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All your hopes and dreams personified
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| For posterity's sake |
[12 Jul 2009|04:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 proud |
] |
My little brother is a man. He's a father and a husband.
I cried. It's what I do. I was just so proud of him and happy for him!
The reception was great. I didn't get drunk like I wanted to, but it was probably best that way. I sassed Aunt Marci, which felt lovely.
Lucy caught the bouquet. The boys made Poop catch the garter. Hilarity ensued.
Mom had said earlier in the day, "Oh, I don't think I'll cry that much..." I bet her $20 she would. She owes me $20.
Their first dance was "Always" by Frank Sinatra. (This isn't the version that they danced to, but at least you can hear how beautiful it is and why I freakin' cried AGAIN.) The DJ screwed up and played a swing dance version, which the kids laughed about and gamely danced to. Then the DJ played the slower, prettier version that they had wanted, and he invited everyone to dance with them, which was really beautiful. I asked Pop-Pop if he would dance with me because, well, he looked like he was missing Gma, and I was missing Gma, so it was really nice. "I can't dance, though!" he said. I told him that I didn't care; he was doing a great job. Marci cried. I'm tearing up now, so I've gotta turn this damn video off. Hold on...okay.
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet. Steve got drunk and later thanked me--at five in the damn morning--for not getting mad at him for drinking. I told him it would be pretty hypocritical of me if I did. ;)
A beautiful, quick ceremony. A fun, loving reception. A nice brunch at the Elliotts' this morning, and the kids are off to Jamaica for a week tomorrow.
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[04 Jul 2009|11:00am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 nostalgic |
] |
I find it weird and I guess a little sad that I don't update my LJ or my handwritten diary as much as I used to. I just...I don't know, I guess I don't have as much to say. I'm not as angsty or as dreamy as I used to be. I don't get as fucked up as I used to in college.
**Confidential to Matisse: Your text made me smile a lot. I hope no one cut off your toes!**
Still, I miss writing in a diary. I miss writing. I picked up two of Loyola's literary journals that were lying around in a lobby in Maryland Hall, and I've been sporadically reading them. Some of the poetry is very good, and some is melodramatic, art school angst. (So...what you'd expect. *wink*) I just feel...uninspired lately. A lot of my creative energies are being channeled into photography, which is great, as it's a medium I've always wanted to do more with, but...there's something so cathartic about writing and using metaphors in such a way that people know exactly what you're talking about. I'm an actor; I love words. I miss my words.
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| Trailers for Sale or Rent, Rooms to Let 50 Cents... |
[13 Jun 2009|09:58am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 happy |
] |
It's really nice out, which is brilliant, because if my friggin' power went out one more time because a tree in Loch Raven went down on the power lines, I was going to get slightly crankier than usual. ;)
Should I get a Twitter? I've already decided that if I do, I'm not actually going to update with *real* statuses, just shit that'll probably get me in trouble with the Feds:
- "Look, I don't KNOW where all the frozen OJ came from! Don't you have anything better to do @fbitwitter?!"
- "If he had just gotten out of the way, then GBMC wouldn't have had to pull that mop out of his rectum."
- "Have panda meat. Nice Gucci bag. You know the number."
I think I'd call my Twitter "@straightuplies". Would that work? I don't really know anything about Twitter other than it's annoying, and I kinda want in.
Start the new job on Monday. I'm excited and nervous all at once, which is pretty typical, I suppose. My last day up in Sparks was very nice. One of the IT guys has a new job elsewhere, so they got pizza and cake for him, and when Millie (the IT admin) called me over for a slice, she told everyone it was MY last day too, and then the IT guy and I had to make mini speeches. I just told them where I was working come Monday and that I was happy to work someplace where I wouldn't have to wear a scarf in June. ;) It was nice. Boring day, as usual, but when I went outside and drove home in all that sunlight and perfect, huge clouds, well, I just sang all the way home. (Happiness is a fully-charged iPod and a working faux iTrip.)
Now the possibilities for today are stretching out before me like a lazy kitteh, and even though I woke up significantly earlier than I had wanted (8am as opposed to closer to 10am), I am still feeling fine. :)
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| I wish I could sleep in on the weekends again |
[07 Jun 2009|09:04am] |
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mood |
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 satisfied |
] |
I love a good non-sequitor subject heading.
