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Friday, December 21, 2012

Christmas Break is Coming (Yay!)

So, I haven't jumped off the terrace yet. Today is a good day I suppose.

Day two. I'm actually counting the days until I'm the hell up on out of here for our mandatory Christmas break. Every morning I feel like I'm on a forced march. Last night, I stayed up washing and deep conditioning my hair and rereading my writing. You should have seen how much hair came out in my comb! I felt like Kristina on Parenthood (did you watch it? I was shocked it was a new episode. SVU was new last night too- what the heck is going on? It's kinda late in the season for original episodes to still be airing.) I'll be bald by February at the rate I'm going. Jocelyn- my beautician- is going to wonder what the hell happened to me over Christmas break. I mean I had a little hair loss the last two times I saw her but she's gonna freak now.

Anyhoo, I'm going to try to go back to my stories as a form of stress relief.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Goddammit!

Crisis!!! Argh!

As I knew in all my nightmares would happen, my iPod finally erased all 1800 of my songs and all I have left is the 300-400 songs that I bought legally from iTunes. It was bound to happen. I've just been waiting- like a fool. Just last week I was saying to myself "You should just bite the bullet and pay for iCloud, so you can stop worrying." But I didn't. And now I'm bereft. So as was my fall back plan, I emailed Claire to see if she would be willing to have her husband send me the contents of my CPU (which they have- longish story). I don't think she's going to do it, in fact I don't think she's going to even respond to my email. But my therapist (with whom I've been talking about this CPU issue for at least year now) thinks that if she was ever my friend and if she has even one reasonable bone in her body, Claire will do it. Like I said, I highly doubt it. And if I'm right, I am assed out. All my music is gone. Years of CDs and illegal downloads....gone, poof. I'd be sick about it but I don't have the energy. I feel resigned at this point.

Well, that and the fact that I have one last Hail Mary (and it would be a real miracle if it works). Since I never throw any thing out, I actually still have the CPU from before my last CPU. And most of my music was on that computer too. It's just that I haven't turned that computer on in almost ten years. So IF it will even turn back on after all this time, all the data might be corrupted. But I'd pay some tech-guru to retrieve it for me - that would -guaranteed -be cheaper than trying to buy all that music again. Anyhoo, we shall see what comes to pass. Pray for me, and the magnanimity of Claire (I laugh at that).

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

23

For no reason, and not because he did or said anything particularly, I think I officially have a crush (a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty one) on that guy I told you about on 23. I saw him today on the elevator for the first time in weeks and I said hey and he said hey with matching enthusiasm and he seemed (though it might have been totally in my head) like he wanted to say something else. Don't worry I don't think he wanted to profess his undying love or anything crazy, I'm not bugging out up here on Madison Avenue. I just think he was probably going to ask me how my Thanksgiving was or something small talk-ish. But he didn't because there were other people in the elevator. Still, it was weirdly thrilling to believe that he wanted to say something to me- however innocuous it probably was- that maybe he didn't. Like a secret (no, I'm not insane). Anyhoo, overall, I was so happy to see him that I think I realized right then that this was a nascent crush forming.

Which usually means the beginning of misery but might actually be nice this time, as it's something to keep my mind occupied instead of constantly contemplating giving notice and what I would do to pay for food and my bills if I did. 'Cuz, it hit me after watching last week's SVU that I'm officially too old to be on the stroll. So I have no skills and I can't even seriously consider selling my ass anymore. LOL!

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Fuck 'em!

Long time no hear from, I know, I know. I've been, I was going to say uninspired, but really just lazy. I'm annoyed today however, so I've got a little more fire in my belly...here goes:

I know from the title of this post it's going to sound like I'm spoiling for a fight but honestly I'm not. Actually I'm more resigned than anything.

On Thanksgiving afternoon, my mother passed along to me, my soon-to-be sister-in-law's gently used copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. It was nearly a full year after she promised to lend it to me and in the intervening time I'd learned all I actually needed to know about the book from various media and others who'd read it and were only too happy to share. But I read it anyway. I'm like that. I always want to know what all the fuss is about and I want to know first-hand. For that reason, I've also read the Dragon Tattoo trilogy and the five Game of Thrones tomes. I'm always happy to hear about it but then I've got to make up my own mind, thankyouverymuch.

So I made fairly quick work of Fifty Shades I and moved on to II, but now I'm irritated. Irritated because I've been so easily manipulated (like everyone who made it a NYTimes best-seller) by the author's prose. It's not literature, don't misunderstand. It's not even an awesome read but it's definitely much better written than I had any right to hope for. As you can guess, all it is is erotica- they have sex every three or four pages with a little character development in between-there are no greater aspirations. (That is a compliment.) But a lot of the stuff I've read recently has been sorely lacking in even those fundamentals. So it's been interesting reading.

What makes this book so intriguing yet annoying is how utterly textbook it is. From all the hubbub in the news, I was expecting to be scandalized. I thought I was in for some high-kink but really it was quite pedestrian (and maybe that's more a statement about me than anything else). It's basically a by-the-numbers, if raunchy and better fleshed-out, Harlequin romance. The protagonist is highly uninteresting but the love-interest? Well, that's it really, he's where the meat is- as it should be right? A commanding, wealthy, Captain of Industry, who underneath it all is really just a deeply-flawed and painfully insecure man in need of the love of a good woman. That, my friends, is (at least in part) the description of almost every romance novel ever written, isn't it? Nothing new there.

