The Big Red Dog

hiatus

2007-05-10T14:08:00.000-05:00

As is fairly obvious, I'm taking a small break from my blog for a handful of reasons. Most people who read this know me personally and can email me anytime. For any who don't know me, I have an email address listed somewhere on my blogger profile/contact page here; feel free to use it.

Someday soon, I'll be back with updates and new posts.

Take care!

my trip west

2007-04-15T12:36:00.000-05:00

I've been in Santa Fe for about three days and am loving it. The drive was amazing, and I have to pronounce my navigational and travelling genius here, as I had planned that 4-day, cross-country trip with an estimated arrival set at Thursday between 4 and 5. So of course, I exited the interstate into Santa Fe at exactly 4:30 on Thursday. I will soon go into more detail about life these past few days, including my new job, but first I'm going to talk about the drive here, which as I've said, was one awesome experience. Since I'm lazy and running late for some plans, I'm going to copy and paste an email I sent to a friend from a hotel in Oklahoma City, as is says exactly what I'd write here anyway.

This talks about my trip (briefly, with much summary) from West Palm to Oklahoma City:

I write this from my home for the night, a hotel in Oklahoma City. This is the end of day three on the road, and by this time tomorrow, I will be in Santa Fe, getting acquainted with my new roommates! It's been a fabulous drive, with drastically changing scenery from moment to moment. I can't say which has been my favorite day yet, as they have all been exciting for their own reasons. Driving along the Gulf Coast, from Pensacola through Mobile, Biloxi, and Baton Rouge, and then up through the marshy farms of Louisiana yesterday was great fun, especially as it allowed me to indulge my romanticized notion of the deep south, which I've inherited from my love of the region's literary tradition. I loved today as well, because I got to see east Texas--gorgeous rolling hills and lush vegetation (not what I expected for some reason) then pass through Dallas (enormous city!) and head up into southern Oklahoma state. Southern Oklahoma was surprisingly pretty. Several times, I stopped along the side of the highway so I could stare without running the risk of crashing my car. The land is so pristine, so untouched and natural! Enormous skies with endless green beneath. I once read where an author described the northern plains as looking like the sky yawned and forgot to close its mouth. This isn't the northern plains, but I can't stop making that same comparison. Though, the further north I got and the closer to Oklahoma City I drove, the more the landscape already started to change: slightly higher elevation, less moisture, etc. I turn west tomorrow, heading west on I-40 straight across western OK, across the Texas panhandle, and into northern New Mexico, so I anticipate even more drastic changes in the vegetation and topography. I can't wait! It's so exciting that one can sit in a car for mere hours and see such variety! And as ever, my Murphy is the world's greatest traveling companion. As far as pets go. He enjoys the trip quietly from the backseat, napping often, and periodically resting his chin on the left side of my seat so he can feel the breeze on his face from my open window. I love him.

And then this is about the subsequent part of the drive, from OK City to Santa Fe:

My night in OK City was relaxing, though I can't understand why they consider themselves to be a southwestern city. They are sorta south and then right in the central part of the country. I felt like I was back in the midwest, which I must admit, was nice for the day. But moving on the next morning was exciting. The drive across western Oklahoma was just as scenic as the drive north through the southern part of the state...refreshing and open and beautiful. The landscape continued to become more dry and higher in elevation, with slightly less green the further west I drove. I stopped in Clinton, OK, to see the Route 66 Museum, which was SO COOL! Took lots of pics there and then like a hypocrite, exited Route 66 and got back on the interstate. (Hey, if I'd had the time and money to stretch this into a multi-week trip, I'd have taken the old highway the entire route, but ...). I crossed back into Texas at the panhandle and almost wept the entire leg of that drive. I never expected the beauty I encountered there, and it probably ended up taking twice as long as it should have because I stopped at several rest stops and scenic overlooks, so I could gasp and take pictures and memorize the views. And I almost wept again when I crossed the New Mexico state line. Ok, not really. But I was super excited and was cheering myself on (much to Murphy's confusion). That last day from OKC to Santa Fe was almost constant uphill driving. Santa Fe is at 7,000 feet, so I was on a slight but steady incline all day. And now that I'm here, I'm surrounded by mountains and high desert.