I had a lovely time at Eric & Angie's wedding last night and didn't get drunk, although with the amount of energy I threw into my dancing, I'm sure that most of the people there thought I was trashed. Nope. I just enjoy doing the Twist. ;D As Dave Chappelle pointed out, it's the only dance us White People really know how to do well. I took a bunch of photos, which I'm going through now to edit and later post on FB. I'm kinda cranky at myself and my new camera; my old one (which, after being dropped over and over, admittedly) had multiple settings for multiple occasions--behind glass, food, fireworks, low light, too much light, sports (moving object) setting, etc. This new camera is deceptively simple. I say "deceptively" because I haven't actually read the manual for it (like an asshole), so I'm not sure if such specific settings exist somewhere other than the turn-dial on the back. On this new camera, I have landscape (focus on shit far away), close-up (focus on shit closer to you), twilight (it's dark, so you have to use flash), and maybe one or two other specific settings before you go into the "easy" mode where the camera thinks about what you want it to do and kinda goes from there. This would be fine for someone like my mom, who just points a camera at people and takes pictures, but there were some shots last night that I really wanted to get but couldn't figure out what damn setting to put the camera on, so now I'm worried that they're lost forever. I suppose that if I ever really want to take myself seriously as a photographer (and considering that I have two photographs showing at an upcoming exhibit at Irvine Nature Center and that I'm going to be trying to sell my photo prints at the Annapolis First Sundays Art Festival starting in July, I probably *should* start taking myself seriously as a photographic artist), I'm going to have to get a "real" camera, or at least a real digital camera, and learn how to us it. Oh, someday, when I have money. :P
WHY didn't anyone tell me I have a snaggletooth?! *sigh* Fuck me, I can't wait to get benefits and get a dentist.
Oh, on the new-job front, my supervisor at my current job told me that HR there was under the impression that my last day was this Friday, June 12th. I told him that I had thought my last day was going to be the 16th, because he had asked me to stay a few days past two weeks to make sure that they would have time to train my replacement. He said that HR still hadn't approved the request to hire my replacement yet, and with as slowly as they're moving, an extra two days on my part wouldn't matter much, because they probably won't have anyone new in by next week. He asked how the instructional notes for updating the innercompany phone book were, and I told him that I had planned on redoing them because they were painfully sparse and disjointed. He said to make them specific because no one in the office other than the operator knows how to work the phone book editing program, himself included. So while I got half a page typed of notes and the other half a page of random, semi-useless hand-written notes plus a fairly quick tutorial from the Operator before me, my replacement will get three pages of highly-detailed, typed notes on the entire process, from getting the request to add/delete a phone number all the way through saving the new phone book on a floppy disk. Yes, a *floppy disk*. I still have to type up notes on how to use the phone book, answer the phone, and fill in the time cards for the temp agency and for the company. This is the third job where I've had to type up and instruction manual for my position (Cloud 9 and the spring factory being the other two jobs), and I have to say that I'm really good at it. I've been praised for my attention to detail and how easy it is to follow my instructions. So go me. I hope the next person they hire for the Operator position isn't as desperate for a paycheck and as grossly overqualified for the job as I am. It's a lonely, boring position, and frankly, I'm stoked that I won't have to stay there for six months.
STILL trying to get the apartment together. Steve and I brought his drum kit home from the sketchtastic rehearsal space in West Baltimore where it had been living, so we'll have to get it all set up down there. There's lots of other things that need to make it to the basement, and lots of other things that we need to do before the big apartment warming party. I have the kitchen and the bedroom completely under control and clean and organized (what a good little Italian woman I am, prioritizing correctly), and the bathroom is also pretty much there, but it could use a good Swiffering. Unless someone else wants to make them for me, we won't be getting curtains until after the kids' wedding (which is fast approaching!!) because Mom is making Mia's flower girl outfit, and "Mia comes first!" as she said. The blinds work well enough except on weekends, when the sun comes filtering into my bedroom far earlier than I would like.
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| Exciting news! (Or, if you're a Professor Huebert fan, "Good news, everyone!") |
[29 May 2009|08:53pm] |
I have a new job!!!!!
I was offered a position as the Administrative Assistant for the Dean of First-Year Students at Loyola College (soon to be Loyola University). My first day will be June 16th (theoretically; it might be sooner). The salary is slightly less than I'm making now, as they're in a salary freeze, but I get full health benefits and after working there for a year, I'm eligible for full tuition remission, minus the costs of fees and books. And I'll actually have stuff to do!! As opposed to just dicking around on the internet all day and Gchatting with Lucy and Ashleigh. ;) I gave my notice today, and they asked me to give a couple days past the standard two weeks, just to make sure they have enough time to fill the position and get me to train them. My boss Doug said that he's glad I'm getting something better, and if they can get a new person in sooner so they can let me leave on the 12th, then that's what they'll do.
Second good news:
We are almost totally done moving in. There's still some random things at the apartment to take over, and we have to move all of Steve's fish. There's stuff we're trying to get rid of on Craigslist, although we have given away/sold a decent amount of it. People from the Internet are sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo weird. Thank you, Captain Obvious, I know. ;) The last things to do are to clean the place up and do the walk-thru with management early next week. I don't expect any of my safety deposit back, and if by some miracle, we do get some back, it'll go towards my bills or into our vacation fund. (We're trying to go to Colorado in August, but airfare is a little pricey.)