Which brings me very neatly to my beef. There it is in every romance novel and every rom-com movie you'll every read or see: from Sex and the City to Jane Eyre- the same issue. "What do women want?" men ask. C'mon dude open your eyes or read a fucking book! And no, I'm not saying all women want is a wealthy industrialist (though I'm sure no women would kick one out of bed). And no, most don't want to heal a psychically wounded man (although, I'm positive there are a lot of women out there that are doing just that). What I'm saying is, what women want and offer when they offer up themselves is very obvious.

They want love (duh) and someone to take care of. That's it. Not complicated at all. I say that in a very generally way because in my soft, (and according to Wendy Williams - pink), woman's soul I believe this to be a universal truth. Now, don't get it twisted, I don't mean "take care of" like, cook, clean, procreate and darn socks- although again, there are a lot of chicks out there doing that shit too- but that's not what I'm talking about. I have absolutely no interest in doing that for myself, let alone another fully-grown adult human being, so no.  I'm saying that any woman out there you'll find -including the most non-traditionalist, radical, femi-nazi in Christendom- is interested in being your anchor, your balm, your succor, your home (in the truest sense). I'm talking about the tending of someone's soul. That's what the average woman wants and proffers with herself. And I have thousands of years of human history (and the scientific fact that attached men are healthier than single men) to back up that assertion. Sounds good doesn't it? Pretty nice deal. one would think.

Yet men scorn us. They content themselves with the idea that they must be snookered or guilted into relationships. They run screaming away from marriage and act like the sky is falling or the universe is collapsing in on itself if a woman wants a commitment. Really? Because being adored and supported is such a cross to bear? Is it in truth? All women just want to lock men down and trap them- become giant albatrosses around their necks? Sounds frightening.

So I say, fuck 'em. Why should a man need to be convinced to be in a serious relationship? Why should I have to convince you to do what's in your own best interest? And why should I let society convince me to drag some random dude kicking and screaming into an institution that ultimately will be to his benefit and my detriment- sucking all of the lifeblood out of me (particularly once you bring children into it)? It's just dumb.  What about a series of random hookups and empty serial relationships holds such seductive appeal? I don't get it. Personally I think you've seen one vagina, you've seen them all.

And what does any of this have to do with Fifty Shades of Grey? I'm just annoyed- with myself most acutely -for being such a unmitigated sucker. For liking the goddamned book. For swooning, like everyone else, at the idea of being everything to one man, his love, his salvation, the only woman in the world (like Rihanna said). For wanting (despite knowing better), what every woman wants. For buying into the bullshit. And for, maybe not believing, but accepting when men say that they don't know what we want or they don't know how to give it to us or they don't understand us. Really you don't?

Well, then go read a romance novel, any one of them... I know for a fact E.L. James wrote three of 'em.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Water Works...

My boss reduced me to tears yesterday (in front of her). Before you're too shocked - it's not that hard. I'll cry at the drop of a hat. I just try not to do it in front of people. I should have excused myself to go to the bathroom but we were right in the middle of a one-on-one meeting so I didn't. I walked out to my desk to get something and tried to pull myself together - which would have worked had she not noticed my eyes were red and running and asked me directly if I was crying. Which of course made my eyes and nose run like a leaky faucet. It was just awful. The whole thing. I hate it here.

I really didn't want to even come in today. Honestly I want to quit. I can't work somewhere where I'm miserable everyday and afraid of my boss. And more importantly, I've now stigmatized myself as a big ole baby- who can't take a stern talking to. One of two things is going to happen soon, either she's gonna fire me or I'm gonna quit. (I suspect the former -my parents would shit over the latter). I honestly don't understand what's wrong with me. Despite the fact that working at my last job felt like it was killing me I probably shouldn't have left. But you know, this is probably going to happen to me at every job. I hate this. I hate my "career"- such that it is. It's self pitying to say I should just go be a bum somewhere (though it's true) but I need to do something. Come up with a plan of some sort or I'm going to just kill myself, seriously.

I think I need to have an emergency appointment with my therapist.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

The Guy on 23

So totally random, sort of embarrassing story.

A couple of weeks ago, I got on the elevator with two girls that basically look like models and a guy (all winter-tribe aka white people). I had begun to noticed that a lot of model-types worked here and got off on the 18th and 19th floor. It didn't take me long from there to note that the 18th and 19th floors were owned by Chanel. Mystery solved- although it's Chanel's corporate office. Why are they hiring girls that look like models just to work in the office? Anyhoo, that day when the girls, very predictably, got off on 18, I turned to the white guy who I hadn't really been paying attention to before and said "You can always tell the girls that work on 18." To which he laughed and made a joke about what you could tell about the dudes that worked on 23- his floor. His arm was in sling and he was wearing a cast. So I think he was suggesting that all the dudes on his floor by extension must be busted and broke down. The joke wasn't funny because he botched it, kinda of tripping over his words the way I would have if it had been me. But I laughed because the guy was kinda cute in a really average white guy kind of way and he was trying to be clever. Even in the flubbing of the joke, it was cute (he tried to say it twice and fucked it up both times, LOL).