Well, that's the drive in a tiny little nutshell. But I have more details and tons of pics to post, as well as some rambling about the whirlwind that has been these past few days here. But I'm meeting a new friend for lunch in a minute. More later...

time to go

2007-04-09T06:57:00.000-05:00

Today I leave Florida. Everything is packed into my car, Murphy is nervous, my mom is crying, and my sister is just barely holding it together herself. I'm excited as hell, but right now I'm anxious because I hate how sad the people around me look--even though they too are happy for me. Also, just to add another touch of anxiety to my moving day, I have to stop at the dentist on my way out of town so he can check how I'm healing after the big procedure last week.

Then I'm on my way.

It's weird to see my room all emptied out of my belongings. The furniture is still here, but my own things aren't. It looks blank and I guess it's not my room anymore.

Ok, not enough time to write more now. I have to get myself ready to go--shower, etc. And the final goodbyes are about to happen. Probably won't have internet access until Friday, but by then I'll be in my new home with four days of travelling to talk about.

no more free coffee

2007-04-06T22:26:00.000-05:00

I failed to mention in my post earlier that today was my last day at Starbucks. I have the luxury of falling asleep tonight, with no alarm set to wake me up pre-dawn so I can go open up the store at 5:30. And I can actually make dinner plans for tomorrow night because I won't have work until 2am to close the store.

I'm going to miss a bunch of people I've been fortunate enough to work with this past year, though if they don't keep in touch as they promised, I will come back to town and order dozens of frappuccinos on a busy saturday afternoon when they are running low on frap mix and whip cream. I will pay with a $100 bill and swear that I don't have anything smaller. And then I will spill a couple of drinks in the cafe and use all the napkins in a half-hearted attempt to clean up after myself, but I'll just end up leaving a disgusting pile of napkins half-soaked on a mound of runny mocha frappuccino.

So they had better send me those emails they all promised. Truly, I love the people I worked with at Starbucks.

More packing to do now, but I'll try to write another update over the weekend before I leave town on Monday.

SO EXCITED!

ouch, part 2

2007-04-06T15:04:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm feeling a little better, it's time to go into more detail about that horrible dental procedure. Ok, for starters, the dentist himself and all his assistants were actually awesome. I sort of have a phobia regarding dental work, which is why I was in the position to need a tooth pulled; I hadn't been to a dentist in years. I had a root canal done on one of my molars years ago when I was a kid, and about a year and a half ago, the crown fell off. I didn't do anything about it then, because it didn't hurt, so I thought, "Why bother?" Here's why I should have bothered: about two weeks ago, the gums around that tooth started to hurt a tiny bit. And then a week ago, it hurt a lot. To the point that I was up all night last Wednesday night, unable to sleep from the pain. It sucked. Made an appointment, went in last Monday, and was told the root canal tooth needed to go. I just wanted the damn thing to stop hurting, so getting it pulled sounded good to me.

Until two days later, when I had to go have it done.

He pumped so much novocaine into my mouth, and I honestly didn't feel anything but movement and pressure. However, the tooth just wouldn't come out, despite the fact that he repeatedly wrapped his arm around my head for leverage and was just pulling with all his might. And when he knelt on the edge of my chair to get a different angle, it still wouldn't come out. Then, he put down his tools, leaned back in his own chair, and stretched his arms, letting out a long sigh. That's when I heard him say something to his assistant about getting "the high-speed." I thought, "that can't be good." It wasn't. It was a little dental electric saw he used to cut the tooth into tiny sections. Isn't that considered an effective form of torture in most places? For the next stretch of time, he would saw a little, pull a little, saw a little, pull a little. Meanwhile, the assistant was on my other side with the water and suction things in my mouth. At one point, a little jet of water ricocheted off something in my mouth (by then, it could have been anything from a tooth, to the dentist's watch, to a bulldozer) and smacked me in the face. The dentist stopped for a second and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry the water got you. Didn't mean to bother you like that." I thought, "Yeah, it's not the water that's bothering me. It's the damned power tool you're using to section my tooth! You're sawing my tooth into sand, and you apologize for splashing me with some water?" But of course, with four hands and a toolbox in my mouth, I didn't actually speak.

