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All your hopes and dreams personified
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| Negligence |
[26 Nov 2009|09:57am] |
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mood |
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 awake |
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music |
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"The News" - Carbon Silicon |
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Does anyone listen to my voice posts? How do I get them translated by an LJ bot? Those are always funny and inaccurate.
I live on Facebook as far as chronicling my life/keeping up with the lives of others is concerned. After a day of looking at a computer screen and giving myself carpal tunnel at 80wpm, I don't usually have the energy to type on LJ at a desk even less ergonomically correct than the one at work. Plus, I don't ever really have anything to say.
Wah. I'm depressed right now. I think the weather and lack of quality sleep have finally managed to bring me down, statue of Saddam-style. Trying to cut up and puree that much pumpkin was just the final straw. Even Glee couldn't bring me out of the funk, and that's saying a lot, considering I spend most of my time between 9:00 and 10:00 on Wednesday nights squealing with...well, glee. My solution to my funk is to buy a new mattress tomorrow (thank God for financing) and sleep on the air mattress tonight after possibly drinking heavily. That last part is negotiable.
Had a dream two nights ago that was extremely vivid (I was tasting the terrible Stimson food I was eating) and which involved, amongst other things, me asking Stylish Mike for forgiveness. It put me in quite a mood yesterday morning, to say the least. I have no intention of apologizing for anything, as the things I'm sorry about in that regard aren't the sorts of things you apologize for--"I'm sorry that I dated you right after my gma died and then didn't have the sense/strength to break up with you for real that first time."--and to be honest, other than a mild curiosity about where his life has led him, I don't feel anything for Mike anymore. No affection, no animosity, just apathy. Still, it was disturbing to have him in my dream after so many years. I strongly dislike my unconscious. And I sincerely hope that Goucher doesn't start raising its own chickens in an effort to hop on the locavore trend train.
I'm stressed about this Loyola craft festival. I haven't done shit for it, although I plan on buying frames tomorrow and ordering photos for Sunday pick-up. And I want to create the calendars in time to have Loyola's Central Duplication department print and bind them for me. I have less than a week. I'm terrified that no one will buy anything, and I'll be out all this money during a crucial paying-bills portion of the month, but a quick look at my checking account balance has me feeling ever so slightly better. And hopefully Michael's will have some good sales. Oh, note to self: I also need to pick up a frame for the chapel poster for Dean McGuiness. The print was about $10 to print/ship (it's an 11x14), and the frame will probably cost a bit, so I think I'm looking at charging around $45. Depending on the cost of the frame, I think it's a fair enough price, and Ilona said she'd pay a fair price for it.
There are lots of things to be thankful for, many of which were outlined in my Facebook status this morning. I just need to chill the fuck out and not be so harsh on myself, especially about my body shape. Yes, sometimes I look in the mirror and feel like my body is melting into the lower portions of itself, and yes, sometimes I get panicky and feel like I'm trapped inside someone else's fat and skin and unnaturally heavy bones, but...it's reversible, I'm told. I have my doubts, as I'm passionately in love with food and desperately paranoid that people at the gym are laughing at me, but I have hope that someday my pants will fit correctly (yes, a tailor could make that future dream a present reality, but I'm worried that if I spend the money to fix my pants, I'll gain, like, 15 lbs and just make the whole thing a waste of money) and that I won't have to buy pants a size bigger than my waist actually is all so my oversized thighs and ass can fit comfortably. Reach for the stars...
If you didn't plan on doing so already, you should come to my Alternative Thanksgiving party and bring an interesting a delicious dish. (Yes, you too, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) roland_ofgilead. Fuck Hawaii. I'm way cuter, and I have Rock Band. Does Hawaii have Rock Band?! ...It does? Hrmm. Okay, well, does it have pumpkin ice cream? Or...um...ME? *snort* Yeah, didn't think so.) I'm really looking forward to it, even if throwing a party involves a lot of cleaning and cooking and stress and me running around at the party not making meaningful connections with anyone because I'm trying to be a good hostess to everyone. It'll be worth it, and I've been waiting for it to be Saturday for about two weeks now.
That's it. Hope you enjoyed the update. Feel free to leave positive feedback.