The new place is almost totally together. There's still lots of things in boxes, and we haven't hung anything on the walls. (All of our screws/nails are still in the walls at the old apartment!) There's things that need to get moved to the basement, and there's a LOT of laundry that needs to be washed/put away. It's a little bare, and there's a lot of aesthetic things that need to be taken care of (new couch cushions, OMG!!), but it's a good little home. :) There's some drama with the rental agency/landlords that I won't go into, but Kaye and Larry (the landlords) are really nice, so I'm sure it'll all get worked out. Kaye is very creative (you should see her living room! It should be in a magazine!!), and Larry...Larry is a 70-year-old version of my dad. They are good friends. It's adorable.
My parents are currently drunk texting me from the ballgame. The O's are (miraculously) up, thanks to a grand slam by Luke Scott. HE JUST HIT ANOTHER ONE!!!! LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKEEEE!!
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| It's dark outside and in...which is more emo-sounding that I mean it to be |
[17 May 2009|09:15am] |
| [ |
mood |
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awake |
] |
I'd like to go to the farmer's market, but I don't have anyone to go with. And I probably shouldn't be spending money on things like delicious curry pockets and fresh mozzarella. I should be saving that money to pay the pro rate on the new apartment or save it for all those bills coming due in a couple of weeks. But I want to take photos and see Johno's mural and EAT CURRY POCKETS, so I might go anyway.
Man, my job is frustrating, but I'm tired of bitching about it. I get some really great overheards from the IT guys (three submitted today, finally), and I get a lot of reading done, so I'll try to focus on those positives (and the fact that it's the best, most pleasant commute I've ever had) until something better comes along. The interview at Loyola College (soon to be University) went pretty well I think. It only pays $30k/yr, which is less than I'm making now, but the benefits are great, even though I'd have to stay a year to get FULL tuition remission; all I'd have to pay are fees and books. I could get a business degree or my teacher certification! For FREE! But not getting paid that much money worries me a little bit b/c I still REALLY NEED to get a new car. Randall's at 161,300-some miles, and the brakes are still shitty, and there's no AC still, so I'm sweating through my clothes again (not so fun when you're on your way to an interview), and I really don't think it's unreasonable to want a new car, considering the one I'm currently driving is a deathtrap.
I'm off my nortryptilene, ps, for reals and forever, I think. I weaned myself off for a week and a half and then said "fuck it" and threw out the rest. I haven't had a sex drive in fuck-all only knows how long, and what's the point of taking a medicine that's supposed to make it easier for me to have sex if I NEVER WANT TO HAVE SEX?! Plus, I can't afford it without insurance. I'm going to Walgreens today to see how much my birth control costs w/out insurance, and if I can't afford it, then I'm just gonna have to suck it up and go to Planned Parenthood and see if it's any more affordable there. If I'm gonna be bonin' as much as I'd like to, then I want to make damn certain that Mia won't be getting a little (aborted) cousin anytime soon. Condoms break, kids, and yes, Adri and her sisters are living proof that birth control--even the best kind--can fail (and how! just kidding!!), but I feel more confident forcing my uterus into some sort of control rather than giving it free reign and taking my chances that I bought a reliable batch of Trojans. Plus...*giggles* fucking with condoms is SO high school! ;D Ah, the beauty of a long-term, monogamous relationship.
I need to drop some pounds, fast. None of my shorts fit, and that is depressing in ways I can't articulate for fear of the rant devolving into SOMETHING ALL IN CAPS OH EM GEE WHY AM I SUCH A FATTY FATTY TWO BY FOUR?!, and that's also SO high school. Back to the gym and maybe even Goucher's sauna to sweat off all my water weight. At this point, I'll live with looking like a Hershey's Kiss in my bridesmaid dress if I can just fit into my clothes from last year comfortably. Shorts shopping when you're 5'3" is difficult and depressing. (Although fun with Karen--I just hold the shorts up to her to see where they're *supposed* to hang to.)
All right, time to check Southwest for some cheap-to-fly-to locations and then texting bitches awake to see if they'd be down with getting some curry pockets.
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| The Cat-Owning Experiment has Come to a Close |
[01 May 2009|10:26am] |
| [ |
mood |
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relieved |
] |
Steve and I gave away Snoop and Flava Flav last night to a young woman named Brittany, who hails from Carroll County but lives in Windsor Mill and has owned cats her whole life. This is her first time living on her own, and she wanted some kitties to keep her company.
