never grow to accept our craziness for love and to bury his face in our shoulders.

And everyday the world just keeps revolving and happening and going on. We just keep getting older and celebrating dumb Star Wars day and being alive ....and he's not here to be apart of it. And I don't think I'll ever get over that. I don't think it'll ever make sense of that in my mind.

His birthday continues to be difficult. We continue to talk about him as the 'baby'. As if he isn't really gone at all but instead just tucked away into some pocket of time we aren't allowed to access yet. As if he is hiding and waiting for us to find him.

But it's weird to say that with time, grief is becoming bearable. That the will pangs of sadness flood me even more than the did when he died, I am learning to adapt out of love. That with time, we aren't forgetting him, we are just learning to adapt around his absence. Out of love. It what keeps us going.

It makes it easier, knowing that while time is erasing the particulars of him from my memories that I can hold on to the fact that he continues to be loved (terribly) and missed (terribly) and mourned (terribly) on May 4th. A day that will forever be his. Out of love.

Here We Go Again.

Because my job is awesome (wait for it) and fair (wait for it) and distributes hours evenly among employees (wait for it) I have four days off this week. Four. Can you sense the sarcasm.

On Wednesday the schedule for this week was posted and I nearly cried when I saw that I would only be working Sunday, Wednesday and Saturday. Three days of short five hour closing shifts. Thanks to Evil Manager, I am not going to make any money this week, which won't help my increasing brokeassness.

I called my mom in near panic when I saw the schedule and she said I should go to Evil Manager and say something. That I should explain that I know that hours are being slashed left and right but that I can't live off off of three days. I can't even kind of live off of three days. But I hate having to explain my financial situation to people. I hate having to bring up the fact that I am supporting myself solely from this job and can barely do so with this money alone.



I am still applying to jobs, writing 'look at me' cover letters, and running to my phone every time it rings hoping that it is some employer but my spirits have been a little low (even with new doctor who episodes airing) and this Le Sad Store mess almost put me out of commission. I feel all over the place and tired and general disinterest in anything outside of sleep.

But time is not on my side. I don't really have the luxury of wallowing for too long. Some days I have to tell myself to keep moving forward, despite the hurdles that continue to present themselves.

I feel like we should still be in march. I don't know what the hell happened to April or why it is already the 2nd of May but summer is right around the corner and any thought I had of having a job by the first of may is completely out the window.

It's strange. Very strange. To think that only months ago I thought I would have a job by now and yet I am still in the same situation, if not worse. I am still at Le Sad Store, I am still broke as broke can get and I I still have no concrete idea of what I will be doing in the next few months.

I just need concrete ways to get from my ideas to reality. Which is very hard to do because I am a daydreamer. But I'd rather sit down and map out what exactly I need to do in order to get me where I need to be, rather than dreaming up a life I am not any closer to having.

I am envious of the people around me who have actual plans for the future, none involving being at Le Sad Store.Evan is taking up bar tending classes in the city so he can get some sort of license. People still in school are either going abroad or taking some time off to hang out with friends at the beaches near by.

And me, while I'm starting to feel like a staple at the store, the one constant thing there that everyone can reference back to. The person who isn't 'going anywhere'.

I am frustrated, which is terrible to be when everything around me is in bloom. I am not much of a green thumb, i have the worst allergies in the world, and I am not really a fan of hot weather but with Summer coming around I feel some form excitement in my belly for the warmth and possibility.

The greyness of winter is all but forgotten. It's as if I went to bed one rainy night and woke up to green lawns filled with tulips. No lie. And outside of my general frustration and resentment, I am as excited about summer. I am going to buy skirts (because they are cheap and not heavy) and t-shirts to replace my current wardrobe of sweaters and pants. I want to buy a plant for my room along with de-cluttering the place. And I am storing up recipes to try when I have the kitchen all to myself.

I am even planning small trips to the city. Nothing as epic as my birthday, but I am obsessed with finding another garden retreat. And the zoo, central park and other outdoorsy things are on my brain. Which is a good thing. I need a break from my routine. My birthday extravaganza put me in such a great mood that I hope to replicate the same optimism and enthusiasm that ushered March in.