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[14 Oct 2009|11:48am] |
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mood |
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 good, I guess |
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I have lost my interest in LiveJournal. Too much time to sit in front of my computer (after sitting in front of a computer all day) and type things out. Plus, it's all the same shit, different day, with a few changes to mix it up.
Can't get my Master's in Teaching at Loyola. The logistics won't work out. Will look into schools in Denver to see what my options out there.
Started seeing a therapist. Had my first meeting last week and will have my second meeting next week. My deductible is regrettably high--$101 for the first meeting; the next two are about $77/each; the one after that is $54 or so; the rest (up to 29) are $14/session. I have a "sad journal" where I'm supposed to keep track of all the times my depression/anxiety rears its ugly head. No, it's not full of entries like, "Saw that episode of Scrubs where Laverne died; cried for an hour" because haha! I don't watch that episode anymore when it comes on. Learned my lesson the FIRST time, thankyouverymuch.
The job is going well. I feel like a good employee and got an overwhelmingly glowing review from Dean McGuiness. It's nice working someplace where I'm appreciated, have benefits, and feel like I'm doing something good and interesting.
Friendships are going well. There are lots of people I'd like to see more, so I'm taking steps to make it happen. If there's anything going on in your life that I can't discern from your Facebook status update that may or may not show up in my newsfeed, drop me a line. You should have the email, and if you don't, it's easy to get.
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| What I Would Have Posted Friday, if I had had Time |
[13 Sep 2009|12:46pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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So it's 9/11, and I know that as long as I live, I'll never forget where I was and what I was doing when I heard about the Towers falling. It's an awful, awful tragedy, something that will probably define our country for years to come. Unlike Glenn Beck, I don't believe that the victims' families are "whiners" for suing the government or voicing their opinions that something could have been done to stop it, nor do I believe that the millions of citizens suffering from PTSD and physical side effects of inhaling all the rubble from the Towers have been fairly compensated and should just stfu already. What happened is terrible, and it still boggles my mind (because I'm so old) that there are children who are alive who haven't known things to be any different than they were after 9/11. It needs to be taught in history classrooms, and it needs to be taught well.
However, I think about countries like Israel and Palestine (or where Palestine should be) and the other countries in the Middle East where attacks like that (although perhaps not to that degree where over 2,000 people were killed all at once and thousands more are still dying from complications) occur every day. Those countries can't take a moment of silence on the anniversary of every awful terrorist attack because then nothing would ever get done. Car bombings and suicide bombings and random acts of awful violence are happening all the time out there, and for many citizens, they've never known it to be any different.
Sometimes, it makes me uncomfortable to hear people (mostly Republicans) go on and on about 9/11 and how we need to get vengeance against the terrorists and continue fighting this pointless War on Terror (because how can you fight an abstract?!) because, I mean...come on. We have it pretty good in America. Yeah, we have a ton of psycho white guys going on major killing sprees every few weeks it seems, and we have a lot of gang violence and problems with drug czars and the "usual" amount of crime and death, but we also don't have to deal with terrorist attacks every day. This awful, terrible thing happened to us, but it's happened to us ONCE, and while we shouldn't forget that it happened, sometimes I wonder how other countries perceive of our...obsession...with that day.
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| Arts |
[05 Sep 2009|10:17am] |
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mood |
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 worried |
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I'm really nervous about tomorrow. At this point, the nervousness has eclipsed the excitement and novelty of selling my photography for the first time. I'm worried that we'll get lost on the way, that we won't find good parking, that our part of the festival won't be as well-walked as the others, and especially that no one will want to buy my photos or, maybe worse, that people will try to aggressively haggle prices with me, something I'm just not prepared to do. The prices for my photos are based on the cost of the frame: I want to cover the cost and also make enough to make the buying-selling worthwhile. Most of the photos will be selling for $25-$30, although I might hit up Michael's today for a last-minute purchase of these two more-expensive frames for the photos I was going to submit to Irvine. I don't know. I also maybe want to get price tag stickers.
I printed out more business cards while I was at work yesterday (avery.com has a nice step-by-step creation program that I used), so while I don't have, like, 100, I have one for each photo that could sell, and about 20 or so that I can hand out to interested parties who want to see more of my work. I also have a website: LnFNikki.dotphoto.com with slideshows (although the damn website didn't give a shit which background music I chose, so it defaulted to lame music, but whatever). Yes, it needs more work, but people can buy photos right off the site and can contact me about frame options and things like that, so that's good, I guess.