For the first time in a looooong time, I can go to the bathroom without tiny, black paws reaching under the door, imploring me to let them in. We can leave the door to the fish room open without worrying about the mess little kittens would make in there. We can sleep with our bedroom door open and not have to get angry at being woken up in the middle of the night by cats running over top of us, and we won't be woken up far too early in the morning by a loud thumping at the door followed by a pitiful MEOOOOOOW!!! We can go to bed and wake up the next morning with all of our papers still on the dining room table, without Steve's computer magically turned on, and with full glasses of water still sitting, unspilled, on the coffee table. Once we finally throw out the litter box and clean the bathroom, I will no longer have to walk into an apartment that reeks overwhelmingly of ammonia and cat shit. (Since Steve's sense of smell is stunted, I'm usually the only one bothered by the odor.) My carpet will remain intact (well, more so than it is now). I will no longer trip over cat toys in the dark. After I give the furniture a good cleaning, it will no longer smell like the dirty bums of kitties who never learned how to groom themselves properly. There will be no sharp kitten claws digging into my flesh and drawing blood. Things will return to something resembling normalcy.
Now, on the other hand, there won't be any adorable kitten purrs or snuggles on my lap or soft fur to pet when I'm stressed. But, that's why God invented dogs (in His own mirror image). We won't be able to get a dog until we move out of the new apt or until their dog meets its Maker again, as the animal is really territorial, but that's okay. I can wait. In the meantime, there's always Brandi, the only animal that will ever truly have all of my love. <3
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| A very nice thing happened in the Giant tonight... |
[08 Apr 2009|07:52pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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grateful |
] |
I was at the Giant on York Road, holding up the line b/c I had grabbed the wrong size boxes of Cinnamon Life (which makes life worth living). As I was quickly walking back to my line, I saw a familiar face. "Oh, did you choose the wrong size box...wait, you're Nikki Cimino!!" It was my middle school English teacher Mrs. Kreipl! She ranted and raved about how "good" I looked (which I took to mean "taller and less awkward-looking). I told her a little bit about my life--over two years with a good man, my brother has a baby and is getting married, I lost a job and got a new job, I do a lot of community theatre. She asked if I "continued" my education, and I told her that I went to Goucher, which made her pleased as punch. She told me that she was still teaching, which I was thrilled about, but she said, you know, it gets harder as you get older. (She's probably, gosh, in her late 50s?)
Then, finally, I got to tell her something I had been wanting to say since my first day at Mercy: "Thank you for being such an excellent teacher. Because of you, I am an excellent writer." She got all ferklempt, and I assured her that I wasn't just saying that; I got writing proficiency my first semester at Goucher, and every teacher I've had has commented positively on my excellent writing skills. She told me that she still talks about me to her classes, about how I used to write questions in the margins on my tests and papers and how I always wanted to know more, how I "aced" every test.
We parted ways with a big hug, me juggling my dozens of groceries, sans plastic bag (she also instilled in me my hippie love of recycling and reusing and being Green when I can), and I just...I felt so good knowing that I finally got to thank her for being such an excellent teacher. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but she really was the foundation upon which I built my love for reading and language. She gave me my first "grown-up" book--Marjorie Morningstar, which I have read and reread at least five times and which is still my favorite book above all others. My copy, which used to be her copy and even has a note in it from her, is held together with duct tape.
I'm glad, in a way, that we haven't seen each other since I graduated from middle school. I'm glad that I was able to play out my academic life and really think about who helped me become the person I am. Because so much time has passed, I'm able to better appreciate her contribution. It was so...cathartic...to be able to tell her so. :)
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| Something I was pondering...possibly not coherently |
[02 Apr 2009|07:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
contemplative |
] |
Steve and I were talking last night while lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come. Usually (and last night was no exception) it's me talking and Steve mumbling/grunting/occasionally reaching coherency, as it always takes me a while to "wind down" at night. I was telling him about my mom's reaction to the news that I had gotten the job up in Sparks (see FB for more details).
When I told Mom that I had finally gotten a job, after these very intense two and a half months of searching, she told me that her prayers had been answered. My parents and family are big on the praying, and they're big on lighting candles for me at church. Only God knows how many candles have been lit on my behalf between my parents and my Gma, rest her soul.
"I kinda wanted to tell her, 'No, I got the job on my own merit! My skills and experience and general awesomeness got me this job, not God or Jesus,' but I know she didn't mean it like that." Steve said that if someone had reacted that way to his news of good fortune, he would be offended and a little ticked off. I told him that I kinda was, a little bit, but not really because that's just my mom's version of "wishing good things for" me. Like, if I have a sick friend, I'll think good thoughts for them and hope that they get better. Plus, I'm superstitious enough that I'll take any help I can get, even if I'm dubious about the reality of divinity.
So then I got to thinking...praying to God is my mom's way of helping me out. I'm 25 years old. She can't march up and down the Internet yelling at people to hire me and threatening them if they don't. She's been at the same job for 30 years; she doesn't really have any connections outside of her place of business that she can pass on to me. Mom can't give me a new car or a new apartment or nicer neighbors. She can't make the kitties stop being bad or the weather get nicer. She can't really take care of me that much anymore, not like she used to when I was little. So she prays. She prays her heart out. Mom has periods of insomnia when she lies in bed and thinks of all the terrible things that could go wrong in her life and in her family's lives. And in order to grab some control over the uncontrollable, Mom prays. Then, if/when something good does happen, she can feel like she had some part in that good thing happening. She helped make her child's/family member's life better.