Okay, so that is just background to my embarrassment- mortification really, (I'm building it up way too much, you're going to read it and think I had no reason to be embarrassed- so perhaps you needed to be there). Anyway, I'm walking behind this guy going into our building. The front doors on the building (there's two sets) are really heavy, and can be heavier if it's windy out- you know the way. I'm right behind him coming in through the first door, but the way he opened it, I thought he could see me behind him. So as we head for the second set, I see him pull the door open in that kind of way that people do when they're about to let the person behind them walk in first. Like the gentlemanly way. You know, you pull the door all the way right and kind of stand to the side. So I take the lead as a lady (saying thank you of course) and it's such a pleasant surprise because men nowadays are really low on chivalry I find. But I walk around him and start to walk in as he does the same thing. You see, he was NOT holding the door open for me. Which, of course, led me to wonder why did he pull the door open as if he was? I didn't ask though. I just dissolved into profuse apologies for being so presumptuous. He did, in the end, hold the door open for me as I was already half way through it anyway. I laughed nervously with my head literally in my hands. I was so incredibly mortified. I don't know why but it was surreal how embarrassed I was.

On the way to the elevator, he explained that his arm had been in a cast (!) and he lost some of his range of motion and strength in that arm so he can't open the door regularly. He has to haul it all the way open using his whole body strength and then slip in. Hence the appearance that he'd been pulling the door wide to let me in first. That was the point when I realized he was the cutie with the sling from a couple weeks before. (All winters are beginning to look alike to me, I guess). So I mentioned that I knew he had been in the cast and I apologized some more as we got on the elevator. We talked about the Hurricane and the fact that there's a line wrapped around the Apple Store and what that means for people's messed up priorities first thing in the morning until we reach my floor. That's it. Just wanted to share my mishaps. I'm so bad at interpersonal relations. Even the simple shit like walking in doors.

But I hope I see (and recognize) him next time I'm on the elevator.

On another topic, my coworker Beth* invited me to some random guy's 30th b-day party this weekend. Actually, the guy is a friend of her brother's so I guess not totally random. Anyhoo, if I go, I will most likely be the only speck of color at this thing (and the oldest speck to boot). If I was 30lbs lighter and some white-identified black girl named Shari or something, it would probably be a lot of fun. But you know I'm me, so I'm wondering if I should bother. I know I need to make some white friends. And this could be a start, but I just keep imagining myself alone at this white-ass bar holding up the wall.

*Not her real name, of course

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The Return of Boss Lady

My boss is back after two weeks of being away- which means I'm back in dress pants, skirts and blouses. (When the cat's away the mice can wear jeans and stuff). Also it means my anxiety level is on the rise. She talks in this really soft almost monotone voice that should be really soothing, but reminds me of a serial killer. I don't know why she frightens me. I mean she's the kind of person that when you say something that displeases her she doesn't raise her voice or frown (really, maybe a little) she just remains quiet and lets you squirm until you hang yourself with your own words. It's not completely different from my old boss- you'd only get a rise out of her if she was pissed, but at least I'd learned to read her face and when she was annoyed I'd just ask her if she was upset (usually she denied it and in doing so, defused herself).

Boss Lady is an unknown quantity and she makes me nervous as shit. Anyway, she back in the office and I'm trying to be on my p's and q's. We'll see how that goes. I keep thinking worse case scenario I'm forced to quit. There's a chance I could go back to my old job (I wouldn't want to though) or I just live on dog food for a while until something else comes along. It's not the end of the world. I'll try my best and that's all I can do. I'm gonna attempt to not worry about it too much. (That's big for me- my therapist should be proud.)

Monday, October 22, 2012

My Little Brother's Birthday

So my brother's birthday was this past weekend. I went and hung at my mom's so we could do stuff together. His girlfriend/fiancee came down too. I have been attempting not to dislike her for a few years now but her level of familiarity irritates me. She calls my mom "Mom", has her whole family up in my Mom's house for long periods of time, eating her out of house and home and not replenishing her food stock, she left her dog at my mom's house for months (even though my mom's complex has a no pets rule). But I've been trying hard not to blame her for all this and place the blame where it actually belongs- with my brother for allowing all this and my mom for being a doormat enabler. None of this shit would be happening if I was still living up in that piece and I think both my mom and my brother know that. Even back in the day, I was really the law in my house and once I got older it stopped being an unspoken joke and became the truth. Once I moved out for college it was like two children were living in the house together, eating nothing but junk and staying up all night and having their friends over at all hours. My mom's house is like the fun house with no rules (okay she's not quite that bad).

ANY-WAY, I think the last straw for me with my brother's girl was this Friday when she got to my mom's house and she was wearing MY hoodie. (Granted I haven't seen that hoodie in years and it's like an XXL so it's much too big) But it's MINE and it's new since I never wore it and it's kind of a souvenir. (I know I'm petty- I'm owning it) It's stupid and would take a while to explain but the hoodie is from the Black Dog on Martha's Vineyard (and people who get Black Dog gear know) you wear it forever and keep it forever and the older your Black dog stuff is the better. Which is to say that since I got that in the nineties, it's pretty valuable (not monetarily of course) but in cache. My mom and brother don't know that of course but since the hoodie doesn't belong to either of them I didn't think I'd need to explain it. But now his girlfriend has it and I'll look crazy petty if I ask my brother to get it back. Especially in light of further developments.