I just really don't want to look like a hack. I want to look like someone who is selling photography that you would want in your home. I've already sold a photo to my friend Liz from high school and to Agnes, and if Olivier ever has a free night available, I can sell the photo I framed for him to him. Kelsey said that she's gonna buy something for her new home once she gets her bank account back into the black. And Mom, Grandma, and Emily all have framed photos that I have given them hanging in their homes. Ironically, I don't have any of my artwork in my own home. Hrmm. I should fix that.
What I'm saying, I guess, is that I really would like to be successful with this, but I'm worried that, like with most things in my life, I won't have the drive to make this anything more than selling to friends and giving things away as gifts.
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[21 Aug 2009|06:43pm] |
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mood |
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 meh |
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I should update. But there's not much to say. Can't get my Masters at Loyola. Or, well, I *could*, but it wouldn't be a Masters in Teaching Fine Arts. To get into the school, I have to pass both PRAXIS exams. The first is easy--I got a 1270 on my SAT, so I've already passed it. The second would have to be taken in the subject that I'd want to teach--theatre. Turns out, you actually have to KNOW stuff to teach theatre! Go figured. I'd have to take a study course for the test though because, true story, it's been five years since I've had any kind of theatre class, and I'm pretty rusty about a lot of stuff. So I'd spend all this money studying for the test and taking the test, and then Loyola doesn't offer a fine arts concentration in any of its graduate teaching programs! I don't know what to do! I can't afford to get a Masters on my own; I just really, really don't want to add that much more student loan debt to my plate, not after doing so well paying it off for these past few years. And Loyola's not going to pay for me to get my masters somewhere else. So I want to sit down with someone in the School of Education and see what can be done. Worst case...I guess I find some way to pay for a Masters. I want to be able to teach theatre and get paid a decent sum of money to do it. I need to research schools in MD and Colorado (where Steve and I hope to move within five years) and see if any offer a Masters in teaching fine arts. *sigh* Oh well. At this point, let's face it: I'm used to my dreams being deferred for a while. ;P
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| Whomp whomp |
[02 Aug 2009|10:56am] |
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mood |
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 I'm an artist! |
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Art Festival was canceled because of rain. Props to Karen for getting that all figured out, as I was asleep and also because the organizer of said Festival didn't send an email about the cancellation, which she may have said she wouldn't do in another email. Seriously. I've got SO MANY emails from this lady. Ridiculous. I think our money is credited towards a table at October's Festival, if we want, so we'll probably end up doing that. Plus I've got my showing at the Irvine Nature Center coming up soon, so that's exciting. And we can always do the first Saturdays art flea market at Station North if we really want to pimp our stuff. I'm running a sale on my photos on Facebook; don't be deadbeats and go buy some. ;) And I'm trying to get this damn website I'm starting up and running, so actually it's good that there isn't a Festival today because I was definitely handing out "business cards" with my photos that pimped the website, and as of right now, the website is some half-assed description of me and what I do and, like, four photos in a cheesy slide show.
I think for the September Festival, I'm going to expand the things I'm offering--more elaborate frames for certain pictures, collage frames and photos, perhaps I'll take advantage of the "make your own calendar" option that my website and Walgreens.com offers. Cheesy? Yes. Will I do it anyway and sell it for, like, $10 and litter random holidays like Bastille Day and Talk Like a Pirate Day and my birthday in there? MOST DEF. Unlike my lovely Emily, I have no qualms about selling out my art like that, as long as it makes me laugh while I'm doing it. ;)
I also wrote a short story, which I posted on FB, but which few people gave me any sort of criticism on other than Boyfriend, who mentioned a few grammatical/typo things that I should change. It's more of an emotional piece, though, and he's more of a scientist, so I guess I should have expected feedback of that kind only from him. I can't decide who the narrator of the piece is; it's either a young, awkward man, possibly like Stinja, or it's a young, awkward girl, possibly like Adri. I tend to favor the "like Adri" perspective, although I know that it'll automatically be read with a heterosexual gaze, despite being written by a female author. And I don't know if that's just a failing of mine as the writer, or if that's just society is wired. While I have read recently a book of lesbian short stories (which I want to lend to Adri because I think she'd like it), none of them were as...vague? abstract?...as mine. Bah. I really like my little story for what it is, so to hell with it.
