Quitting Time

Oh, Ke-Dollar Sign-Ha; of COURSE unicorns bleed rainbows! Why wouldn't they?

But on to the more important stuff--I turned in my letter of resignation to work last week. I know it's utterly absurd and perhaps not the most intelligent thing to do considering half of this blog is me whining about not being able to have a career in writing, but I have felt like I needed to do this for months. I'm tired of being chained ot the job; I haven't had a day off in 3 weeks. Sure the money is decent, but I end up pissing most of it away in cell phone calls from work and gas to drive there (seriously--according to my bank account's stats I spend over $200/month in gas to go to work, and when your checks average $800 that's quite a bit less all of the other bills that I've got). Essentially, this job has made me its bitch, and I'm not going to take it like a a whore anymore. I refuse to be anyone's catch-all/work horse any longer. After a year there I still don't have health insurance, or sick pay, or vacation time, or a damned raise. And for how much time I spend there I find it unacceptable.

I know that there are those out there who would just love to have income--They don't care about the benefits or the respect. But I'm the kind of person who will go work at Dick's Drive-In right now if it means that I can actually enjoy what I'm doing. The unique and perhaps freeing thing about being 24 years old with a one-year old undergraduate degree is that I don't have that dream career yet, so everything else is just filler. And if that's the case, I may as well find a job that doesn't make me want to vomit.

/rant

So, masses of the unemployed, I join you starting March 14. I've got copies of my resume' printed on fancy paper, a slew of acceptable interview attire, and 30 or so applications/resume' s submitted already via online resources like craigslist and WA State work source. Now it's just time to hit the pavement.

Side-Bar: Speaking of hitting the pavement, a very Happy 26 Birthday to my friend Ellen today! I'm sorry I can't be there with you, ninja-girl, but said mentally abusive job keeps me from doing so (another side-effect of working 6 to 7 days a week at 10 hours a day on a very regular basis).

Last night we stayed in and got some food from Thai of Wedgwood, which despite having been literally 2 blocks walking distance from our place all this time we've never actually eaten at. While I'm not a big fan of spicy, my garlic chicken was delicious and all I can say is that that was the best damned peanut sauce I've ever had, bar-none. We only spent about 30 bucks and got two main dishes, some satay, brown rice sides, and extra peanut sauce. Great value! I have like an entire freaking tub of brown rice and an entire jug of the sauce in our fridge at the moment and so now we're trying to decide how we want to combine these two delicious leftovers for a meal this evening. Suggestions, people of the Internet?


"Wiped out--
They could see me;
That's what I want.
A casualty, but, I am upfront,
And I know what it's about."

What's this aboot?

Josh and I just got back last night from an amazing 2-day trip to Victoria up in Canada. His grandmother (an amazing, nurturing, kind and classically classy broad by the name of Janice) surprised us with the trip on Christmas day. She truly is a remarkable woman. Her husband passed away this past year, and Josh took it really hard as the man was a very important father-figure in his life and present right from the start. You couldn't tell much that it's effected how she lives, though. She's active in her church, in her neighborhood, and she walks everywhere. She has an amazing perspective on life that's contagious when you're around her. It was so nice to just not worry about schedules, or fitting in life with work, or pace when she was with on this trip with us.

We took the ferry from Port Angeles, WA up to Victoria at 7am in the bitter cold, but just the ferry ride alone was spectacular. Having never been on any sort of water craft other than a little speedboat on a lake, I was blown away by the experience. I've always been fascinated and petrified of the ocean in equal parts; looking out at the gray vastness between WA and the city of Victoria I was struck by how small one could easily feel. I do think that experiences like that are needed to gain perspective. It's very easy to be very "me" focused in today's update-my-current-status culture, so being pitted against nature if only for the briefest of times does wonders for the mind and soul. I found myself very calm on that boat, holding on to Josh and staring out at the churning waters.

Victoria as a city reminds me a lot of San Francisco; they know that tourists drive their economy. The architecture is beautiful and is well maintained, the streets are clean, and there is little evidence of crime or major city-centric issues even when you walk a dozen blocks from all the major tourist attractions. We stayed at a hotel on Johnson just a few blocks walking distance from the major shopping districts and were a 5 minute drive from the water front, the famous Empress Hotel, and that bitchin' looking Parliament building.

Side-Bar: What is it with Canadians and their shoes?! We must've seen fifty shoe stores in the area right around the hotel. The "mall" was mostly shoe stores as well. It became a joke for our little group that maybe there is a massive, nation-wide shoe fetish? I've also noticed that when Cnaadians come down here to stay at the hotel it's always to shop no matter what time of the year it is and it's almost always for shoes. WTFrak? Anybody have any insight into this?




On Day One we walked around the downtown parts of the city, relaxed, and then went up to Buchart Gardens for a few hours. That place was incredible. I'm now at the age where I can appreciate walking around for long hours looking at trees and flowers, despite the fact that the ten year old whom lives deep inside my psyche was mocking me the whole time and wanting to watch re-runs of the 90s X-Men cartoon instead. Janice treated us to dinner at their amazing restaurant where I had salmon that didn't suck, which is hard to do when not cooking it myself. The service was great and the wine was awesome. We took several-thousand pictures there so when she gets them off her camera and on to the internets I may post some here.

Day Two was spent at the BC Museum of Natural History and wandering around the Empress pretending we were guests and going in places we weren't supposed to (why yes, the tea room does look quite nice and I do feel under-dressed for it with my 4-day unshaven look and my ratty-ass Cons...). The Museum was neat; they had a really great display that was sort of a "behind the scenes into science" thing but I'll describe mostly as dead shit in jars--Which is amazing and a little Lovecraftian.

Weird shit I noticed about Canada that fits the stereotype(s):

1)They apologize. A LOT.
I don't think I've ever heard that many parents apologizing to their kids as they discipline them before. "No, Hannah, it's too cold and I already told you you can't take your coat off. Sorry." I personally think adding on that little "sorry" all the time would sound so condescending that I'd want to murder everyone in Canada after about a week...

"No, I'M soh-ry."

2)Bryan Adams is a big fucking deal.
So are Alanis and Michael Buble. Seriously, I heard Alanis three separate times on various radio/shopping mall areas. And not new Alanis; classic Alanis. I was also convinced that if I herd Michael Buble's new single again I could successfully karaoke it.