Because I know loan repayments are just around the corner. I know this. And I know that the job hunt is tiresome and daunting (despite my valiant efforts to do so). But I I have to put things in perspective, and I have to keep my spirits up and I can't drop anchor here, even if more sleepless nights are in my future.

There are things I really have to contemplate. I really must figure out if going to England for a production scheme is realistic (though the thought is the most ideal aspect). Or if I can tolerate or afford grad school ( I really don't want to go to grad school) or if I should just get a new job altogether as Le Sad Store seems to have no space for me anymore.

I don't know. All the thinking makes me tired, weary and a little angry but with April out of the picture I can focus on making waves in May. Something has to change soon. I know I say this a lot and by now it sounds like a broken record, but it has to for my sanity and peace of mind.

And with four days off this week I minus well use the time to figure some things out.

Exhausted Kitty.

this week beat the crap out of me.

Call me when it's over.

~Beckett

Tee Hee.

So I may have requested to have today off just so I can watch the season premier of Doctor Who tonight.

I know, I know, very lame and nerdy bordering on geek like territory. But I just couldn't imagine being at work, until close, with unruly teenagers and despondent co-workers on a very beautiful rainy day while Doctor Who was on. I just couldn't.

And for some reason this week just beat the crap out of me. I had so many things to do, not enough time to do them all but I was too much of a hardheaded person to space the events out. I felt all kinds of spread thin and exhausted.

So while my reasons may be nerdy and now I am a day short of making money, I do not care. It's Doctor Who day. And it's rainy which always evokes feelings of England. And I couldn't be happier.

I meet the coolest Who fan the other day. The kid was like 12 and was shopping in the teen department with his mom. I was helping a truly unpleasant man a few shelves down when I turned to see the boy holding a doctor who box set. I ditched the customer quickly with a 'have a good day' and went up to the kid.

"shows coming out tomorrow are you excited?" I asked. I was not expecting much of a response outside of 'yeah, i guess'. Instead he stood up quickly and exclaimed:

"I've been waiting for months now. the show is sooooo good and I love Matt Smith as the Doctor, I want to watch all the episodes before tomorrow but I don't think I'll have the time. And my sister is coming home from China tomorrow. China and we love the show and watch it together and I bought this for her with gift cards I got for my birthday and we plan on spending the day watching the series at home with our parents. I'm so excited"

I almost hugged him. I wanted to laugh he was so excited. By the time he finished he was very red faced and grinning from ear to ear. Instead of giving the kid a bear hug, I said something about there being an all day marathon tomorrow (today) and that he could catch some of the old seasons on BBC America as well.

His mom joined into the conversation as well, to see who her son was talking to, and said that while she wasn't as big of as fan as her son she enjoys watching the show with her kids. It's become a family thing. I got all kinds of weepy and happy when she admitted this, and wished them a happy Who premiere night when they left the store.

I have some reservations about getting older and the social expectations of marrying, settling down, and having kids. At 25, most of the people I went to high school with have married their high school sweethearts or college beaus and have popped out at least one child by now.

Their online life consists of profile pics of bland looking children and status updates about potty training and breast feeding. It seems all so blah, and yuck. Especially because I do not want any of that.

Obviously I am not so conventional when it comes to domestic living. I am a 'selfish' single person who likes being responsible only for my own wants. I am at that weird age where my past life as a 18 year high school senior relying on my mother for stability comfort and money parallel the life I will have as a career 'girl' who will have to asses her life socially, romantically and professionally in the future.

In this awkward middle place, my perspective about child me and adult me is very terrifying and tear inducing. I can only look left to reminisce about being a teenager and my home life from those turbulent teen days (which when I think about now weren't all that bad or turbulent. But rather nice and simple and easy compared to life now) and to the right I am anxious and excited about who I will be( ten years from now) and the people I will have in my life, and all the prospects of adult living that will come with.

And sometimes when I do think about what I would like in ten years, a family is up there somewhere. A distant foggy image of them anyway, where I am a mom to a nice pre-teen boy who purchases (with birthday gift cards) his sister a dvd of a show the whole family watches just because it brings happiness to them all.

I miss being home some days. I miss my mom and my brother. And at 25, I can only miss my place in a family unit because I am so far away from my own version of it, but so far from creating one for myself.

There I go thinking to much again.