So when you add the burst of photographic creativity with the fact that I'm writing fiction and my memoirs (which are like fiction) again (the memoirs are in a notebook for now; they will later be transferred to LJ for everyone to enjoy and add to) and the play that I was just in (although with the exception of teaching myself a damn fine French accent (everyone says so, and I don't think they're just being polite!), I don't think a murder mystery at CCBC is really a creative stretch for me as an actor), I'm having a really nice creative spurt. This is great, as I've been creatively constipated for a few months now, and that has brought me down. I think all my awesomeness is making Steve the Scientist a little sad because he's convinced that he's not creative, but I pointed out that he plays the drums and is musical, whereas I can't keep a rhythm to save my life, so there's that. He says that it just takes so much effort for him to be creative, though, and that makes my little heart break because I firmly believe that EVERYONE should have a creative outlet, even if it's not, like, sell-at-a-festival-and-have-snotty-Annapolitans-buy-it worthy. So maybe I'll see if there's a cheap class or something we can take together, or maybe we can paint or something, and he can be creative and awesome and feel like he's just as cool as his awesome girlfriend (which he won't be, because, really, I'm the BEST), and that'll make me happy.
PS: No, I am not drunk or stoned, no matter what the formatting of the last paragraph may imply. I just woke up about a half-hour ago, and so I'm still foggy-headed. And anyway, it's MY LJ, I'll be incoherent if I want to. ;-p
PSS: Summary of above entry: I am creative again, and that makes me happy.
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| Something I wrote |
[31 Jul 2009|06:06pm] |
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mood |
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contemplative |
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Something I wrote recently. I need a new title, and as usual, any and all constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated. ;)
"Murder" cast: This is what I was writing in the back of my novel last weekend.
The first time I saw her, she was sitting in the crook of a maple tree. Red autumn leaves were tangled in her hair, but whether this was of her own design or by some accident of Nature, I didn’t know. She was reading a ratty copy of Cien Sonetos de Amor, and she would occasionally murmur select passages to herself, sighing and smiling after each line.
I could have gone on watching her forever, clichéd as that sounds; the way a slight breeze caught the edge of her moss-green skirt and fluttered it my way, as if to acknowledge my presence and let me know that it would be with me shortly. The brown-black bottoms of her feet dangling over a limb, kicking and swaying a-rhythmically. Her pale, freckled arms and her fingers gently stroking bark. The dappled spill of sunlight and leaf shadows throwing patterns on her chest.
When she had reached some satisfactory end point in her book of love poetry, she plucked a leaf from her tendrils and tucked it between the pages as a place marker. She stared off into the distance for a moment, contemplating the school yard below. Then she turned her head and looked me directly in my eyes. She took a deep, full breath and said, “I want to eat your skin like a whole almond,” taking care to enunciate every syllable of every word.
I was struck dumb. Before, I had always heard that phrase and thought it silly, for I had never been dumbstruck before. My words escaped me, evacuating my mouth with a “huh” of air and scattering themselves across the playground. All brain activity screeched to a halt, and the world around me became alarmingly silent except for the clamber-rustle of tree limbs and the whoosh of her skirt as it ballooned around her during her controlled plummet to the ground.
She picked up her book and cradled it to her chest, the front cover hidden and protected, as if she didn’t want anyone to see its title. She gave me one last, meaningful glance, holding eye contact with me for just a fraction too long. The end of her mouth twitched into a curved smile, accented by a flush of pink to her cheeks, and off she ran towards the school building, a trail of leaves scattering behind her.
To say I was in love would be doing a great injustice to the word.
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| lose10lbsplz |
[29 Jul 2009|09:14pm] |
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mood |
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 chunky monkey?! |
] |
So I joined Calorie Count in the hopes that keeping a track of how much I eat and what I eat will make me more aware of my caloric intake, and if I'm more aware, then maybe I'll eat less and therefore lose weight. It's a tedious program, and I've joined others like it before with little success. But I want to weight at least 130lbs, dammit, and making myself aware of portion sizes is one of the best ways I can think to achieve this goal. I also need to step up my exercise; I'll have to get in touch with my gym buddy after the show is over and see if there's at least two days a week that she and I can meet up EVERY week at Planet Fitness. Might as well get my $10/month's worth, you know? Steve goes at odd hours, and he's doing strength training right now, so we'd be on opposite sides of the gym. I don't really talk while I'm working out on the treadmill or the elliptical because I'm out of shape and would pass out from the lack of oxygen, but I like having someone nearby in case I want to talk. Plus, if I have someone to chat with in between songs on my iPod, then I don't have to read shit magazines like US Weekly and find out how sad the Gosselin kids are. (Thank you, Captain Obvious of Magazines.)