3)Canadian men are either very outdoorsy/masculine or very foppish and waxed.
Thus my slender, tight jeans yet quite bearded look drew looks of confusion (amusement?) from the various ladies working at coffee shops and gay dudes hanging out around the gay bar down the street. "Who is this amalgamation of twink and straight-acting guy?! My SENSES ARE SHATTERED!!!!!"



All in all it was a silly, fun trip and a got to go on a boat. Great success! Now it's back to America so I can work my ass off and eat cheese and watch Sarah Palin be a dummy on television. God love this country.



"You'll make me work; so we can work to work it out.
And I promise you, kid, I give so much more than I get.
I just haven't met you, yet!"

Dollars and Nonsense

Today is going to be a productive day. There are things to purchase and things to do, and window shopping to be had. I need new jeans. And a new pair of boots. And a few new "cold weather" shirts and such. Losing weight is a bitch because while you feel great about yourself, a lot of your old clothes don't really fit the same. Yes I know that complaining about it makes me sound ungrateful and narcissistic, but it's a big problem when you have no fucking money, you know?

While we're speaking about clothing, have you seen Gap's new logo? It's disturbing. Not as disturbing as their call to "artists" to redesign the logo for them (Noam Chomsky's head must be imploding), but yeah--it's pretty offensive to anyone who appreciates, you know, things that look good. AdBusters is going to have a field day.

"Hello daddy, hello mom.

I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb."

Crawling out from under the rock...

...The rock, in this case, being work and everyting work-related.

My job became pretty hyper-stressful these past two months for several reasons: The first being when I found out that my wages had been lowered without my knowledge. I never thought I needed to check my rate of pay on my pay stubs, but one random glance one random day led me to discover that for 2 months my wages had been slashed. Which is illegal if no one tells you.

A long, arduous, 2-month battle with the hotel building owner later, and now I'm back to making what I rightfully should've been making in the first place (with a raise[!]). No wonder I was barely making ends meet for a while there, huh?

The next reason is because of our awkward transitionary phase. We're picking up in business, but we only opened 5 months ago, so we still have shit for employees. There aren't enough of us, so when something breaks down or someone gets sick everyone is royally screwed. We've only just recently hired a few extra housekeepers and an extra front desk person (thank God--I can actually have office hours in my shared office space!), yet there's still not enough equipment or funding to go around. It's absolutely insane and not in any way under my control, which is eternally frustrating.

The final reason is because I've been having some intense dreams recently. I haven't even told Josh about this because I don't want to freak him out. The reoccuring dream happens every few nights, and certain details are always a little different, yet the over-arching "story" of the dream stays the same:

In my dream, I have children. They keep telling me that they're hungry, so I keep making them food. Yet there's no food left in the house. I run frantically through the house opening doors and drawers and closets and cabinets but we have no food. So I go to check my bank balance online and I have negative however-many-thousands of dollars.

Sometimes, also, our cat talks to me and repremands me for doing a poor job of parenting.

Is my fear of growing older and feeling directionless when I'm 30 manifesting itelf in the form of these odd dreams where I'm broke and have no way of taking care of those whom depend on me? Probably. I hate feeling helpless, and stupid, and embarassed, so it only makes sense that I'd hate being broke with kids. Plus it doesn't help that in the dream my cat is a total bitch.

Anyway, it hasn't done wonders for my sleep cycle.

My battle with soda has continued. I've fallen victim to temptation at a friend's house a few times and had a can of regular Cherry Pepsi here and there, but other than that it's Diet soda all the way! Blerg.

Josh and I are doing well. We hit a bit of a bump recently but I feel like things are smoothed over. He's the one constant in my life, and I'm glad that I've got him. Few other things make me feel good after a long, shitty day at work than just being around him.

Thanks to my mom we now have nearly $500 worth of brand new living room furniture :) I'm really pleased with how it looks. I feel like we need to push the "modern, industrial forest" aesthetic a little further with some larger prints or some really gaudy pieces, but I dig everything about it thus far. I'll post pictures when I take some.

Now for lists.

Three Bands I'm Currently Over-Listening To:
1) Discovery
2) Sleigh Bells
3) Best Coast

Three Foods I'm Currently Overeating:
1) Bananas
2) Various Lean Pockets
3) Tortilla Chips

Three Things I Hope Happen:
1) Josh has a good birthday.
2) I get a bite on something--anything--that I've submitted to various editorial people.
3) I get tickets to the Capitol Hill Block Party (DEADWEATHER! BEST COAST!).

Three Things I Will Make Happen:
1) Call my mom back after a week's worth of phone tag.
2) Buy a wedding present for Josh's brother.
3) Write more, more, and more again.

Three People I Need to Call:
1) My mom (cheating on this one)
2) Alli
3) Julie

Three People I Need to Write:
1) Aunt Charlotte
2) Lindsay
3) Matt

I'll be posting wedding stuff soon, so get stoked for that :)


"Life has a funny way,
of sneaking up on you
when you think everything is okay;
then everything blows up in your face."

The Twitching Hour(s).

I think that between the hours of 12:30 and 2:30 at my job, I've achieved new states of boredom. I can't access Facebook on the business internet, which is unfortunate, but even then I think it would have its limits of any sort of entertainment factor.

Today has been exceptionally slow. Over half of a family reunion just checked out, and what was a group of 30 individual rooms is now down to around 10. They were all lovely people, for the most part, with nothing but good things to say. Which is rare given that in every family there are always the stcik-in-the-mud/no-way-in-hell-can-I-ever-be-happy types. Anyway, with those folks gone and very few arrivals today, my day has been spent doing little lame tasks just to stay active and keep me from standing still behind my desk. You can only mop, dust, and make a pot of coffee so many times before it just becomes redundant, you know?

The interesting thing about working in a hotel is that you get to see the real face of people. In retail everything is very simple; very transaction-based. Sure there are those customers that you really connect or bond with, but those are few and far between. In the hospitality industry you get an actual good sense of how people act privately as well as in public; it's not just their game face that they're wearing. I've met some very nice and kind adults since working here. I've also met some very spoiled, very self-righteous adults. The kind who can barely handle it when it takes an extra five minutes for a fresh pot of coffee to be made, or who can't follow simple instructions on how to log on to the hotel internets; they expect you to do it for them.

It's not just an American thing, either. Spoiled adults come from all nations, or so I've ascertained. Apparently there are no limits to how truly moronic one can be when they feel as if they've got no time to take a moment, breathe, and think something through before they complain about it. Can't get the door open? Stop shoving your card in, pause for a moment, and carefully/lightly swipe it one more time. Very simple if you just come down and stop acting like it's the biggest and most inconvenient thing in the world, ever.