Don't know if that all makes sense. I'm currently surrounded by a cloud of cat-ass smellingness. Seriously. Every surface smells like my cats' asses. I can't take it anymore. I know I've said it before, but I'm about to move into a smaller, nicer apartment. I'm not letting some stray cats from West Baltimore ruin it for me.
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| 5-year anniversary |
[22 Mar 2009|10:48pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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thoughtful |
] |
For the first time in five years, there is not a yellow ribbon tied around the tree outside of Tuttle House on Goucher's campus on March 22rd. I never really heard what people thought about the ribbons/flowers that show up there on this day every year. I always imagined that Goucher security took them down relatively soon after they went up (or after they were discovered, as they usually didn't appear until late at night on the 22nd) and that most people didn't even know why they were there in the first place. Five years later, I'm certain that, with the possible exception of some faculty members, no one on campus could put two and two together and realize what the yellow ribbon was memorializing.
5 years ago today, my friend Tom hung himself from that tree. I didn't even know Tom that well, although I do have several very happy, fond memories of him, mainly from the radio show we all did together. Yet his death touched me a lot more deeply than, I suppose, it would have touched another person with the same type of relationship with Tom. For me, Tom became a kind of symbol (wrong word, but the only one I can think of right now) of a road that I could have gone down but luckily didn't.
It's no secret (as far as I know) that I was VERY depressed my last three years of college. (Hell, I was probably depressed my freshman year of college, but it didn't manifest itself as clearly until I combined alcohol with my depression.) I had had two half-hearted suicide attempts in my past already (the first when I was 11; to say middle school was hard for me is a gross understatement), and sophomore year, I was walking up Goucher's driveway one morning when I felt the urge to walk in front of a truck that was driving up behind me. I timed it out perfectly so that the driver wouldn't have time to react...but they turned left into Dorsey Center instead of driving straight up the loop circle. I stood there in the middle of the road and realized with horror that shit was a lot more fucked up for me than I had allowed myself to realize. I went to the health center later that day and was officially diagnosed with depression. Not too long after that, I began seeing a therapist and began the looooooooong road towards sanity. I'm not totally there, but I have to say, not being in college anymore (or being a teenager) has really helped even me out. I'm glad to report that I now have more good days than bad days, although I will still cry at the stupidest things (DAMN YOU, SCRUBS!), but that's just who I am.
Tom never got the chance to see if things would get better. He never had that "not hit by a truck" realization. He ended his life at the age of 19, not knowing that shit really can get better, especially the older you get and especially if you get help. Does it *always* get better? Fuck no. But it can.
I didn't tie the yellow ribbon (which is the color for teen suicide prevention (I don't know the color for *everyone* suicide prevention)) around the tree this year because five years is enough. As I said, no one on campus will remember Tom; no one knew him. The faculty might, but how often do faculty walk on the quad? The ribbon won't spark any dialogue about depression or teen suicide; most people will probably think the ribbon is for an American soldier off to war. *I* remember Tom, and I write the anniversary of his death into every new planner that I get. I know his friends remember Tom, and I'm sure the end of March is a shitty time for his close friends and his family.
So I'm letting Tom go, no more a symbol of what could have been. I had my wake-up call, I learned my lesson, and I managed to live through college and my early 20s despite a lot of drama and hard times and tears. Maybe Tom's been reincarnated and given the chance to do it over, do it right this time. Maybe he's up in Heaven, kickin' it with John Lennon and George Harrison (he was a HUGE Beatles fan) and havin' a grand time. Maybe he just...isn't anymore. Hopefully, he's at peace.
when i find myself in times of trouble, mother mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom "let it be, let it be"
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| There is extremely loud Mexican music coming from the apartment complex behind mine |
[11 Mar 2009|06:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
I like Latin music |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
some Hispanic person's radio |
] |
Got a call today from a woman at Jones Networking, a staffing agency in Baltimore. Scheduled an interview with her Friday at 4:30. Said I had a doctor's appt so I could leave work early. I REALLY hope that they actually have a position available for me, or else I won't sign up. I signed up with Today's and have received exactly jack shit from them since. There aren't ANY jobs for an administrative staffer on their site, other than one in Columbia that doesn't pay enough to warrant me driving to Columbia and back every damn day. JN's website had a couple of positions available that I qualified for, so I'll discuss that with the rep on Friday. Keep your fingers crossed that something comes outta this. I'm applying for at least five jobs a day (often more), but still receiving dick in return. To play the Understatement Game, I'm beginning to feel a little discouraged.