Such as the fact that the girlfriend, Lisa*, apparently insisted that they (she and my brother) go skating (ice or roller, I don't know). My mom wasn't in favor of the idea, and my brother wasn't enthused but he went along because Lisa was excited. My mom and I went to Woodbury Commons instead of out with them. So on our way back we get a call from Lisa saying "Don't worry, but your brother's been hurt". My mom is freaked. "It's not a big deal but we're waiting on an ambulance to come to the rink". BTW, my brother has no health insurance- so an ambulance you say? "His arm has been dislocated in a fall, but he's fine." she says. "The rink just insists that he go to the hospital." For a fall? People fall at a rink all day, that's a lot of ambulances, wouldn't you say? Come to find out, he's broken his arm. Great!

Now, remember there's a no-health insurance thing? So who's paying for all this? Not my brother and certainly the girlfriend. So, my mom is understandably pissed. Okay so full-disclosure, my little brother is actually 27 years old, 6'2 and over 300 pounds. He's not a small child or a gullible teen. But one way or another, at his size he has a far way to fall and lot of weight to bring down when he does it. I mean I agree that it had to be just plain old nasty to not only necessitate an ambulance but also break a bone. But in all honesty, any fall for a guy his size is going to be pretty bad, I suspect. It's kind of like an old person, when they fall it's potentially life threatening because of the extenuating circumstances- age, level of infirmity, etc. Same thing here. The first thing I thought when I heard what happened was "He's not a kid anymore. Falls are not the same as when you fell and bounced back as a kid." I've learned that shit the hard way.

Well, I heard he had a follow-up visit to the hospital yesterday ($$) though I don't know what they said. I suspect he must be fairly okay because my mom didn't call me and freak out. Oh by the way, he broke his humerus (upper arm) not the lower part below the elbow that you always think of when someone says "broken arm". He broke the area where his bicep is (think again of how nasty that must have been that the fleshy upper arm wasn't fleshy enough to absorb the impact...yowch!) They can't even give him a cast. So they put him in a splint. I've been imagining that they wrapped his arm around his chest sling-style to act as a makeshift splint. But I really don't know the logistics. Hopefully he'll take good care of himself, so it heals properly. I wonder if he can go to work even?

I know some of my mom's pissed-offedness is more related to her thinking of my brother still as her baby, who this big bad girl gave a boo-boo to. Whatever. But for me, Lisa was already on my shitlist. So I don't really care why she's now on my mom's. Call it jealousy or whatever, it matters not to me.

*Her name's not actually Lisa, naturally.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

My Standard English Shopping List

As it is October and I am not taking my annual trip across the pond, I'm just going to list my typical go-to shopping list when I'm in the UK. (God I'm already jones-ing for my Yorkshire Gold tea):

1) Two or three bottles of Boots-brand Witch Hazel and Tea Tree Foaming Face wash

2) One pack (four or six bars) of Imperial Leather soap

3) One or two small tins of Vaseline lip balm (In whichever flavor they have: regular, rose, aloe vera, cocoa butter- the little tins are different colors based on the flavor- they're so cool)

4) Pack of Cadbury dairy milk chocolate bars (they taste better than American Cadbury - I've been told it's because the English kind contains more milkfat)

5) A sack of Wotsits (A google search can tell you what those are)

6) a 2-litre bottle of Lilt (grapefruit-citrus soda)

7) a 2-litre bottle of Orange Fanta (it tastes different in the UK - closer to Orangina but better)

8) various sundries from Marks and Spencer (bras, panties and wonderful smelling body washes and lotions)

Yeah, yeah it's all junk but it's awesome British junk.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Making A Lasting Impression At Work...

So I just made a boo-boo and antagonized the girl who is the assistant director. I didn't mean to but you know me. My mouth starts moving and shit just starts coming out. So the deal is: She was asking what time she should have a car come get her tomorrow for a flight she has to ATL tomorrow night at 8pm. Me and the Temp woman were trying to guess-timate and she said around 5:30. I said it's a domestic flight so you only have to be there an hour early. But Temp woman (TW for short, or Erica* 'cuz that's her name) said "yeah but traffic at that time of the day will be a killer". We all agreed. And this is where my mouth moved forward before my head. I said "well, you don't look like the type of person who likes to ride the train but what you could do is take the 4/5 to 125 and then take the M60. It's probably quicker". Well you know she got her panties in a bunch, what do you mean by that? she said. And then I was like "aw sookie sookie, I done done it." 'Cuz you know what I meant wasn't that she didn't look like the type of girl that doesn't like to ride the train, I meant she doesn't look like the type of white girl that would feel safe going up to the quote unquote 'hood.

That's what I meant but I of course didn't say that and in retrospect if I knew I'd get shit for it I might as well have. Because she and Erica just went to town. (Honestly- because Erica is the kind of white girl that would get on the train at two fifth or in the Bronx or Brownsville, or in East New York- not because she's "down" but 'cuz she doesn't give a fuck). So the AD is like "that sounds like you're saying I'm snob". And I try to explain without just coming out with it that that's not want I meant, while Erica is howling with laughter (because again, I think she knows what I'm saying and is having fun watching me squirm). So that was two days ago on Wednesday. So I'm thinking the shit has blown over but M. (the boss lady) has left for the day and so we gather around talking and just for shits and giggles Erica brings it up again and I proceed to try to rationalize my statement badly and Beth (the AD) is getting pissed and Erica is laughing. (She leaves today so it's all fun and games but starting Monday it's just me and Beth in the office -because boss lady is in London).