I really do like my job, though. I don't see myself getting burned out on this industry as fast as I did retail.

Still, I hope that things perk up for me in the writing department. I've had a great time writing again for Mutineer and really hope it brings steady work, or at least work every now and then a few times a year. We'll see what comes of it . . .

. . . I really need a new pair of shorts. None of mine fit me anymore. But when you shoot from a waist size of 34 to a 28 or 29 in just a year, that's bound to happen. I really like this soft linen shorts I found at H&M; they come in khaki or in basic black and they're disturbingly comfy and very well-made. The next time I have thirty bucks, yeah?

I've successfully made the transition to a soda-less life, and I have to say it's been quite an experience. Not only do a find that soda is more convenient than a healthy alternative (seriously--this is another reason why America is obese), but that taste-wise it seems like they don't even want to make diet soda attractive in taste or visual aesthetics. Diet Coke is, I'm sorry, totally atrocious. Diet Dr. Pepper is fairly acceptable. Diet Sprite is my favorite so far in terms of taste. Diet Root Beer of the Barq's variety is absolute nonsense. And why do they even bother to make Diet Red Bull? It does absolutely nothing and, if you read the calorie count, has nearly the same as a can of normal Coke. Worthless! But I've stopped getting it at restaurants, and stopped buying it on-the-go for a pick-me-up, and we only have diet at home. And it's diet soda all the way at bars and clubs.

Speaking of, I really want to go dancing some time soon. Perhaps after I buy my new shorts? But shorts at a club is so blech, unless you're going for a beachy/nautical/I'm adorable and should be on a yacht a'la Nate Archibald from "Gossip Girl" sort of look.

My birthday is in two weeks. I don't know what's planned, but Josh assures me he has everything under control. The control freak in me wants to jump in and take over, but I really don't want to get in his way on this. I had a ton of fun planning his birthday last summer and Julie's birthday this past Novemeber, and I LOVED planning our Halloween Party . . . So part of me really wants to get involved, but it's sort of my birthday, which means I can't and shouldn't butt in too much. What worries me is that he's going to go overboard or stretch his mind and wallet so thin that it will depress him, and then put him in a shitty mood if everything isn't perfect. In reality all I want is just to be drunk with my friends.

24, 24 . . . Will it be different than 23? Sources say no, not really. I'll find out soon!



"Everyone's alive but ill.
Let's just take a deep breath,
And lock the doors so no one;
No one has to know.
I can say I'm doing well,
As long as, as long as I can see the room
From the graveyard shift."

That playlist I promised, and a few other things of note.

This is a "blog housekeeping" post, meaning it feels a little arbitrary but comes from a place of sincerity.

- So here's that playlist I promised several weeks ago; it's my "I get up at 5:30 so I can drive north on I-5 all groggy like clutching a cup of coffee and trying not to crash my car and make it to work on time by 7" playlist. Or, as it is labeled on the CD,

Ryan Goes to Work:

"Everybody Say" by Takka Takka

"Nick and Norah's Theme" composed by Mark Mothersbaugh

"In a Cave" by Tokyo Police Club

"Hard to Live in the City" by Albert Hammond Jr.

"Lights Out" by Santigold

"Ticking Clock" by Sisero

"Again and Again" by The Bird and The Bee

"Catch my Disease" by Ben Lee

"Every Time" by Lincoln Hawk (not a real band)

"Some are Lakes" by Land of Talk

"What I Am [cover]" by Emma Bunton

"Talk Show Host" by Radiohead

"Piazza, New York Catcher" by Belle and Sebastian

"When I Come Around" by Green Day

"Needle in the Camel's Eye" by The Wolfmen

"Plea from a house cat named Virtue" by The Weakerthans

"Racing Lights" by Stars of Track and Field

"Happiness" by Goldfrapp

"Acid Tongue" by Jenny Lewis

- Also, I have friends visiting from out-of-town this weekend and I couldn't be more stoked if I were at Disneyland chowing down on chicken tacos and a chocolate/vanilla swirl ice cream cone. Although that would be pretty damn awesome.

- Also, I finished that Chuck Klosterman book and thought it was only okay. Not as fresh feeling as Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs or as snarky in a fun way as IV, but somewhere in-between. At the end I was left wanting a bit more, and wondering if I'd really learned anything about anything other than just how the author feels about love, death, and Radiohead (I mean, the bits about Radiohead really are brilliant and insightful, but a tangent is a tangent is a tangent). I also have come to despise his critics--Not those who blast him, but those who praise him. His writing is great, but god damn it all he's not the next Hunter S. Thompson. He's a smart guy, but this narrative is not the front-runner of a new wave one might callously refer to as "modern gonzo journalism." Just because you don't get it doesn't mean it's Fear and Loathing. Stop pretending like you've read anything by Thompson, and stop pretending you care that Salinger is dead. FUCK.

- Okay, on a lighter note, it's Easter candy season, which means my love has returned to store shelves:

- So some of you out there might have cats. Answer me this, readers--Does your cat sometimes sit in the middle of the room in the sunlight and just meow and meow and meow for an unknown reason? I mean my god, I'm right here in plain view and there's food in the bowl and water in the bowl and what could she possibly need? Is she just validating her existence by proclaiming "I am here!" the only way she knows how or is there a more desperate and sad meaning to these cries? I need a book on cat dementia.

"Bitter heart, bitter heart tries to keep it all inside.

Bitter heart, bitter heart--The shadows will help you try and hide.

Bitter heart, bitter heart is getting just a little fragile.

Bitter heart, this bitter heart o' mine."

One state, two state, red state, blue state.

It's so weird being considered the "insider" by people whom haven't lived in Seattle before.

For example we have friends moving here some time in the summer/fall, and so of course they ask us umpteen questions daily about the area, the rent, the weather, etc. etc. In some ways this, of course, makes me feel important. And one of my major flaws is that I like to feel important (just ask my boyfriend--I imagine it drives him nuts [though I think that this need to be seen as reliable/important/informed/self-assured is one of the reasons I adapt to new environments so easily and will move through the ranks of a career path at a quick pace if given the opportunity to do so; so maybe this bad habit isn't such a bad thing?]). I walk a fine line of self-indulgence when I dish out advice like potato salad to out-of-towners. After all, I've only lived here for 9 months.