The point is, Doctor Who is coming on tonight and that kid reminded me why I have no reason to be ashamed about loving the show. It's amazing. Matt Smith is amazing and the story lines are captivating. I am excited to no end that my next few Saturdays will involve geeking out to Doctor Who.

I have my chips, soda and food ready for my night of adventure (and British accents) while I drool over the hotness that is Matt Smith (I really must met a nice British boy).

I was suppose to watch the premier with friends tonight but the rain has deterred me and honestly I would rather spend the day inside. To myself. I like having no plans and the idea of even looking outside is too much of an effort.

I love that I am accepting how much of a nerd I am. It has made life a lot easier and a lot more fulfilling.

Epic Fail.

Is it possible to be both a great babysitter and awful one? I think so.

Ever since the success of my last babysitting stint I knew I would be sitting again come Spring Break. Outside of not being able to sleep on my day off, I generally like babysitting. It's easy money, I get to stay home and Nicole, my landlady's daughter, is a spunky,creative, nine year old who is both funny and introspective.

We had a blast the last time. We colored mandalas, listened to new and old music and watched a crap load of Disney movies on Netflix. I got paid $100 for the two days of child watching. That's pretty amazing, if you ask me.

The last time I babysat Nicole I promised that next time around we would watch Matilda and make cupcakes.


She mentioned to once that she isn't much of a reader which almost crushed my nerd heart beyond repair. At nine I was so in to reading that I can't remember a time when I didn't have a book in my hand. My mom, brother and I spent more time at the library than any other place. We even had designated reading time. When we would all camp out in the living room with our respective books, reading until the hour was up.



But then again, we didn't that many distraction in the 90's either. No Internet, few video games and I don't even think a cellphone seemed possible back then. So when she said she didn't like to read, I sort of got all 'but why, it's so awesome. I mean, it's not an Ipod or anything but reading takes you places man"



But she said 'nothing really interest her' in books and that 'reading is hard'. The nerd in me started talking about all the books I read as a kid and how much fun my friends and I had talking about the ones we finished(a white lie). That yeah, some books are hard to read but it's because they are meant to challenge you. I sounded all too much like a book nerd but reading is awesome folks, kids need to know this.

She seemed a little intrigued by my excitement and asked"what kind of books" are interesting to read.

"you know, books like, that...."


But I got tripped up. I was about to mention the last book that I read the one about a dead teenager in some small new england town and the cover up the town folks are involved in. But then I remembered she's only nine and I'm 25 and the last children's or teen book I read was "the world we knew" which I really wasn't that interested in to be honest about.

So I said:

"you know the one about that.... girl who name is Matilda...and her mind powers something or another.'

I don't know why this Roald Dahl book flew out of my mouth. I love the movie Matilda but do not remember reading the story as a kid. I may have taken the short route and just watched the movie instead. I think I may have down that with all the Roald Dahl books to be honest.

But my explanation was good enough because Nicole was all: 'Omg! Can we watch Matilda the next time we hang out. Please. Please. Oh, and then we can read the book and stuff'. What was I going say? no.

So, with Tuesday just around the corner I had Netflix send me a copy of Matilda and bought cupcake making goodies prepared for our nerd day of Roald Dahl and sweets.

But at the last minute, landlady asked if I would mind watching Nicole and her friend, Julia. She apologized for the short notice but knew that I could handle watching both girls after my success the last time. I agreed, because it was the night before, but quickly wondered if two pre-teens would be interested in a nerd day.

The answer is no.

A already jaded and tough, Julia, spent the first hour giving me the stank eye while we waited for Nicole to wake up. I tried to engage her in 'so how's it going' pleasantries but she was having none of it and I quickly felt like the uncool older person trying to make someone like her. I knew that until I was deemed worthy by Nicole, I would be given the stank eye all day.

When Nicole finally woke up, I feed them breakfast and listen to them both explain to me what the word 'shit' meant. You know just encase I didn't know.

It was then that I knew my cupcake making, Matilda watching plans were not going to work. I needed to tire out these kids quickly to make the day go by faster. They spent most of the morning wanting to watch Piranha 3D on youtube. When I asked 'don't you think that movie is a little scary for you guys' they admitted they'd already seen most of it but wanted to show me the gory parts.