Finally Beth gets annoyed with my feeble explanation, jumps up and pantomimes me digging myself deeper with a shovel. Great. (She wasn't wrong.) Only Jesus/Mohammed/Buddha/Krishna sitting on my shoulder saying "STFU!" stopped me from finally just saying "Look, I said it because you are the type of girl that didn't hear that Harlem is gentrified and has almost as many white people living here as black at this point! You're the type that is still worried she'll get mugged on two-fifth!" But again I didn't say anything. I just sighed deeply and apologized for any offense I caused. Jesus! I don't know that I'm going to make it here. Seriously. The distance from my house is great and the paycheck seems decent (I think I haven't really seen it yet) but if this is what I have to look forward to indefinitely, I think I'm going to have to see if Crate and Barrel is hiring.

PS. And the thing is I'm completely right. Erica was going to ride with her up to 125 and get on the M60 with her, but now they've decided (which is actually smarter given where we are) to take the N/R to Astoria Blvd and then catch the M60 there (AKA once it's well out of the hood). But right isn't might, correct? So what if I'm a good judge of character and had her number right away? She reserves the right to be offended by my inference and indictment of her character (I'm saying this as a truism- I'm not being sarcastic here. She's right. I realized that I just need to learn to STFU.)

*Erica's real name is Erica but "Beth" is not Beth

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Putting in Some Undertime

I gotta get out of my office and go get something to eat (at least an apple or something) 'cuz my stomach is growling- or something approximating that- like crazy. It actually feels a little upset but I know that's hunger. I was working steadily this morning- grinding it out but I got sidelined by a mid-day conference call so now I've slowed down and I'm checking out CNET to hear the latest on the Apple vs. Samsung copyright infringement lawsuit (did you hear about that?) Apparently, Apple won and now Samsung owes them about a billion (with a "b") dollars. Interesting.

I also watched the pilot of The Mindy Project" on hulu (listened to it while glimpsing parts of it briefly is probably more accurate description of what actually went down). It seemed interesting and it was decently funny. Mindy Kaling needs to work on her delivery a little- she's a bit wooden, but that didn't hurt Jerry Seinfeld. Admittedly, though Jerry is not a little, cute Indian woman though- so they might not give her as much of a pass as they gave him. But it was cute- the premise is that she's a pediatrician that is completely inept- not at her job but at her life. The way the show starts she's explaining to a police officer why she was arrested for drunken disorderly-ness (not a word) and public intoxication for have ridden a bicycle into someone's pool after having attended her ex's wedding.

Like I said it was cute and it's refreshing kind of to see Mindy being like white identified and have like stereotypical "white girl angst" while being so clearly not white. I mean that girl is darker than me and it's not at all the point- she's as white-identified as can be. It's interesting and refreshing. They're telegraphing an inevitable romance between her and my backup-lover #5 Chris Messina (that was Rashida Jones' new guy in Celeste and Jesse Forever). He's an obnoxious colleague that she should obviously be with but who she hates right now. I wish it was a little more subtle but on a more positive note she's got a booty-call thing happening with a British colleague who's hot. So she's not asexual or anything. A girl of a certain size, age and race that has an active sex life and is desirable. That's nice. Anyhoo, I need to get back down to business but I'm taking this moment in lieu of a lunch break (Which I honestly rarely take- I just goof off intermittently through out the day). What should I eat? I hate everything around here so much now.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Possible New Job

So I got the second interview. I'm almost literally shitting bricks. Right this second, I'm fighting waves of nausea. My stomach started churning when I got the email even though I had been waiting for it. On the one hand, I'm jazzed right? So flattered that I'm one of the ones they picked. New job, new opportunities, new vistas, new challenges. But on the other, it's out of my comfort zone for realz: new expectations, new demands, new shit I don't know, new ways to disappoint. My therapist said everyone bullshits their resume- a lot of people aren't as qualified as they presented themselves to be. But I don't want to be a fraud. I don't want them to wake up six months from now and realize they made a mistake picking me. (If they do).

Also, I don't want to be a bad guy. It is just killing me. The prospect of having to tell my boss I quit is actually nauseating me. I don't want her to hate me. I want an amicable split. My therapist said that the reason I'm so panicked about this is because I don't have a man (I know that sounds crazy right? But follow the logic...) Shasta* says I'm feeling a sense of loyalty and commitment to this job disproportionate with what I should because I have no other outlet for those feelings. I'm clinging to this job because I'm not dating or anything so all that energy I'd normally be channeling into my romantic life is being diverted into my work one. And an "unnatural" (my words and emphasis not hers) fixation with my job and the people at my job- specifically Chelsie* is driving this fear to quit.