There are so many things that I'm still learning about this city, yet so many things I feel like I know already. I have pizza preferences. Coffee preferences. Sushi preferences. Neighborhoods where I will and won't go out (love it in Fremont, hate it in Pioneer Square will pretend to like Bellevue). Are these all subject to change? Well of course. But these preferences developed so subtley over time I hardly noticed them until I really started to think about it.

Or maybe this all has to do with the fact that I registered my car last weekend, finally, in the state of WA. I'm now totally and certifiably legal in the state, mostly. Another piece of me becomes another part of another state. I'm like a puzzle of the western United States, or maybe I'm just a piece of that puzzle and there's no puzzle glue left to hold it all together. So I guess that makes me a Washingtonian-by way of Idaho-by way of Nevada-by way of Californian? I can't wait to vote for things in places. And have an opinion on the assorted taxes and property values. And complain about out-of-staters in a baseless, accusatory, and often narrow fashion.

I feel a bit smarmy today. Maybe it's this cold I'm fighting? Maybe.


"And she has never seen traffic lights,
Lifts or escalators, or loads of strawberries
In the mouths of light entertainers."

But then again, maybe?

I have to say, I really like the set schedule that my new job provides. Being out of the office at 3pm daily (or earlier depending on my workload) and having weekends off has been absurdly great.

The only bitch of it all has been getting up at 5:30 am every day to make it to work on time (7am). I don't know why, but for some reason my normally 15 min.-long solo showers have turned into 25-30 min. showers at this time of the day. I seemingly zombie-out when the water hits me, I think. Perhaps I should invest in a shower timer?

As long as I have my coffee, nobody gets maimed.

I've made a mix for the drive to work in the wee hours when traffic light and it's still dark out. Unfortunately I'm not at home so I don't have it with me. I'll post it when I have access to the playlist on my iTunes.

So I'm reading Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself to Live right now and so far it's enjoyable. I really liked his more recent book IV and generally find his observations very poignant and almost-always absolutely true. He's also a writer who's very aware of his voice and his viewpoint, and doesn't lose sight of either even when writing about or for others. I'm only a few chapters in to KYTL, so my observations at this point are pretty limited and perhaps even unjustifiable until I've read the piece as a whole, but I do have one main criticism thus far: The writer knows he's famous.

It's this weird thing that writers do after they've become a household name--It's not arrogance per se, or some sort of implied superiority to the reader. It's the tone that becomes so matter-of-fact and literal that the writer-as-narrator becomes almost untrustworthy. I find myself thinking "is that really how it is, or just how you perceive it?"

This tone is just fine when a writer claims to be the informed and reliable narrator from the get-go: Political pundits whom write books do this all of the time. We know that Ann Coulter is writing her book to be self-serving and from the viewpoint that she's onehundred percent right and informed before we've hit page 2 (or lately even before we've opened the damned book).

With a writer like C.K., however, his tone throughout the book is often self-reflective and at times even a little self-deprecating. He writes himself as the "every man, regular guy" who his readers can and should identify with. He might not think like us, but his experiences are our experiences and his interactions within his culture are ours as well. He is his reader. And maybe that's the problem?

Thus, when he slips into that tone of "here's how it is, and if you don't know about it or don't agree then you just don't get it" he actually does come off as the aforementioned arrogant fop. His readerhip doesn't like being talked down to any more than I'm sure the writer does. It's that self-awareness of celebrity and (dare I use the term?) "value" as a brand name moreso than an individual that causes this shift; at least that's what my perception is. The writer knows you'll read his book because he's the writer, so of course you trust him. If you don't, then the book is just not for you and why are you reading it, then?

Anyway, this is just an observation made about an entire work in just a few chapters. Maybe it gets better? Maybe the tone shifts will become a central and important part of the narrative? I'll wait and see. The subject matter is too good to pass up, and I don't have anything else to read right now.



"Well all right, so I'm being foolish.
Well all right, so then let people know
About the dreams and wishes you wish
In the nights when the lights are low."

And sometimes, humanity can still surprise me.

For those of you who "don't believe" in Valentine's Day, I'd like to share something.

Click here and prepare to be uplifted--No, it's not porn or spam or a Rickroll or a Fail Whale!

Every time I feel that the world has sort of let me down, something like the above link comes along and makes me feel as though life is actually worth every meaningless, sardonic, melancholic, tense, wonderful, terrible, and heartbreaking second.

Happy Valentine's Day!

"Tomorrow's back to work and down to sanity.
Should run a bath and then clear up the mess I made before I left here;
Try to remind myself that I was happy here,
Before I knew that I could get on the plane and fly away."

Three

Lots of things come in threes, or so they say (who "they" are is subject to much speculation and, sometimes, suspicion). Deaths, births, good things, bad things, numbers, signals, signs, yaddas . . . Everything comes in a set. One, two, three.

Here are some threes for me.

Three Things Non-Football Related I learned From The Super Bowl:

1. Dan Marino needs to lay off the spray tan.

2. Charles Barkley needs to lay off the damn $5 Dollar Boxes.

3. Betty White makes everything funnier by sheer presence alone.

Three Movies I watched Recently:

1. Julie and Julia

2. Smokin' Aces

3. Summer of Sam

Three Words to Describe Those Movies Listed Above (in order):

1. Sweet

2. Rushed

3. Cocaine

Three Things I'm Currently Obsessed With (or still obsessed with):

1. The idea of a cultural snapshot of America: New York City in 1977.

2. Brecken Meyer's adorable everything.

3. Boddington's in a glass.

Three Things I Bought At The Grocery Store Today:

1. Bananas

2. Ramen (chicken flavored)

3. Nonfat milk

Three Reasons Why I'm in Love:

1. Wrestling matches that turn into tickle fights that turn into sex that turn into tickle fights.

2. Morning coffee and The Daily Show reruns on hulu.

3. The ability to casually make fun of others without having to exchange words or gestures, only glances (see also: "relationship telepathy").

Three Songs I Keep Listening to Again and Again:

1. "What I Am [cover]" - Emma Bunton

2. "Machine Gun" - Portishead

3. "Hard to Live in The City" - Albert Hammond Jr.