I've decided to give up trying to get a pay increase from the Rosedale job. I don't actually DO anything all day most of the time, so I don't really think I'm worth paying more. But since they won't pay me more, I'm not going out of my way to find things to do. Vicious circle, I know. Should a significantly better opportunity come through with Jones, I don't know if I should skip town on Rosedale or not. I only have a week and a half left (just a week come Friday), so hopefully whatever job Jones would find me would be able to wait until my contract runs out. I'll just tell my Kelly rep that I've found something else for the time being that pays more. *sigh*
In Randall news, I'm really adding the miles to the old odometer. I go from Towson to Rosedale in southeast Baltimore County, back to Towson, and then most days, I'm going over to Catonsville in southwest (or is it west?) Baltimore County for rehearsal. Then back to Towson again. My poor car just wants to die. You can tell. Well, f-bomb him. He needs to stay alive until I can get a Fit or a Civic. Then he can join the Purple Corsica in that Great Crazy Ray's in the Sky.
Steve's home, so I'm going to get something to eat and snuggle with him before I have to go to rehearsal. Snoop has worms again (whomp whomp), and City Paper didn't publish my letter to the editor blasting Larnell Custis Butler. They probably disliked the fact that I called her a bitch and said I'd start a petition asking CP to stop printing her letters. Fascists. :P
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| I dislike kittens |
[08 Mar 2009|10:56am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 tired |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
I rode the bus with 27 Jennifers! |
] |
Slept like utter shit last night. I was too hot. I decided to let the kittens try sleeping with us. It worked until about 4am or so when they thought that destroying my shit was the most constructive use of their time. I miss my dog. Dad suggested throwing the cats in a bag and drowning them in a river. If only it were that simple.
Since she's been back with us, Snoop (who I am renaming "Larnell Custis Butler" after the "Afrocentric feminist" letter writer in the City Paper) has been aggressive towards us and Flav. She rarely lets us pet her. She destroys everything. There will be little moments when she'll be friendly, but Steve and I both are starting to wonder if maybe we should have just let K from Craigslist put her back up there and get her another home. :( Flav is such a sweet, round, nondominant kitty; I think Snoop would be fine if she had an older cat around to kick the shit outta her every now and then. I'm not really sure what to do about all of this.
In non-feline news, I auditioned for Run of the Mill Theatre's "Variations" project yesterday. This year's theme is "Hope." I got there early and had to be let into the building by an artist who had a studio at Load of Fun. I hung around for a while with three of the directors, one of whom was Courtney from BSF's education dept. I answered a variety of questions and acted like I was some sort of professional who knew wtf I was talking about. A few other actors showed up to audition. My audition was scheduled for noon; I didn't get to audition until about 12:40 b/c they were waiting for a few more directors to show up, neither of which did. I thought I did my monologue pretty well. One of the directors asked me to do it again, but this time as fast as possible. I got flustered a couple of times and messed up, and once that happened, my damn mouth dried up completely. Have you ever tried doing an audition monologue at triple the speed it should be done with no saliva in your mouth? Yeah. Not fun. I answered a few more questions, then left. Next weekend, they're going to have informal readings of the plays, and the weekend after that (opening weekend for California Suite), they'll have their actors and plays chosen. So I guess now I just wait to see if I get contacted. :-/ I'd really like to be in another semi-collaborative piece, and if I were in this show, I'd have to be in multiple one-acts, so it'd be a nice challenge for me to memorize that many lines. I'd like to be challenged.
This afternoon is the Cockpit in Court audition at CCBC Essex. No monologue, just readings from the plays, which I'm infinitely better at doing. No matter how much I've prepared a monologue, I always seem to fuck it up once I'm in front of auditioning directors.
I want to talk to my friend Rob about possibly bringing the barter system back and having him take headshots for me in exchange for money and something else to be determined by him. Perhaps I could make him some baked goods? I could burn some DVDs of stuff that Steve's downloaded off the Internet? Life would be easier if I could just barter for the things I need, like headshots and a spa facial.
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| Despair |
[02 Mar 2009|12:40pm] |
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mood |
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 depressed |
] |
My "professional" Gmail inbox is empty except for an email from Julie, my Kelly rep, with new info for the HVAC job in Rosedale. I didn't go today because the parking lot here hasn't been plowed, and Randall doesn't do well in the snow. The driveway leading to work is STEEP, and I just had visions of my car careening and fish-tailing down into my boss's car. I'll probably call Daddy later and ask to borrow a snow shovel to dig Randall out for tomorrow. I can't afford to miss time from work, since I don't have paid holidays.