When she said it and I sat back and mulled over a bit, I could see truth in it. If I had a man and other foci what Chelsie thought of my departure probably wouldn't matter all that much. I mean yeah a little because of the implications it has on my ability to get recommendations from her in the future. But my emotions and sense of myself wouldn't be all wrapped up in there too like it is now. I literally do not want her to hate me- to be angry with me and feel like I abandoned her or left her in the lurch with no recourse.

I feel sick just thinking about it. I mean just imagining telling her I'm leaving actually makes me feel like I'm going to vomit. I'm pathetic.

So that said, my other concern is that I might deliberately but sub-consciously self-sabotage so I don't get offered this job. I told my therapist about that too- she said just don't do it. As if it was that easy. Just don't do it. Yeah so I'm going to spend the afternoon working on how to "just don't do it". Anyhoo, I was wondering if you recalled that really good questions that you've had? I have to attempt to knock it out of the park this time.

*Not their real names, of course.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Wedding Hangover

Despite dreading it on a level that was almost bone-deep, can I just say that having now participated in my good friend's wedding (bridesmaid #3 ya'll!! Woot! Woot!) I want someone else to get married stat? I want to go to another wedding! How crazy is that sh!t? Don't get me wrong, I don't want to BE in another wedding- that sh!t is for the birds- but I want to attend another wedding. It was all just so lovely and nice and happiness was in the air. It's like something bit me and now I've caught the bug. (sigh)

I wouldn't totally object to it being my own wedding (but since even if I went out on my lunch break now and met my beloved, we wouldn't be getting married for at least another year) I want someone to get married now. Like next weekend, or the weekend after that. You don't know of any weddings I could crash, do you?

I'm wearing the dress and earrings I should be wearing tomorrow, but I was being such a lazy bum I just put them on today. See, thing is Saturday is my mom's birthday and like last year, I'm taking her out tomorrow night to Blue Water Grill. This week at work we're supposed to be cleaning up in preparation for a move we have to make so that they can renovate our offices. When? You ask. NEXT year. Whatever. So this week, we can wear jeans and t-shirts- which I have basically been doing. But I couldn't find the Blondie t-shirt I wanted to wear today (I didn't really look for it, in all honesty) so I put on the outfit I was going to wear tomorrow. Cuz I'm a lazy bum with little foresight, and because all that means is I'm going to have to now spend time tonight trying to find a new outfit for tomorrow. Oh well.

In preparation for tomorrow, I went to the salon on my block (Ye Old "Apparently open 24/7 with the blinding lights in the middle of the night" Hair Shoppe) and had this chick named Khrystal or Kris wash and curl me. She charged me $45! I almost fell out of my chair. (I think she saw that too). I would have completely balked if I hadn't just paid my friend's friend Nicole $40 to do the same thing in Boston two weeks ago. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never see me in black salons. I can go to the Dominican ladies and they will wash and set me for $15! But the thing was I didn't want to be set. I wanted them to curl my hair with the curling irons. The Dominicans curl with the blow dryer. So I had no choice. But this girl Kris- who was really nice, btw- didn't do as good a job as Nicole did for $5 more. Plus she put a ton of product in my hair- so now when I touch my hair I pull back a hand filled with grease. Ugh. And the smell of the stuff is nice but nauseating after a while. You know?

She was nice and I came in late so I gave her a larger tip than I might have normally- being that I'm apparently a cheapskate. Anyway, despite the mountain of hold that I sprayed in it after I got home, the sheer volume of product that she put in it (which has my hair so shiny that my coworker wondered if I'd changed my hair color -ouch!) has made it resistant to the hold spray. The curl has been slowly falling out of it all day. I mean I know some of that has to be due to the level of humidity but still...d@mn man! I paid $45 for this sh!t. Oh well.

Friday, June 8, 2012

The Whiplash of the Past Week

I just got done with the annual weekend of Utter Craziness at my job. I do not wish that shit on anyone - though honestly it was a lot less pressure this year than most. The registration apparatus finally joined the 21st century and went online- which meant for the most part no one registering day of. Everyone was just picking up their items day of. I had to sit in the "problem room" which is alternately fun and no- fun. It's fun when no one comes in and it's just you and your wifi connection (which is for stretches of about ten to twenty minutes at a time). And I finally got on the HBOGO bandwagon (quietly TimeWarner must have decided to jump their asses on board and now we, TimeWarner HBO subscribers can have it too- they should be ashamed that we were some of the last cable subscribers to get it). But then sitting in the "problem room" is no fun because when people do come in it's because they have real problems. Of course it's usually their fault and so we have to be the ones to take the hard line and tell them no. (FYI - in general my office's unstated policy when dealing with its constituency is basically that we never say "no" to people- but since this is a legal thing having to so with alcohol -we have to draw the line). So that's fun- I'm being sarcastic- having to tell these spoiled, frequently rich and over privileged people, that the answer is "no". You can imagine how that goes over. Last year I actually had this weirdo harass me for a good hour until I had to call the cops. Niiice.