Three New Facts About Me:

1. I quit my retail job last week.

2. I have to dress up for work now!

3. I paid a traffic ticket I never should've gotten in the first place.

Three Old Facts About Me That Loosely Relate to the Three New Facts About Me:

1. I'm in love with learning about, reading about, hearing about, talking about, and experiencing new music.

2. I really hate to iron.

3. I'm so broke it hurts.

Three Things That Happened at The Gay Bar on Saturday:

1. Some guy asked me if he could cut my hair.

2. I ran into someone whose name I remembered, but that was all. This person then proceeded to recite my life story, vital stats, and employment history like a damned personal Wikipedia. It made me feel terrible.

3. People fell down.

Three Short-Term Goals:

1. Get back to every-other-day blogging.

2. Complete a regular push-up regiment.

3. Get my oil changed.

See? Like I and also "they" said: Lots of things come in threes. Would this have been more insightful if I'd done lists that totaled in a number evenly divisible by three? Or is it more insightful that I thought of this after the fact? I'll have to mull that one around for a bit.

"Well I went to bed in Memphis,
And I woke up in Hollywood.
I got a quarter
in my pocket
And I'd call you if I could ."

More of being inspired...

Here are some more inspirational images that will (hopefully) lend to the re-design of my corner of the internets. My very talented boyfriend is hard at work trying to form a cohesive design based on my tastes, the images I've collected, and the fact that I have ideas but do not know how to express them in a designer's verbiage.

Lately I'm pathetically obsessed with pop-culture from the years 1968-1980. Is it a phase all twentysomethings must go through? Are our interests and likes a product of our own cultural zeitgeist? But then again I've always loved Warhol (had a print of his when I was 12) and the first pin I ever purchased for my backpack way back in high school (I had a Dickies brand messenger back in 10th grade that ended up covered in pins and patches--so rebellious and outspoken was I at the age of 15!) was the image of Debbie Harry seen above. I wonder wonder wonder why the past appeals ot me so much when I'm trying to cement myself in the future?

"Bat your eyes girls,

be otherworldly,

count your blessings,

seduce a stranger."

Oh, baby.

So my friend Lindsay found out yesterday that she'll be having a baby boy. Congrats, hon. We've come so far together from this:



Baby Lindsay, Baby Ryan, and other Moscow pals drinking illegally in 2006!!!!


To where we are now, having kids and growing up. When I think of the ridiculous times that we shared together and all the tough stuff we went together as well, it really makes me appreciate how far we've all come as people. Hopefully even after you're a mom there can still be time for giant jugs of Carlo, curly fries, and driving around shouting "penis" to random pedestrians.

I can't wait to be an uncle!

Mash-Ups are something I'm musically interested in at the moment. Well, that and 70s-era punk rock and glam rock, but that's a whole other Patty Hearst lovin' blog, isn't it? In terms of the best mash-ups of 1009 I'm going to recommend my favorite 2: "Party and Bullshit in the USA (Biggie Smalls/Miley Cyrus)" by Hathbanger and "Call Me Uprising (Blondie/MUSE)" by CjR Mix. Seriously, if you like good music, you'll go download those songs right the hell now.

Anywho, the search for meaning continues as I get shot down by yet another job that I've applied for. This communications position with a counseling center as the fastest turn-around of rejection, and I'm not sure that's such a good thing. At least I didn't have to play the waiting game this time, right? However my 30-40 hour a week retail job that barely gets me by has finally stabilized. The holidays are over, things have settled down, and now our inventory looms at the end of this month. I feel way more confident right now in this position, and I think I'll be seeing my probationary period through with minimal scarring (physical and emotional).

Current plans include a wedding expo in 2 weeks (I know, I know--but coupons! and absurd straight girls going bat-shit-nutty over obscenely priced dresses! and cake samples!), getting my brakes finally fixed, and making plans for February to travel. Don't know where yet. I'll keep the internets updated.


"Don't want to leave you,
Don't want to stay here,
Don't want to spend another day here.
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna sit now;
I just can't quit now."

New

Happy 2010, internets!

Yup, that happened. I'm still in that weird sort of funk where it doesn't feel like anything has changed and maybe it should really just be December 34th instead of January 3rd? It's funny that we all get so worked up over the new year and then January sort of happens and it's more of just this shift back to the day-to-day normalcy that we had as Americans before Halloween time and the perpetual merry-go-round of holidays and special occasions that follow. The only difference is that now we have to break up the monotony somehow lest we lose that glow we got from the holidays we're so desperately clinging to. And how do we do this? Why, resolutions of course.

Here are mine, for what it's worth:

1) write once a day, be it in my journal or this blog or even on a sticky note

2) apply for at least one career-based job a week until I manifest one

3) maintain the weight that the BMI indicates as healthy for a guy my age and height (between 130 and 140 lbs.)

4) pay down my credit card to half its limit

5) save $50 a month towards a honeymoon

Those are the realistic ones. My non-realistic resolutions (what I like to call EXTREME resolutions) are these:

1) learn how to practice telekinesis

2) save $150 a month towards a honeymoon

3) sleep with this--


4) figure out a way to drive my car without using gas

New Years Eve itself was actually pretty great this year. Our friend Julie had a party at her place, and a ton of people showed and dressed fancy and got sloppy (fancy attire and sloppy/hot mess drinking is my favorite combination when it comes to partying, incidentally). We drank too much champagne and took a ton of inscrutable photos and watched the ball drop. I was reminded the next morning as I awoke with a bad case of dry mouth and headache that I gave a speech to the party about "friends and permanency" that I don't remember giving--it's sadly not on film, otherwise I'd post it here. I can only imagine what the contents of said speech were, but I'm guessing that it was probably, mostly, nonsensical.

Like this blog, no?

So bring it on, 2010. The first full year out of college for me, and the first year that I've got as an "adult" to figure things out. With a fresh set of eyes and the tiniest bit of that glow left stashed in my other pants, I'm ready for newness.


"Your name on my cast and my notes on your stay
Offer me little but doting on a crime.
We've turned every stone and for all our inventions
In matters of love loss, we've no recourse at all."

Post-Game: Christmas 2009

"Not with a bang, but a whimper" comes to mind when thinking about Christmas form this year. Thank you, Mr. Churchill. I suppose when I reflect on December I see it as sort of a rushed month was frenzied, manic, and then just sort of tripped and fell down, nodding off quietly.

Let me explain.

Christmas shopping this year was sort of a fine line between "how can I spend little money" and "how can I not look like a cheap git," which is a dangerous line to walk. I actually made a list of those who I'd be buying gifts for and those who'd get cards, and for once in my life having this sort of "pre-game" list helped me accomplish my goals.