I'm sick as shit of applying for 10-12 jobs a day and not receiving ANYTHING in return. I left a voicemail with the woman from Learn-It Systems today, hoping to hear *something* about the admin job I applied for about three weeks ago. If I didn't get it, fine, whatever, but let me know so I can stop HOPING, you know? Fuckin' hope is the worst. I haven't heard anything from the drama summer camp in Columbia. I can't have either of the temp agencies I'm with try to find me something else until my time out in Rosedale is finished. I'll start as an assistant tomorrow; my only hope is that Julie will be able to renegotiate my contract for a few more bucks an hour since I'll be doing something other than answering phones. The HVAC people might want to keep me for longer than a week...but I don't know if I want to stay there for what little I know they'll pay me. I don't want to tap out my savings account, but I'm gonna have a fuck of a time paying my bills this month. And like I said, I can't get the temp agencies to find me anything new/more lucrative until I stop working in Rosedale. So, either I decline the extension in Rosedale and hope either Kelly or Today's finds me something better, or I stick with the Rosedale job and keep applying for jobs on Craigslist and CareerBuilder on my own.
Goddamn that French bastard! He couldn't just let me stay through the spring?! I was a good employee!! I went above and beyond my job description! I dealt with his bullshit! I was unfailingly polite to all of those froggy bastards who called in, despite not know what the FUCK they were saying because GOD FORBID you learn to speak English clearly once you purchase an English-speaking company!! And FUCK the people at MD DLLR!!! with their shit attitudes and unhelpful behavior. That's the other problem with staying in Rosedale: I'm making juuuust slightly too much money to collect unemployment, so I can't even supplement my income with it. So it's either make $340-$400 a week at work or barely $200 from the government. And I can't find my goddamed W2 from that fucking internet book company at worked at last year for a hot minute. It's somewhere in the piles of SHIT in the second bedroom, so I can't file my taxes and get any money back until I find it. And my luck, I made too much goddamned money last year to even get a decent return. Fuck, I bet my luck I'll owe a couple hundred to the state or the feds. A couple hundred that I don't have.
I've been trying to stay so fucking positive since I got fired. Look at the bright side. Keep applying for jobs and believing that something will come in. Keep believing that I'm a worthwhile employee with valuable skills that's worth at least $15/hr and full benefits. I know it's a shit economy, but COME ON!! Please God, please don't make me keeping doing shit for less than I made at the spring factory. Please God, don't make me have to go back to waitressing. I just can't. I can't, guys, I can't go back to that. I just don't have it in me anymore to be abused like that. To come home late smelling like beer and fried food, covered in a thin film of condiments and barbecue sauce. I know there's no shame in it, and once the play is over and I have more nighttime availability, I could do it just a couple of nights a week, but...I really just want a job that I'll at least be able to tolerate pleasantly for more than a year or a few months, always looking for something better. What if I missed my window to find something like that? We're in a time of No-Pickiness when it comes to jobs. Take what you can get and feel blessed that you have SOMETHING that can pay at least half of your bills.
I'm fading fast, people. This is starting to eat away at the good parts of my life and overshadow them. I don't know how much longer I can pretend that something good will come my way.
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| FINALLY |
[23 Feb 2009|04:23pm] |
i finally deleted every single entry that i kept in my diaryland diary over five years ('01 - '06). it kept coming up when people googled themselves, and honestly NO ONE (especially me, coz hey, why not) should be held accountable for their actions when they were a teenager. well, obviously, there are exceptions to that rule, but adolescence is such a fucked up time, and one's emotions are all over the place with nowhere to go. i kept that journal as a way to get out all my demons, all my hateful thoughts, all my jealousy, all my insecurities about my blossoming sex life and unrequited crushes/loves. i documented conversations i had with boys i liked, boys i loved, boys i fucked, and friends that i wasn't speaking with. i wrote down what i would say to people if only i had the guts. i wrote down about all the times i cheated on a boyfriend and all the times i wanted to. i described my desire to commit suicide and how i felt when those feelings in others directly affected me.
and in all my teen-angstness, it never occurred to me that someday, diaryland might fuck me over and make the whole thing public so that friends and former friends and former lovers could Google themselves and see everything early-millennium-me thought of them and our relationship. teenagers NEVER think about the long-term consequences of their actions because time is both infinite and short all at once. it's why many people (justly) hate teenagers.
it took me a full half an hour to delete everything. i skimmed a few of the entries, but i mostly deleted with a vengeance. that's nowhere near who i am anymore, and i'm certain that who my friends were back then is vastly different from who they are now. (except that lucy is still a slutbucket. that hasn't changed over the years.)
i don't know the immediate effects of this journal's deletion as far as google goes, but i'm glad to know that it is no longer out there to haunt me.
thank god lj won't randomly unlock all my earlier journal entries without letting me know. ;-P
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| I am being highly productive |
[23 Feb 2009|09:47am] |
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mood |
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 busy |
] |
Got a letter on Friday from Unemployment telling me that I HAVE to go to a two-day seminar to learn how to be effective in interviews, how to apply for jobs, and how to be unemployed-and-looking-for-work, basically. I called them today and asked to be exempt b/c I'll be working during one of my scheduled days. I'm out at the HVAC place in Rosedale again for the next two weeks. I'm signed up with another temp agency on top of Kelly Services. I've got an interview today with BSF about maybe working in the education dept., and I'm still waiting to hear back from Learn-It Solutions about interviewing with them. (I called on Friday, and the girl who did my phone interview said she turned my resume in "at the top of the pile" to her superiors, so I should hopefully be hearing from them soon.) I'm still applying for jobs I find on Craigslist and CareerBuilder, and I keep hoping that more will come back as real opportunities and not spyware-installing spambots.