Anyhoo, after the general clusterfuck that that is (although as I said not so fuck-y this year- I know in part because I gave less of a shit than in years past), I hopped on that plane to Tampa Sunday afternoon. The pilot (a black man! I could tell just from his voice) had the "fasten your seatbelt" light on the entire flight. Yes there was turbulence but honestly- it never ended up being horrible. In fact the flight back was worse. Whatever. So the friend I went to visit Lovey*, had a major health-scare recently but is good (and in CT this weekend- by the way). I felt like a mama bear the whole time because I was so worried about her. She's all better to look at her but she's on a shitload of medication, some of which give her bruises all over her body. She is behaving like there's nothing wrong, and in a kind of a way that's good. She's living her life and everything but I worry that no one is looking out for her. She has a group that she runs with- they're all twenty-somethings (except for this white boy who's pants she's trying to get into). But I think with the exception of this one black girl, they aren't remembering that she's not at 100%. The black girl reassured me though. Swore that she was looking out and making sure Lovey didn't over do it. But what does that mean?

'Cuz for example here's Lovey's list of things she was planning to do if I hadn't told her she's lost her GD mind: Krav Maga, rollerblading, Ladies Night at the gun range, boxing and paintball. I managed to remind her that Krav Maga, paintball and rollerblading were an immensely bad idea for someone who has few blood-clotting factors and as a result bruises easily. The other ones she's definitely going to attempt. I tried not to Mommy her too much but honestly since I don't want my good friend to drop dead, I don't know how successful I was. (She claimed I wasn't that bad, but our mutual friend who'd visited a couple weeks earlier was better). I'd prefer to proverbially nag her to death than have her actually die.

Anyway, her apartment was nice, central air, small terrace, washer/dryer. She had art and posters she'd inheirited from her mom and dad all over the walls. And hand-me-down furniture from friends. But it was all really cute. Something you'd have paid at least thirteen hundred dollars for in the city (at least). She was paying, I think seven-something. It reminded me that as much as it breaks my heart I really have to start thinking about getting the hell of New York at some point. Overall, I was jealous- she doesn't actually realize it but it's a real grown-up's apartment. But you have to drive absolutely everywhere in Tampa- which sucks. And Tampa itself is completely uninteresting. It reminds me of Houston in that it's flat, blazing hot and a sea of concrete. It's totally unimpressive, which was disappointing. We went to St. Petersburg too- that was better. It reminded me of the nice parts of Ft. Lauderdale, where we drove around and there were shops and places to walk. I liked that. I don't think I would have wanted to live there but at least it's a spot I wouldn't mind visiting and it's directly on the water. Lovey likes it there too but it's a 20-40 minute drive from Tampa and her school. It's just a better idea for her to be within walking distance of school. She's driving her Dad's old Pontiac that gives her trouble occasionally and her doctor told her she shouldn't ride her bike anymore. So she needs to be close. Her lease is about to be up so she's thinking of moving even closer than she already is and into a two bedroom (only in places outside of NYC are those type of dreams even possible for a single girl making what we make- and technically I make more than her, oh the irony). So that was that. I want to go down again sometime relatively soon. I don't know why but I feel really protective of her right now.

Yesterday at work was busy but uneventful. In a real way I'm very happy about having applied for the other job (who haven't gotten back to me btw so I think that's a done deal) but in another way I feel really stupid. Because considering alternate employment has sort of made me resentful. I've been dissatisfied at work for a long time but I'm even more so now. It's like applying somewhere else woke me up. It's not good. The prospect of getting away from here has made everything and everyone get on my nerves just a little bit more than they might have normally. Truth told, I think that's why The Event didn't seem as horrible this year. I think I was thinking "This is my last year- so just let it go." I was resigned to the bullshit. This is a bad place to be mentally. I'm not saying I haven't been phoning it in for a while now but I'm really phoning it in now. I have to get back to the reality that this is my job. Or I'm gonna end up getting fired or some shit.

Well, enough of that. I wore a dress today in honor of having just seen Streetcar Named Desire with the incomparable Nicole Ari Parker and Blair Underwood. And of course Aunt Flo has decided to visit finally- she'd been announcing her imminent arrival since last week Tuesday. I don't know if this is always the case but my breasts are enormous this month. They're practically blocking my view of my feet! WTF! None of my bras fit. And then on top of it, because I've been binge eating, I've gained five pounds already. It's a tragedy- a travesty. I feel like a real girl this month (I don't menstruate often so it tends to be a novelty). It's weird.

*Her name's not Lovey

Friday, April 6, 2012

Scandal!

I’ve been waiting 7 months to watch Scandal, the new show from Grey's Anatomy scribe Shonda Rhimes and starring actress Kerry Washington. At first blush, I have to say I was a tad bit disappointed. I mean, it’s too soon for a verdict I know, but I already have strong opinions.

Did you watch it? I’m not going to spoil it if you haven’t but suffice to say that it’s classic Shonda- that’s not a compliment.