So we watched a version dubbed in Dutch, while I reminded them that the piranhas in the movie weren't real and that Adam Scott and Jerry O'Connell should not be refer to as 'those old guys' in the movie.


They then asked questions like 'why do boys like boobs' and went through my cell phone asking if "matt, josh' and every other male name in my phone were boyfriends of mine.

I quickly decided that I needed to get this kids away from my phone, out of the house and far from any and all youtube videos featuring Piranhas' (and references to people my age as old).


So I took them to the movies with the food money landlady left to order pizza. They'd already seen Rio (le sigh. i wanted to see it) so Soul Surfer was our only option. They were actually very excited about this film and it made me remember how impressionable pre-teens are when it comes to films targeted to their age.

While I was rolling my eyes at the sheer cheesy of the movie (yes, I know Bethany Hamilton gets her arm torn off by shark, overcomes tragedy and accomplishes her dream of being a pro surfer. But the movie was a scene away from a Hallmark picture and there were so many God references I was uncomfortable) the girls were glued to the movie.

There are several scenes where you know the produces were like 'we want people to cry....now". At one point as I was suppressing laughter at a truly corny scene, I turn to see that Nicole is crying. Bawling actually. She is rubbing her eyes and breathing deeply and I thought she was choking on the popcorn. But no she was simply 'overcome' by this terrible terrible movie (with Helen Hunt and Dennis Quaid looking hella old).

At this point I check to make sure Julia is alright only to see that she too is consumed with tears.
When I asked them what's wrong they both say that the movie is 'so inspirational they want to be a one armed surfer too'.

I shit you not!!!

After the movie, I dragged both red faced children from the theater and ask them what the wanted to do next. There response.

'Man that shark was scary. Can we watch the movie Jaws when we get home. I hear the shark in that movie is scarier".

Yes folks. After being traumatized by killer piranhas, a shark who tears a girls arm off (a scene in the movie that made me jump) they both begged me to watch Jaws. Begged me. And because I freaking love that movie I said:

Alright, but the moment you two freak out we are turning off the movie and watching Disney.

So we head back home and I allow them to watch the first 15 minutes and last 20 minutes of Jaws. I didn't see the harm in it, until both recoiled in terror as the shark nearly eats poor Richard Dreyfus.

I got up once, during the boat shark scene, to go to the bathroom and they gave me the 'hey where are you going, you aren't going to like leave us during the movie are you' stare. So i stayed.


If these kids aren't traumatized by Tuesday they must have hearts of steel. It was a ocean infused day of monsters and missing limbs. I had to leave soon after the moms came (to meet up with some people at work) but I did hear both exclaim that I was the best babysitter ever and that they wanted to do the day all over again.

Good Job, Beckett. Good Job.

Next time I think I'll stick to Roald Dahl and popcorn. Lesson learned.

This week has been long and stressful. I feel all over the place and disconnected from everyone and everything. I was suppose to turn in that reader response last week but only did so today after staying up until 3am to write a two page response.I've never felt such ambivalence for a book before and found nothing exciting at all to say.

The bookstore drudgery continues and our crew is getting smaller than ever. ANDI may have inadvertently pissed of Dan, hot new manager, to some degree that has caused uneasy tension between us.

The only highlight of the week was that I finally saw Scream 4 and geeked out big time when Neve Campbell appeared on the screen.

But everything else remains the same. I applied to handful of jobs this week and am near my desperation point. Everyone around me is applying to graduate school programs because they too cannot find a job in this economy. And it is making me uneasy about my own decision to not pursue school, for now.

I'm just not sure if I want to go to grad school or what I would actually get a degree in because I'm not really sure what I want to do. Graduate school is not an option right now especially because the thought of having any more student loans gives me so much anxiety that I'd rather focus my energy of getting a job. Any job at this point.



I simply need more money and better prospect and those thoughts alone have worn me down.

In other news, I have finally attached a link to Grilled Cheese on the side though.



Because a lot of people from my job, and potential employers, have access to that journal I ask that if you do visit, please don't make any references to Everything Was. I'd like the keep these two spheres as separate as possible and the thought of people from my job accessing my inner thoughts here is mortifying.

Outside of that feel free to visit and say hi. My username is Just_A_Girl (for commenting purposes) and entries are all book, movies and television related. So far I only have a few posts up (both in regards to Scream 4) but I'll provide some more random pop culture entries every week or so.