I think I know how to be unemployed-and-looking-for-a-job pretty well, kthxbi.
I need more money, but in this economy, who doesn't?
Anyway, I've also put a call into the property management office to see about getting the blinds in the living room fixed and to try and find out when they'll FINALLY finish fixing up the storage units downstairs so I can move my crap out of the second bedroom. Honest to God, if I don't hear "within the next week," I'm calling Daddy to see if he can install a door on one of the units, and my shit's getting moved in ASAP. No point in paying for two bedrooms, when I can't use the second bedroom as a guest room/computer room b/c of all the crap we're storing in it. My goal is to have all this shit sorted, tossed, or stored properly by the time Spring rolls around. Steve and I need to stop being busy/lazy and just suck it up and do it already.
One of the main reasons why I need to clean this place out is b/c a lot of our important paperwork is living somewhere in a large pile of Christmas gifts that exists in the corner of this room. I need to find one more W2 (preferably today) so I can go to the tax guy, get my taxes done (and hopefully don't get fucked by the gov't in the process), and eventually, HOPEFULLY get a tax refund that will pay for things like rent and food and perhaps a new pair of sassy sandals from Payless the next time they have a BOGO sale. ;) I'm just really terrified that I made too much while working at CGI and that I'll OWE money, which would BLOW b/c I don't really HAVE any money to give the government right now. If I owe, I'm totally fucking paying with my unemployment money, no joke. Fuck them. They can just get their own money back. Not like I was using it for food or to fill Randall's tank or anything...*sigh*
Oh, finally, the Mia Monster turns 1 year old today. Steph's mom gave her a frame with a photo of Mia from each month of her first year so far. And Steph started crying that time had gone by so fast (!!), and of course, that got a lot of the women tearing up too b/c we're not robots, after all, and it was a touching moment, dammit. Mia's boogers were OUT OF CONTROL!! yesterday, and I got a little squeamish about it, so I guess you can add "uncomfortable with putting my immune system in such obvious peril by cleaning a baby's nose" to the list of reasons why I'll never have a baby.
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| I dislike waking up at 8am on a Saturday |
[15 Feb 2009|08:49am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 unnerved |
] |
Bad dream about Gma:
In the way that dreams have, it made perfect sense that Gma had both died and come back to life to lose the battle to cancer again. Marci and I were sitting in Gma's kitchen with her, and she was explaining to Marci how to put together this little, blue and red aluminum Christmas tree, saying it was very important to her. I kept asking Gma how I could help, what I could do to bring her peace of mind. She, very wearily, looked just past me and said, "Stop pretending you're in love. Stop fooling yourself. He'll only break your heart. Love is a waste of time--you spend so much of yourself on this other person, only to have them leave you."
I snapped. "Don't you think you broke my heart when you died? I was fucking traumatized! I still am!! I felt like I was being stabbed in the gut over and over for at least a year! I still get that way, but the pain is duller now. Are you saying that I shouldn't love *anybody* *ever* again?! THAT. IS. BULLSHIT!"
Marci was dumbfounded. I don't think my words had any effect on Gma. I grabbed my keys and stormed through the living room, my parents and Pop pissed and confused about my outburst. I hopped onto a bike and started peddling through the streets near her house. It started pouring down rain. I got off the bike and into Randall, who was waiting for me on a block occupied by houses in various stages of construction and remodeling. I drove off towards Taylor Avenue, my words still ringing in my ears and Gma's voice still haunting me.
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| Quick update before sleep |
[12 Feb 2009|10:59pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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optimistic |
] |
First of all, my apartment smells like cheap hamburger meat. Sorrow.
Second of all:
( Job Update Status Report Check! )
That's what's going on with me for now. I have one final day (tomorrow) at the gig in Rosedale. Everyone's very nice, but I'll be glad to be moving on. I had one of the employees get cranky with me because I didn't know if another employee had left for the day or not. After stuttering out an unsure-sounding answer (I was getting two employees mixed up as far as who was whom), he said, "Well, it sounds like you have everything under control up there" and hung up on me. I'm sorry, but for $10 an hour and for EIGHT DAYS, I'm not going to commit everyone's name and face to memory; there's just no point.
There was some frustration with the Unemployment Dept that some of you know about, but I'll have to write about it another time and make it a locked entry. There's no need to bash any former employers in a public forum if I can help it. ;P
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