Side-Bar: From time to time I'll use football analogies in my writing, especially in more personal/relaxed writing styles such as this blog. Football is something I'm comfortable with. It's something that I actually know things about. So please grin and bear it when I use these decidedly sport-y terms in a less than sport-y context (my blog, that is).

By forcing myself to go a simpler route with Christmas this year, I actually feel like I got more done and gave more of myself. Josh and I decided that our closest circle of friends (read: those who live here in Seattle and can actually get their gifts without having to receive them in the mail) were all going to be receiving ornaments from us. This not only allowed us to spend less than $10 per person, but allowed us to really have fun with our shopping. I feel like everybody got something unique and specific to our relationships together. Ornaments were definitely the way to go.

For my family, I decided to simply get them all a personalized gift that they could actually use. Without going into detail, this practice of "give them something they will use on a regular basis" really did work. I think the gifts I gave made an impression.

For the gift wrapping itself, Josh and I opted to go with a theme (which isn't as obnoxious as it sounds): "Parcel." The inspiration was the parcels/packages system used at the turn of the century and later revived during Depression era America--brown paper, simple twine, practical application.



I give credit to Josh for the actual wrapping process, as he's a much better wrapper than I. I simply don't have the patience or skill for certain artistic processes.



Affordable and adorable. Like moi.

We went to my parents' home the weekend before Christmas for 3 days, and spent a quiet Christmas day together here at home. It was really nice to just enjoy each other for a day, not put on real clothes until 3pm, take a walk through our neighborhood right at dusk arm in arm, and then have a relaxing dinner for two. Josh made an amazing roast in his new enameled, cast iron pot and some homemade scalloped potatoes. Red wine sealed the deal.

It really was a great day.

I didn't have any major meltdowns at work all season, which was nice, but more and more I find myself wanting to transition out of my current job into something else. Anything else. Even for less pay. It's been 3 years with this company, and I've got great benefits, and a decent wage, so what's the deal? Am I merely just the type of person who always needs something new in order to keep myself entertained or fulfilled? My job really isn't so bad. It's not what I have my degree in, but it pays the bills and is usually a little fun.

Yet more and more I just feel like I need to pick a direction and just start walking in it, even though I don't know what direction or where it leads or why.

Is this what they call ennui? If so, I'd like to bottle it and sell it.

Anywho, Christmas is now over, and the New Year lurks in the short-term. I have no idea what the plan for New Years' Eve is yet, but I do know that I want to go out and raise some hell in this city. It's been too long since I've been down amongst my fellow rabble. I wonder what I should wear?

There's that ennui again . . .

"Do it again and I'll see you tomorrow.
I want to get it. You've got something to borrow.
Give me, give me you right on my own.
And when I see you all again.
I buy it but it don't measure up.
What is the missing ingredient?"

Stop and smell the somethings.

Life is full of beautiful, weird, and surprising little moments that you don't realize are happening until they've already happened.

Like when you watch a movie from years ago that you haven't seen since you were a kid, and you understand a joke in the movie that you didn't get before (example: all of the references to Streisand's 'Funny Girl' that happen in 'Mrs. Doubtfire').

Or when a song you're listening to in your car has a beat that matches the motion of the windshield wiper blades (The Pierces' "Boy in a Rock N' Roll Band" goes great with the second setting in my car).

Or when you see a small child randomly grab ahold of their parent and tell them "I love you" for seemingly no reason, right there in public, with little motivation to do so.

Or when you sit down with a glass of wine and three Advil at the end of a shitty day at work (my "bad day at the office" regiment) and let out that first sigh of relief because you're at home, in a safe place, and no longer at the mercy of the world's assholes.

I've started to write these moments down as soon as I can remember them. They might creep on to this blog from time to time. You have been warned.

PS-Go watch the Lady GaGa/Beyonce video for Beyonce's new song "Videophone" because it too is one of life's weirdly beautiful little moments. The song isn't half bad, either.


"I heard you crying loud
all the way across town
You've been searching for that someone,
and it's me out on the prowl
As you sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The Life Elusive

Gah! Nearly a whole month without blogging? Shame on me. Not that this is inconsistent behavior for me, mind you, but still...

...Actually it sort of fits a behavioral pattern of mine. I always say "I'm going to go do this" and then about two days later I reflect "man, I should've gone and done this." I can blame finances for this current pattern of forgetful missteps--After all, it's hard to be gun-ho about errands and appointments when you're rationing out your bank account daily (if I put ten bucks in my tank, then I have 5 bucks to buy some groceries the day after that, which leaves me 7 bucks to use on a haircut).

However lately the issue with my lack of sterling savings has become more of a crutch (read: excuse) for anything that doesn't seem to go my way. "Well I'm poor, which is why I couldn't afford to drive out to the so-and-so writer's exhibit to network with other writers." It's a lame excuse, really albeit completely understandable. It's one thing I need to change about my life right now.

Another change is that in the past 2 months I've done less exploring of this city I call home. We've lived here for almost 6 months (I know right?) and yet things have sort of fallen flat in terms of checking things out and experiencing new things. Of course finances, once again, can be blamed for this (for consistency reasons). Thus I've decided that every time we get paid, Josh and I are going to have a "date night" somewhere in the city. We'll either shake the ol' Urban Spoon application or hit "random" on 'The Stranger Online' restaurant search engine, set a limit of 2 $$ signs out of 4 $$$$ signs, and then hit the town. The catch is that we'll never go to the same place twice.

Is there a nice sense of comfort in a new place that comes with going to the same places? Sure thing. But even the delicious nom-noms of Jet City Pizza, The Wedgewood Broiler, and I HEART Bento get repetitive after several visits.

Halloween was an absolute, balls-out blast. The Friday beforehand was spent working (of course) during the day and then partying by night. Together with our friend Julie and her boyfriend (also named Ryan, because in my circle of friends there are two of every animal), we went to this surreal warehouse party sponsored by Jones Soda and RIDE Snowboards. I use the word "surreal" because it felt like we were in an episode of 'The Real World' or 'Gossip Girl' or some such glitz-o-rama, fantastical alternate universe. Not only was it in a warehouse in Fremont, but there was no cover charge, free beer(! And it was Pyramid Ale!), free music, free stuff (I won a belt and Josh won a tee shirt), and some guy walking around taking pictures of neat costumes. For our part, we were dressed up as "horror dandies." Meaning gruesome costumes and makeup with fancy attire. I was a skeleton, Josh was a werewolf, Julie was a traditional, Dia De Las Muertas inspired zombie, and otherRyan was a hanged man. The aforementioned fellow taking pictures stopped us and said something like "nice theme!" and proceeded to take several photos for some unknown web site. We're still not sure who he was with or where those photos are posted, actually...