And yet. As a testament to their reassuring and calm demeanor, as well as to the power of novocaine, I still managed to laugh a couple times. There is a tv in each room, which was a fabulous method of distraction for me. It was on a panel connected to the chair and within arm's reach, so I could theoretically change the channel or adjust the volume to cover up the sounds coming from the tools hitting my teeth. However, I had the arms of the chair in some kind of death grip and didn't let go the whole time, so I left the tv on Comedy Central, on a re-run of the show Scrubs, to be exact. I tried to focus on the show for diversion, and actually laughed at some of the lines. But then, so did the dentist. I tried not to be concerned that he was paying attention to tv while pulling my tooth.

In the end, it took almost an hour and a half to get that tooth out. Ninety minutes to yank out one tooth.

After my mouth finally gave up the tooth, they stuck a bunch of gauze in my mouth, gave me a ton extra to take home with me, and then he loaded me up with prescriptions and instructions. He actually said to me, "You're going to be in pain for a while after the numbness wears off." Since in my experience, dentists lie about the level of pain to expect, minimizing it, I was shocked to hear him be to blunt. But damn, he was right. Fortunately, among other things, he prescribed a big bottle of vicodin. Nice. I slept well that night.

I'm still in some pain, and the gap in the back of my mouth feels foreign to me, and I suppose it will take a while to get used to it. But at least it's done. Despite the fact that if I think too hard about what he had to do in order to get that tooth out I want to faint, this was the least horrific dental experience I've ever had, simply because of the friendliness of the entire staff there. Seriously, they were fantastic, while I was a basket case. On the other hand, the dentist looked just like Bobby Lee from Mad TV, and when I watched part of an old episode a little while ago and saw him, I had some sort of pavlovian response to his face that made me want to hold my mouth closed and cringe in fear.

ouch

2007-04-04T21:12:00.000-05:00

I had a molar pulled today. Just a couple hours ago. It didn't hurt then, but now that the novocaine is wearing off, it hurts like hell. My face is swollen, my mouth is full of gauze, and I want to curl up in the fetal position, cry and then pass out, which is actually what I'm going to do in a little bit here, after I take the vicodin the dentist prescribed.

take or toss

2007-03-28T16:16:00.000-05:00

My room--the spare room in my parents' house--which has been my home for almost a year now needs to be packed up and somehow shoved into my tiny car for a four-day drive. Since the physics of this don't work out, I'm forced to do some streamlining. I moved down here with only what I could fit inside my car and still leave room for Murphy and me. I'd like to streamline even more and let Murphy actually have the entire backseat this time, rather than just half of it (a box of books and my violin were on the other half, along with bags of clothes accross the floor on both sides). And of course, as I've explained before, most of my larger belongings are in storage in St. Louis. They're staying there for now.

Today was my last off day at Starbucks. Starting tomorrow, I work straight through to Friday the 6th, which is my last day there. I don't leave town til the following Monday, which means I have that weekend to also get ready, but I'm pretty sure I'll also be doing a lot of running around saying goodbye to people that weekend. So...one would think I was smart enough to spend today wisely, to get at least half the shit in my room here organized, sorted into piles of "keep" versus piles of "toss."

What did I really do?

I slept late. Took a nap on the couch with the dogs. Watched an hour of 101 Favorite Stars Way Back When, on E (and learned that Morgan Freeman used to be on The Electric Company). Had a sandwich for lunch. Walked the dogs. Talked to Kathy on the phone as she drove frantically through rush hour traffic to arrive late for a haircut. That's about it.

So here I sit in my room, which is still overflowing with the small collection of belongings I moved here with, plus all the stuff I've accumulated over the past year. When I do get around to sorting and packing, I'm going to employ the 'If-I-haven't-used-it-in-the-past-two-weeks-then-I-don't-need-it' approach and be merciless in getting rid of stuff. I tend to be a packrat as it is, so this type of cleansing is good for me on occasion; it forces me to let go of useless crap that in my mind has been built up as sentimental or potentially reusable. Instead all my crap just takes up a lot of room and creates clutter, something I hate. Strangely, I'm both a packrat and one who hates clutter. And my room is messy. None of this adds up, and I think it's the packrat part of my personality that must change its ways.

I've had a headache for about a week now, and I can only imagine it's a combination of changing weather and stress. As excited as I am about this move, it's a major decision and a huge task, and because of this every moment of my life right now is consumed by the various details. When I'm at work, I'm actually just thinking about my new job. When I'm at home, I'm going over my route and double checking my hotel reservations along the way...again and again. And again. And when I'm asleep, I'm dreaming that something is wrong with my car or that I'm missing some other detail to the move itself. Or worse yet, that I'll get there and be miserable, which I know won't happen, but fear of the unknown still haunts me. I'm so tired right now, just from making these plans. Part of me is nervous about getting on the road, but for the most part, I can't wait to get on the highway and just get going on this move.