Now time for sleep. I have Saturday off and can't wait for it to get here already. This week has been the longest and I could use a break away from things.

~Beckett.

Longest Day.

Babysitting. Scream 4. Reading a 400 page manuscript. Eat. Sleep.

What have I gotten myself into. I some how managed to plan every possible excursion on the same day.

I am patiently waiting on the landlady's daughter to wake up so she can entertain her friend, who i am also babysitting. So far the other girl and I have said all but three words to each other, and because I have this general belief that kids will warm up to you when they won't I have stayed in the kitchen to avoid forced conversation.


I know, I'm like the best babysitter ever.

I planned a day of watching movies and baking cupcakes but with two kids to watch that doesn't seem like the smartest idea. Instead, if the sleeping kid every wakes up: maybe i should check on her, I might take them to the movies. It will kill 2 hours and I can possibly take a nap in the theater. I'll set my phone on vibrate or something and then jolt up towards the end of the movie.

And because Tuesdays are $6 dollars a flick day at the theater I will see Scream 4. Did I mention that I have yet to even make a dent in the manuscript I agreed to read. Oh, I looked at it. I scanned quickly but I have no interest in finishing the thing. It's all kinds of blah, the pacing slow and it has to do with a graduate student finishing up school. I can't even come up with a bad or positive thing to say about it. I am ambivalent.

I really should go upstairs and see if Nicole is okay. I know kids sleep in late but it's like 10:16 and the other child is minutes away from booking. I can tell. I would be mortified if she was like 'can i go home now, Nicole's not coming and you've been on your computer all morning'.

Dear god let me survive this. I feel like the day is going to shit and it's only just begun.

You Can't Freak Out Now Gurl.

Memba' Debbie Downer? My boss from the library and really good friend while I was a student at USC.

Well turns out she has a writing gig for me that I am a bit scared yet excited about. Let me explain.

Yesterday I officially launched Grilled Cheese. I use the word launch very loosely. It's not really a professional website, it's just my 'i really need to have a web page featuring clips for potential employees to access:so that they know i don't suck as a writer and hire me for a gosh darn job already'.

Because I don't have any legit writing samples as a 'professional writer' creating a web page with blog posts I could use for clips seemed....like the perfect solution. Because lets be honest, I am a horrible at networking and selling myself (not in the Pretty Woman sort of way) and providing samples of my writer will be useful as I try to start some sort of career.

The fact that I am horrible with this whole networking thing is probably why finding a job has been damn near impossible. As an introverted person, I rarely like putting myself out there. I hate having to sell who I am and what I'm good at. I am not at all competitive in the 'look I'm way better than this person' game. I'd rather just fade into the back, remain a quiet observe and relish in the silence.

For some reason I have always associated 'networking' with sucking up.I mean I understand the importance of it, I do. But I can't get past my apprehensions that networking involves bugging someone into liking you.

There is this one customer who comes into the store every time we have a big author event. He is a college student who attends the hipster college near by and spends the bulk of his nights at the store with his friend drinking lattes in the fiction aisle (and leaving the cups on the shelves like a asshat).

Any time a relatively famous author/media personality visits the store he makes sure to be in attendance. He has a business card and everything (i saw him hand one out to the NBC new anchor who stopped by a few months ago) and because I usually end up working the events I tend to watch him act all cheesy when he gets his book signed; making sure to throw his name out there along with his interest in pursuing a career in broadcast media to whoever is visiting.

His approach is probably very effective. Not probably, it is what some would ambitious.That kid will make it...trust me. Even though I loathe the sight of him in the store, I know that kids like him always make it (somewhere)because they are not embarrassed about being pushy and in your face.When he graduates college he will have more contacts than I do now. I know this for a fact.

But to me he is the epitome of a brown-noser. His approach is feels tactless and (even) pushy. And the odd things is, I know that my statement is false. I know that networking is the smartest thing a person could do. Especially for someone like me who wants to join a creative field. Especially in this economy. But for some reason I have never been able to disassociate the two and I am terrified at the thought of having to do so in order to have a career.