I spent Halloween itself working late into the night and then house partying. Nothing to write home about other than it's nice to be welcomed by other pseudo-adults into a house party where there are both fancy, vegan appetizers and beer pong in the same room. It was a real testament to the stage of life we're all in at the moment: Somewhere between stuff-shirt cocktail parties and spewing in the street after too much binge drinking.

Josh and I went over to West Seattle a few days ago to pick up his art that was showing in the art walk during September/October. No buyers, but a lot of "interest" in his pieces, and exposure is absolutely necessary even if monetary rewards don't emerge as an outcome. We stopped in a record store on California Ave. while we were down there. I don't remember the name of it, but there were also sandwiches and coffee at a cafe inside of it. This bears further investigating.

I think I'm going to make a mix for my friend Alli and try to send it across the Pacific to her in Korea. It's times like these that messenger pigeons would be really cool. Or if I could somehow be assured that if I put it in a bottle and threw it in the sea, it would was ashore just seconds from her apartment building, then I would totally message-in-a-bottle her. I think I;d have to put the mix on a flash drive and put it in the bottle, though. I don't think a CD would fit in there.


"You want me?
Fucking well come and find me.
I'll be waiting
With a gun and a pack of sandwiches.
And nothing."

I go a' walkin' . . .

So I recently finished the entirety of Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman" comic books in their collected forms, and have lately had a weird sense of ennui. Why am I here? Where is this going? What's next for me? Has my life really been reduced to a series of waiting games between paychecks and trying to figure out if I can afford to go out for cheap sushi or a drink?

The answer to all of these questions is the same one: Yes and No.

Yes I am here (and no I'm not). Yes, this is going somewhere (but right now it's not). Yes, something is going to happen next (and no, I won't be able to see what it is). Yes, I play the waiting game and must strain my resources between paychecks and no, I don't exactly hate it. Yes I love cheap sushi and cheap booze. No, I shouldn't spend the money on those things.

Gaiman did a great job of telling stories that were about stories. There were all sorts of stories happening within each other, twisting and turning and tying together in ways that were both telegraphed and unexpected. It's difficult to really understand the enormity of what he wrote. I've read several of those volumes more than once and I still can't quite grasp it all; meaning is right there out of the corner of my eye, and when I turn to look it's completely gone.

Meaning.

So now I wonder where my story goes, or if there is a story to tell at all. I can romanticize it or tell it like it is. Or maybe there's a romantic beauty in just telling it like it is. "What is, is." I'm not sure if there's going to be anything to tell as life continues on for me, but when it does, I'm going to tell it here.

And that's the answer for now.


Spaces and places and faces and traces,
They turn and they turn,
And they all go to pieces.
And I can't describe
What's in front of my eyes.
It's just you.

Fall and Fall things.

Autumn/Fall is my absolute favorite season. A lot of great things have happened to me in the Fall, and a lot of great things happen every Fall regardless. Now that my engagement along with the beginning of Josh and I's relationship is synonymous with the season, it's even got sappy undertones.



Fall's got great beverages like apple cider and orange cocoa and stuff made with rum. It's got great food that you can feel guilt-free about. It's got great movies (our Netflix queue has been dominated by horror and thrillers lately--"The Thing" remake, "Adams Family Values" and "The Unborn" are on their way today). It's got such a friendly atmosphere that Winter can almost match, but only barely.

The thing about Winter is that while the holidays generate that warm and fuzzy feeling in us all, there's still that undertone of commercialism and panic that comes with this need to give and create perfection amongst complete and utter chaos. Anyone who has worked retail during the Christmas season will tell you this--9 hours a day on your feet helping ungrateful people will suck the spirit of the season right out of you, even if you're wearing a gold lapel pin that lights up and plays "Carol of the Bells."

However there's no such obligation during Fall (save the end of the season when American Thanksgiving transitions us into Winter). Yet doesn't it seem like everyone seems friendlier or happier or just a bit more cheerful? It's this electricity in the air that can't be matched. A sense of fun and carefree and routine, really, that's left over from the Summer and needs to burst into the atmosphere before Winter forces us all indoors and out of each other's way. The Fall is our last chance to get out and do something; to travel or take a walk with short sleeves on or get out of the house on a daily basis. It's this unspoken energy that runs along the surface of the days in the Fall that truly makes me love the season.

Not to mention that for Seattle, we've had an absolutely beautiful Fall this year.



Next weekend we're driving out to Coeur d'Alene to see my family. I'm hoping the weather stays strong for our trip. 7 hours is a long drive, but it'll be worth it to see them all for a bit. My family decorates the hell out of their home for Halloween, and I can't wait to see what absurdities my dad has created this year. I have such vivid memories of getting bundled up and decorating the outside of the house with him (really, I'm sure I was running around and un-boxing decorations and causing more distractions then help--yet he still let me "help" in my own way). Although when I was very young it was more likely an apartment or two bedroom rental or duplex; we lived in so many homes when I was small, but my family managed to make every single one feel as homey as possible. Decorating it for Halloween was one way that my parents maintained that sense of normalcy for me.

After an hour or more or when ever the serious decorating had to begin, my mom would scoop me up and put me inside with some apple cider and a snack, and leave me with the television playing Halloween-themed Disney cartoons while she went outside to help my dad finish. I was a pretty self-sufficient kid, or so I've been told. My parents couldn't have been much older than Josh and I are now; they were so young. it would be neat to go back and see if they were anything like us in those early days, fresh out of school with a kid and not much money and not much of a life plan, either.


"I'm dead babe; dead as dead can be.
It's all because a zombie ate me.
You loved me when I was alive,
But now you see that I'm on the other side.
I still wanna go out with you,
But there's something that you've gotta do.
Give your life up and over to me.
Come on, you'll see how happy we can be."

A huge gap in time means a HUGE blog entry, yes?

Hello, internets!

It's been a while since I've blogged. Well, 3 months to be exact. I have no one but myself to blame for this, as it's been my laziness compounded with my busy work schedule and the fact that I'm in a new place where a social life is not just a dream but a bank-account devouring reality that has kept me from documenting my Post-Graduate Experience here at The Present Tense.