I always have a copy of Rand McNally's road atlas, though I'm partial to a particular one. It's the notebook-sized spiral-bound that is revised each year. Because of my own obsessive-compulsive ways, it has to be this specific atlas, and when it gets too old and used up to read anymore, I replace it with the latest edition of the same atlas. This is for two reasons: 1) I'm a geek who loves maps. I've been known to stare at a map for hours. 2) I love to travel and I especially like road trips, so a good atlas is always necessary. This atlas is the perfect size for flipping through in the car, and it fits into my backpack. Various editions of this atlas have accompanied me since college, and of course while planning this move, my current copy has been next to me the whole time. While staring at my route for the millionth time the other night, my eyes traced the highway up through Oklahoma City, which is one of my overnight stops and which is also where the spiral of the book is located. The spine of this atlas cuts the state of Oklahoma--as well as Kansas, Texas, and a few others--right in half. So I folded the book back and flipped it over so I was only seeing the western half of the country. That's when I realized that for the first time ever, I'd be living west of the spiral, the left side of the country's two-page spread in my atlas.

Obviously, I knew before then that I was moving west, but seeing it in terms of my little atlas for some reason jolted me a bit. At once, I smiled and felt giddy, while my headache tightened a little more. This dichotomy of emotions right now is exhausting and yet propels me forward with this move; the excitement inspires me and my nerves keep me alert.

In the meantime, I can't go anywhere until I get this room organized and packed, which is what I should be doing now, instead of rambling here.

just a few miles to go

2007-03-26T08:34:00.001-05:00

I swear, I will be a better blogger again soon. So much is happening right now, and any spare time I have is spent on preparing to move. But for now, here is what's going on:

The move is still happening. In fact, I have a roommate and place to live all lined up. I'm renting from a cool lady who owns a home in Santa Fe and already has one roommate. I'll be number three in the house, with my own bedroom and bathroom. Murphy is welcome there, and I'm certain we'll love it.

After four phone interviews over the course of three weeks, I was officially offered the job as merchandising supervisor at Borders in downtown Santa Fe. I'm super excited about this because I'm sure it'll be interesting and will let me meet lots of people. Also, I'm ecstatic about the various discounts, perks, and benefits. Now, as I said earlier, my long-term goal is to get back into teaching, but that isn't something that can happen overnight. Hopefully, I might be able to pick up class or two as an adjunct at the community college in the fall, in addition to my job at Borders. But a full-time college teaching job is hard to score and requires time and patience. In the meantime, I'm excited about my new job.

I tried to give my two weeks at Starbucks the other day, though it was over a month ago when I first mentioned I'd be going sometime in early April. However, the current manager, who is really only a substitute manager from another district while the real one (who is a good friend of mine) is on maternity leave, has also just found out she is pregnant---and it wasn't planned. At all. Plus, she is finally learning that this store is a monster and that the problems there aren't because the current and previous staff were incapable but rather because the customers and volume are unpredictable, relentless, and unpleasant. And also our DM won't get off his ass and do his job to help out. So the current/sub/now-pregnant manager really doesn't have her heart in her job right now, and just before I tried to give her my official notice the other day, she said she was sick and took off early, leaving the store before I could talk to her. This is the way it normally goes around there lately: absentee manager. All I could do at the time was go back to the scheduling calendar and write, "Heather's Last Day" on Friday, April 6. I told my co-assistant manager yesterday so that someone else in charge knows what's happening, but I still haven't been able to get a couple minutes with the manager herself.

Also, on the planning front, I've mapped my drive west and it's going to be a long one. Four 7ish-hour days, three nights. I could have done three longer days, but I wanted to space it out some more, for the sake of enjoyment and safety. My hotels along the way are booked, and I'll get to Santa Fe early evening on Thursday the 12th. Just three weeks shy of one year after I arrived down here.

Can't wait!!!!

Finally, a decision

2007-03-05T22:00:00.000-05:00

Yes, I have been away from my blog for a long long time. I think my last update was posted while on vacation in New Mexico, though I've been back for two weeks now.