I, like every review I read, liked Kerry Washington. Although they needed to do something different with her hair- her forehead is too big for that half-bang thing she’s rolling with now. And she needs to gain a couple pounds, not a bunch, just a couple- she looks as the West Indians would say “maaga”. And if you look like you could use a meal on TV, then you need IV nourishment in real life, or a feeding tube. Also, I really hope that this is the only episode in which she constantly rocks that white trench- it’s a really nice coat but the way she whips around in it the whole episode, it makes her look like a cracked-out superhero-IMO. And then there’s the fact that besides her the only interesting people are the Scottish dude from Lost (Henry Ian Cusick), Columbus Short and Tony Goldwyn. Oh and the dude who used to be on West Wing but is a district attorney – or states attorney in this- he’s potentially interesting too. I want to see where their relationship goes or came from. Everyone is saying Shonda’s kinda copying West Wing but I think it’s a little of that and a little Good Wife too (they’ve even got a Kalinda-wannabe). There’s no character development in the first episode except for KW but I’m gonna give that a pass because it’s the pilot. Interestingly, the major sympathetic figure or audience identification figure is the white girl that KW hires- sight unseen- completely without obvious reason, like Patty did on Damages. Except you know Shonda can’t write in the same league as Damages so the explanation of why she was hired is so stupid, that it doesn’t bear repeating and more likely than not there will be no “real” reason added later. For all that, there’s actually only a smidge of Greys and unfortunately that smidge is one of the most annoying parts of Greys (in that they do the stupid repeating things eight times in one monologue).

Shonda needs to step back and let someone who knows how to write a show like this really get in it. The premise is good, the actors are good- but it’s gonna flounder if it doesn’t get some real teeth instead of the dumb Greys/PP veneers Shonda likes to work with. Don’t get me wrong, a little soap is good and juicy (and Shonda, IMO, goes hard with the major twist-ish thing- that true, if you’re paying attention you realize immediately in the premiere –but I mean it’s serious soap, like the industrial strength sh!t they wash cars with). Still, it’s gotta be more cleverly written without all the stupid moralizing and poor foreshadow/telegraphing she does in Greys/PP. It’s Washington DC and politics- it’s got to be dirty and immoral and darker. It can’t be cute. Shonda seems to be the only person writing for television currently that can make brown people palatable for white consumption, so she’s a good person to create and guide the show and Kerry Washington’s character arc but someone else needs to be writing the shows day to day. She doesn’t have the skill for anything that isn’t cute, melodramatic, romantic and/or sometimes comedic. I worry that she’s gonna make the same mistake that JJ Abrams made with Undercovers and in an effort to make the brown people in leading roles “safe”, make them facile and one dimensional, thusly undercutting the part of the show that actually makes it interesting.

In my humble opinion, this show could be AMAZING if someone like the Kings (who do The Good Wife) or whoever wrote Prime Suspect on NBC or even The Practice-era David E. Kelley was the showrunner. I believe that. The setup is good, the subject matter is deliciously bad, and the setting (ie. amongst the halls of power and privilege) is decidedly ugly. But I personally don’t think Shonda is equal to the task. And her margin of error is going to be decidedly smaller than it was with Private Practice and Off the Map, because the lead is black. Ironically, the only thing she has going for her right now, is that though the reviews haven’t been praiseworthy- most of the critics like the premise and they love Kerry Washington. I’m gonna tune in for a little longer to see if it gets better- or until the writing pisses me off sufficiently to make me stop watching.

If you saw it, what did you think?

Thursday, January 12, 2012

United Kingdom...Here I Come!

I'm in England! Because of the rain, they put me in the first thing smokin' to Toronto yesterday morning. It was bad because that plane basically took off on time which left me with hours to kill (8) before my connection. The immigration guy in Canada who was cute and super nice (can you imagine? Canadians.) Told me they don't usually even let folks back into the international connection area with that long a wait. So technically I should have had to go roam around Toronto for hours and come back...he didn't make me do that though. Hallelujah.

Eight hours later, I got a great seat by the bulkhead. (That's the first row of seats in a class, that has no one in front of you so you have the ill leg room). Let me tell you something: God has the ILL sense of humor. I prayed the night before last that I'd meet the kind of guy I could marry on this flight - literally prayed. In case you were ever in doubt-like Maxwell said, "don't ever wonder" about the highest of the high (totally bastardized that song, by the way). God hears all prayers and answers the select few. So did I meet anyone, you ask? OF COURSE I did! I prayed for it, didn't I?

I sat for eight hours on my flight vibing with a cutish white guy from some small town in Canada right across the river or lake or something from Detroit, who was super sweet and I later found out a fucking Rhodes Scholar! Let me help you out, in case you need it, there are only about 85 of them per year (from all countries -I bet I could Google him if I tried). And he's one of the super smart ones who didn't come from the Ivy League. It's not as if I could say I didn't get just exactly what I fucking wished for right? But guess what else? He's 24! I could see him trying to work out how old I was and his disappointment when he realized. (Which, in turn, made me look over his shoulder when he filled out his landing card to figure out how old he was...damn, damn, damn). That could just be life I was figuring, you know, fucking with me as per usual until he told me his name...it's Josh. (Only my dream lover's name and while I wait for him, also my DVR's name) That's how I know it was God. LOL!

Anyhoo, the plane got in a little after 5:30-6:00, the immigration line was ridiculously long. I told Josh it may have been one of the longest lines I've ever seen. (We stuck together through immigration, baggage claim and customs until we literally had to go in opposite directions). It took forever. So by the time, I'd done that and headed to the train, it was probably seven-ish. I got to Aunt's house by 8:30-9:00 I think. She made me a delightful English breakfast and I took a nap. (I am still whipped, but I could barely keep my eyes open then). But my sweetie pie (and namesake) Maryam is downstairs (she can talk now!) So I gotta go hang with her. I brought Finding Nemo and Monsters Inc. with me so maybe we can watch a bit. Write again later (maybe).