Maybe I need to hire a staff writer to help me maintain things? I can twitter about what's happening and that said writer can gather up all of my tweets and meld them into a discernible blog entry form his/her position chained to my desk with a bed pan secured safely beneath their seat.

Or I could just update more.

In the spirit of open and honest communication, if I don't blog on a more regular business and you're out there reading this, please write me an e-mail or send me a message on Facebook telling to stop being such a lazy ass-hat and do some writing, won't you? It could help me more than you realize.

Let's back-track to some cold, hard facts about my life right now:

1) I'm broke. My job is great and there are plenty of hours to go around so I do spend most of my time working, however I've been just about breaking even every month once bills are paid off. My savings account is mostly drained (wouldn't mother be proud?) and the student loans are really putting a strain on all things fun and entertaining. I get coffee and movies with my friends. A lot. And sushi! Ah, to be in a city where you can get good sushi is something that's been just a pipe dream until moving here. And speaking of moving . . .

2) . . . I love it here. Seattle was just the remedy for that melancholy, mopey and morose mood that I'd been in all Spring (what's with the alliteration there, Dr. Seuss?). I've lost weight, I feel healthier, I'm around a diverse mix of people with different backgrounds and viewpoints on a semi-regular basis, and I live within walking distance of a Starbucks. Also I can actually take part in an active music scene because, lo and behold, there IS one! I've gone to more live shows and bigger concerts in these past few months than I had all year last year. I've had the privilege of seeing No Doubt, The Sounds, and The Dead Weather as well as some fantastic local acts like Rising Tides and Ada Loveless (both completely blogworthy, although the former is sadly breaking up quite soon). So despite the fact that I'm financially ruined at the moment, my rose-colored glasses remain firmly in position.

3) I'm engaged! It still seems surreal. Josh proposed on our fifth year anniversary while we were making a trip to Leavenworth (which for those out there who don't know is a Bavarian-themed village about 2 hours East of Seattle that is essentially a piece of Disneyland that was cut off from the main host body and wandered out to the Pacific Northwest to spawn [in a very John Carpenter-esque way I might add]). There are pictures from that day, and I will post them when I remember to (perhaps tomorrow).

So that's what's going on with me.

The job hunt is still active, though I did take a break from it in September to relax. I've sent out many a resume and many a groveling letter begging for even non-paid volunteer work, yet have heard nothing back. Twice I received a response asking for writing samples, and twice did I sent some, and twice was I left with no further correspondence. It's a rough time to be a liberal arts major right now, to be honest. We're a dime-a-dozen, especially in a city like Seattle. So the search for meaning continues, albeit slowly and with little luck, but thankfully my folks have been so busy dealing with keeping the business afloat and several deaths in the family (a separate blog entry altogether for another time) that they've stopped breathing down my neck about what's next . . . Sort of. I completely understand their apprehension, and with promises of my application to UW for a graduate program in Communications or English they're satiated for the moment. Still, for my sanity and theirs I hope that something comes along in the "soon" region of time.

By the way, this makes the baby Jesus cry.

I leave you now with some pictures of our new place here in Seattle (as promised back when we moved in 3 months ago), and some words of wisdom.







I'm broke but I'm happy.
I'm poor but I'm kind.
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded.
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed.
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to,
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine;
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket,
and the other one is giving a high five.

Why does your face look like that?

I'm getting a little tired of people acting like I have a terminal illness.

Let me back up a bit: I don't have a terminal illness. I'm quite healthy, actually. But others have not-so-subtly pointed out to me that I appear to have a debilitating disease where I graduated from college and now am doing nothing.

Let me back up again: I'm not doing "nothing." I've got a job that I work 30 hours a week at, I'm paying bills, and I'm writing all the time. Sure I don't have an internship or a journalism desk job that takes up 95% of my time yet totals 5% of my income, but I'm only hanging around this town until May. I graduated at the end of December, and I'm leaving at the end of May. That's a total of 5 months where I've had to essentially start from scratch and not only try to hone what skills I've earned with my degree, but also try to save money and salvage my post-college/pre-career existence while I can.

So then why do people who ask me what I'm up to cringe when I tell them "not much, just working and hanging out until I move in May?" It's like this weird reflexive action they have which they just can't seem to hide. There's this look as though I've just told them that my dog died, or that I'm going into rehab, or that I have terminal cancer. This sort of knee-jerk widening of the eyes coupled with a thin, smarmy smile and a phrase that carries an air of mock-understanding and sympathy ("Oh, wow, well good. That's good that you're working.").

Sorry folks, I didn't move home with my parents and I didn't just return to my "home town" because if you want to get technical then my home town was Los Angeles. Seriously Idaho, there are other places besides Coeur d'Alene and Boise. I see people all the time on Myspace or Facebook or in the UI Alumni Magazine (which I receive in the mail now along with a helping of guilt for not financially supporting my alma mater) who moved back tot heir home town and have started some kind of career. A guy I graduated with is now working at a TV station in Twin Falls.

But here's the thing: That's Twin. Falls. Idaho.

And that's fine. Do whatever you'd like and go where you'd like to go. It's just that my aspirations go beyond this state. I don't want to just go back to the comforts of home to a place that's familiar. It's the same reason I didn't do community college right after high school. It's the same reason I didn't just try and get a desk job at the local paper here in Moscow. I like to experience new things. I like to live on the edge of my seat. I like having a warm place to call home, but I also like that place to have a sense of wonder or excitement.

Maybe that's why, after 5 years in my undergrad, Moscow has almost completely lost its charm.

I don't know what to see to these people that act as though I've just told them I've been diagnosed with HIV-I when I tell them I'm in a working, hanging out, sort of grace period between my undergrad and the start of my career. Except to tell them that I didn't run home to mommy like everyone else and that I actually have had to work since day 1 in college, and that I've still got to work because I pay my own bills, so that's why I couldn't just up and go home.

I want to tell them to go hang out with the skeptics, who are the other group of people that are infuriating me at the moment (I feel like the Palouse region [meaning Moscow, Pullman, Lewiston, etc.] can be divided up into 3 groups of people right now who are reacting to my life choices: The Sympathies, The Skeptics, and The Supporters). But third-party skepticism of my life choices is a whole other post that's probably more rant-y and less rational.

Oh, internet. I'm glad that I can vent to you. When I look back at this chronicle of my post-grad existence, hopefully it'll be from a place where I can smile and just say "ha."

"Sometimes I feel
That I need to move on.
So I pack a bag
And move on;
Move on."