Well, my trip was fantastic. Take all the postitive adjectives one could use to describe a trip, combine them into one long, overly descriptive word...and that might begin to characterize my time out there.

It was so good, in fact, that I've decided to move there.

Yes. That's what I said.

I tossed around the idea while I was there, and then on the plane home I made it official. Since my return, I've been investigating job and housing possibilities. I talked to my manager at work the other day, so they now know I'll be leaving soon. While I don't have a definite date set, I'm shooting for the first week of April. Ultimately, I want to teach again, since it's the one occupation I've ever truly loved and which I know I'm great at. However, it's highly unlikely I'll be able to teach anything, even as an adjunct, before next fall. So in the meantime, I am checking out possible transfers within Starbucks and if that doesn't work out, I also had a very promising phone interview today with Borders for a supervisor position.

As I've told people, Santa Fe feels like a city of misfits, and that is probably why I feel just right there. The only person I know in Santa Fe is a former undergraduate professor who retired out there about ten years ago, and I've contacted her so we can meet up sometime after I arrive. But for the most part, I'll be starting from scratch.

It's exciting and nervewracking and while it might seem spur-of-the-moment and a sort of random, I can't think of a valid reason to not do this. I've been sitting on my ass for a year now not making one damned viable decision about my life, so it's time to just do something. Yes, I've tossed around ideas of moving overseas or this plan or that plan, but up until now, none of those plans ever really motivated me to make them happen. This decision, however, clicked into place the second it entered my mind, and I've spent just about every moment outside of work planning and working out the logistics to make this a reality.

Who knows how long I'll be there. A year. Five years. But that's not the point right now.

I'm so excited about this move. I'm excited about the move itself, the drive west with my dog. I'm delighted about my decision to live there, to experience on a long-term basis a place I love, a place so completely different from anywhere else I've ever lived. But I'm also happy to have come to a decision about something, to know what I'm going to do next and to be actively preparing for it.

Next up for the blog, some pics from my trip...later tonight if I have the energy. If not tonight then tomorrow, my first day completely off in about two weeks. Tomorrow is the first day in almost two weeks that I haven't had to go into the store for either a full shift or a meeting of some sort. I'm completely exhausted and love tomorrow because it is all mine.

so far

2007-02-16T17:46:00.000-05:00

I've been in New Mexico for 27 hours and Santa Fe 26 hours so far. I couldn't be happier. So far, I have taken three rolls of pictures, written a few pages in my journal, slept, but mostly wandered. Outside of Italy, I had the best cappuccino of my life yesterday at a coffee shop on the plaza (shhh...don't tell the people I work for), and for lunch today I had an unbelievably delicious enchilada with green chile sauce and a warm sopapilla with honey. I've talked to dozens of people. That's one of the cool things about traveling solo: personally, I'm more likely to strike up conversations with strangers than when I travel with someone else or when I'm at home. So far I have yet to meet anyone who grew up in this area; everyone I've talked to moved here from elsewhere. One is from St. Louis; another from Columbus; and yet another from Denver. All of them said they never planned on living here, but at some point they travelled here and then never wanted to leave. So they didn't. On the other hand, I have only had the opportunity to chat with european-americans so far. Not on purpose, of course...as anyone reading this should know by now I'm not like that. New Mexico has such an awesome conglomeration of cultures: European (mainly Spanish), Mexican, and Native American. Not only does this add up to the most amazing food in the world, but this also creates an eclectic atmosphere unmatched anywhere in the world I have been thus far.

The natural surroundings are so gorgeous, I almost want to cry. Really, there are no adequate adjectives for it. Mountains with clusters of sage and patches of snow. Red desert clay. Clean dry air (which is partly why I now have a sore throat and am sucking on lozenges constantly).

After wandering around Santa Fe for a couple hours this morning, I drove south along the Turquoise Trail to a town called Madrid. I stayed there for a couple days when I was last here. It's the most bizarrely charming little place. Nestled between a couple mountains along the Turquoise Trail, it was once a mining town during the 19th century. Then it died and was a ghost town. And then sometime during the late-middle 20th century it was revived as an artists' colony. Truly one of a kind. So I drove down there today and spent a few hours wandering, talking to people, taking pictures, and having coffee at Java Junction, where I actually stayed overnight years ago when I was last here.