So a few of the women I've encountered on the abovementioned website have been with the program for a while. They're roughly my height--5'3" - 5'5"--and they're all between 122 and 128 pounds. And they're all still unhappy with how they look. And they don't know why they're at their target weight but still feel fat and still hate the way they look. I understand where their body image issues come from; I struggle with them myself daily. I just really hope that when I reach my goal weight, I won't hate myself if I can't reach an extra 5lbs after that. (I haven't been 125lbs since I had mono when I was 16.)
125lbs is, like, this imaginary ideal number where, if I reach it, everything will fall into place--I will get married to the man I love, I will be able to afford a new car without bankrupting myself, I'll win the lottery, I'll move into a new dream home, I'll get the perfect job, my hair will stop falling out and looking so shitty, and my skin will clear up, and I'll never get babies ever, no matter how much unsafe sex I have. However, I know that none of this will come true. Just because the scale I'm stepping on at any given moment says some arbitrary number I've chosen for myself doesn't mean my healthy lifestyle journey has come to an end. I'll have to maintain that weight forever. I'll have to be in shape, where I can walk up at least four flights of stairs without feeling light-headed. I'll have to learn to accept myself as being beautiful and sexy, whether I'm 125 or 135 (or 140, which I am now).
Steve is incredibly supportive about all this, but he also understands that while he may think I'm sexy and beautiful the way I am, *his* opinion doesn't really count a hill of beans. I have to like me for any of this to be effective.
So!! if anyone wants to join/go to Planet Fitness with me at least once a week, let me know! Let's make a schedule! (I like to go on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays best. I prefer not to go on weekends, as I'd rather get my exercise doing other things, like playing outside during nice weather times.) If you have good, healthy recipes you'd like to pass on, please do so! (Anything with high levels of protein would be especially appreciated, as that's what Steve needs for his weight loss plan thinger.) I can use all the support I can get. :)
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| My fingernails are longer than I usually like them. |
[19 Jul 2009|02:11pm] |
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mood |
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 cranky |
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music |
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Act Two, Scene One |
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I haven't trimmed them since my manicure before the wedding. Yes, I know that's only a week, but they were sort of long before the wedding, and they're longer now. I usually don't like to have them this long, as it slows down my typing (from about 80wpm to something like 70wpm, although maybe I'm exaggerating), and I worry about scratching Boyfriend by accident. I have to change the nail polish tonight anyway, as French maids didn't have turquoise nail polish in a French manicure trim back in the 1940s. I'm borrowing some red nail polish from my mom later tonight.
Things are going okay with the play. While the party last night was awesome, and my ice cream better than anyone, myself included, had thought it would be, I had bad dreams last night, so that's affected my mood. Plus I'm stuck inside in an overly-air conditioned cafetorium (the stage is in the middle of the school's cafeteria) on a beautiful Sunday. I'd much rather be cleaning up the apartment and talking to Larry (FINALLY) about his friend's Honda Civic and maybe sun bathing or seeing my pooch or going somewhere nice and taking photos. Or seeing my boyfriend. Wouldn't that be novel? One more week of rehearsals, and then we open, and I get my life back. Paul and I have a date for the Tuesday after next to go to Golden West Cafe and have their tater tots and get drunk off sangria and sit at the bar and be more fabulous than all the hipsters. And later that week, I'll finally be able to have the time to sit down and watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Wordplay. We've had the former for something like two weeks and the latter since Thursday maybe. There are movies in theatres still that I want to see, and Steve and I have several gift cards to area restaurants that we need to use. I want to have more deck parties and take more pictures and see my niece and James and Steph.
I love theatre, but I'm kinda totally over this play. (You should still come see it though, if only to hear my French accent.)
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| For posterity's sake |
[12 Jul 2009|04:27pm] |
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mood |
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proud |
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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] |
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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] |
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mood |
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 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 |
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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] |
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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] |
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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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