This Grilled Cheese thing is my feeble attempt at networking. A small creative venture that hopefully will prove to someone, outside of my mom, that I am passionate about writing. Or at least that I have a strong storytelling ability

I've mentioned the webpage at work some, especially to those who have questioned my ability to even formulate a sentence. But pursuing this writing portfolio seems daunting. I was actually very nervous about creating Grilled Cheese and putting my work out there.

Writing journal entries about my everyday life is easy. Sharing my thoughts and feelings and obsessive thoughts to whoever all of you here is....cathartic. Trying to create a blog that solely represents my voice as a 'writer' is terrifying and stressful. Trying to convey a sense of voice and identity without talking about Mcabs or Le Sad Store seems so impersonal I don't know if the things I write there will read...honest.

I intend to link Grilled Cheese to my resume, as a lot of people in the creative industry are social networking whores, but I feel anxious and guilty for wanting the work I create on Grilled Cheese...to be good.

So far I've generated a few views to my site. A couple of 'isn't that nice beckett started a little blog' from my employees and dare I say one questionable 'a writing website-like anyone is going to read it' comment from a sort of friend.

However Debbie Downer was ecstatic about this venture. She has been nothing but positive since my big reveal. She sent me an email and everything when I made the announcement a few days ago. And she has officially joined the small cheering squad that has accumulated on my side.

I posted my first 'welcome to my site' entry yesterday and was relieved that at least the awkward introduction is out of the way. Now I can solely write reviews, critiques and other professional writing clips and started padding up a virtual portfolio.

Of course, Debbie Downer congratulated me on my first 'piece' and then added that she may have a writing opportunity for me if I was interested(hell yes) in response to my creative mojo.

Debbie Downer has been an artist for years outside of working at the library of my Alma Mater. She mainly draws sketches, paints larger pieces and creates figurines out of clay.While she has shown me some of her creations in the past, I did not know the extent of her craft until recently.

A few weeks ago she got in touch with a friend who owns a gallery in downtown Columbia. Said friend and owner is interested in displaying some of her art work in the gallery this summer.It would be a small show featuring a bunch of other works by local artists. It's a huge opportunity nonetheless and she asked me if I could supply a small poem (or prose) to be attached to her drawings. A story to weave the images together in a poetic way. I will be given 50% of anything that sells at the gallery.

AND she wants also to eventually turn the project into a book published by a small publishing house nearby. I'm freaking out ya'll.

This is great and grand on some many levels. She sent me links to some of her current work and the drawings are amazing. Gothic, Celtic, quirky images of men and women on the outskirts of society. Freaks and Mystical beings draped in Victorian outfits and even a mask or two. I am totally amazed that she would even consider me for the project yet alone share half the profits from it.

Of course, I jumped on to the project as soon as I finished her email. And we have chatted back and forth about the collboration.

But now of course doubt fills my body and and i am petrified by having this writing opportunity. While we are a long way from showing her work in that gallery, I am concerned that perhaps my words won't do her art justice. While the images are hers the world I create for them is all my own. She has given me complete artistic range...and I am scared that I am not prepared for this. That in some way I cannot create anything worth being seen outside of my head.

I am suddenly inundated with writing/reading projects. Though all small, they have overwhelmed me in some way. The guy from work who questioned my 'web page' actually asked me a couple of weeks ago to help him set up an etsy shop. He sells steam-punk jewelery and wants me to write the description for things he will sell soon. I generally like the pieces he has brought to work and agreed to write up descriptions for him (as that too is a possible means of income. anything will help at this point).

Along with that, I took this freaking no pay reader position ( i read manuscripts and then compose reader responses for them) with the literary agency that did not hire me.While unpaid it will look good on my resume, but it also means that my days off are sometimes spent reading incredibly dull manuscripts.

And NOW along with Grilled Cheese; where I have to restrain myself from writing about....well...myself, I have (though honestly I want) to create a story and subsequent words for Debbie's creations.

While I am excited about all of these ventures, I am worried that I cannot live up to my potential. That like every aspect of my life, my feelings of inadequacies (though unfounded) will stunt me and limit my contribution to any of these projects; even the ones that mean the most to me.

It's anxiety, I know this. But the pervasive thoughts along with my other anxieties about money and loans have kept me up at night. And I'm freaking out that I can't handle what I want because I'm so use to not feeling like I deserve any of it.

Silly, I know.