And on my way back to Santa Fe, I saw a coyote! I was on this small desert/mountain road when a grey/tan/white coyote darted out in front of the car. It was so cute and looked extremely alert. It looked both ways before crossing the road, stopped briefly on the other side, and then disappeared into a field. I wish I had gotten a picture, but it happened so fast, and the coyote was gone in a flash.

Now, I'm back at the hotel briefly...long enough for another dose of Dayquil (yes, I am fighting off a cold in addition to the dry-air induced sore throat). Then, I'm not sure what the evening has in store for me, but I'm going to make sure it's interesting.

I love it here.

Eighteen and a half

2007-02-14T11:28:00.000-05:00

That's how many hours until my plane leaves tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow!

I have a short shift to work today and then I will be ready to leave town.

My packing list is short, though still untouched: clothes/shoes for cold weather, coat and such acroutrements, camera, journal, reading glasses, bath/shower stuff...I think that's all I need. Definitely all I want to bring. Boarding passes confirmed online and printed. No luggage check. No complications.

I may or may not post here again before I leave, though I will most certainly post (including pictures) as soon as I return.

what kind of latte was that?

2007-02-11T23:07:00.000-05:00

Some guy went ballistic on me yesterday and accused starbucks employees of urinating in the coffee. According to him, this is common practice throughout the company, and he’s "just sick of it, damn it.” This came right before having a temper tantrum about getting the wrong drink and then throwing his change at me. Also, he didn’t actually get the wrong drink. He ordered an Americano, apparently not understanding what it is (espresso and water), and when the barista handed it to him, he flipped out because he thought that when she added the hot water, she was cheating him out of coffee, when in reality water is part of the recipe.

One of our faithful, offbeat and hilarious regular customers told me that this guy had been wandering around the café telling everyone to make sure we hadn’t peed in their coffee, as he assured them this is common practice throughout the company. Most people ignored him. The funny thing about it, to me, is that this insane man seemed to really believe we do this, and yet there he was ordering a drink from us anyway.

Actually, the funniest part is how he imagines we add this special ingredient. Evidently, he told people that we sneak off into the bathroom for each individual beverage we make. Because were we to actually do something this horrendous, we surely wouldn't go the more efficient route and take care of it an entire batch at a time. Instead, we'd take turns sneaking off to the bathroom, one barista/one drink at a time. So he's not just a disgusting, delusional weirdo, but he's also not so bright.

Not that anyone took this lunatic seriously. Everyone kept right on drinking. I was about to call security to have him removed when he removed himself.

Truly, we do not pee in the coffee. You have my word on this.

On a much better note…only three days until my trip. Three days! Before the sun rises on Thursday, my plane will be in the air and my shoulders will finally begin to relax as I leave behind the ugly stress that has somehow found its way into my life.

escape

2007-02-02T18:12:00.000-05:00

I've desperately needed to get out of town for a while now, but I refused to see it as a possibility in the near future. I don't know why. My friend Chris talked me into saying screw it and taking a few days off and finding some sort of adventure for myself. I have done just that.

Initially, I was going to drive up to Savannah, Georgia, but most of their hotels were booked for when I wanted to go. And the ones that weren't booked are super expensive and would sort of defeat the idea of a fun, stress-free trip. So just for kicks, I went to one of the travel websites and started looking at their last minute packages. I found the most amazing deal for a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Several years ago, my then-husband and I went there for a week, and I thought it was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen. I know my ex loved it, too, but he said he prefers places with more green, while Santa Fe is obviously high desert (that's how he felt then, though I don't know if he still does). Anyway, I have wanted to get back there ever since that first trip and two weeks from now, I will be there for four days! Honestly, I found such a great deal on airfare, a hotel room, and a rental car. I won't go into exact prices here, but it's unbelievable.

So...thank you, Chris, for pushing me into this, as I know it's the best idea anyone has had in ages. And I will bring you home a souvenir (and, no, it won't be a man for you).

Last time I took any kind of trip alone, I was 18. I went to Germany for two weeks, and though I stayed most of the time with my aunt and uncle who lived there back then, I took a few overnight trips in and around the region alone. It was great. But this whole trip will be me on my own, and that's one of the things I'm most excited about. Hopefully, it will be relaxing, to a therapeutic degree. I'm going to take tons of pictures and bring my journal along of course. Also, I hope to go skiing and hiking. But mostly, I plan to wander around and breathe that air which I remember as being some of the cleanest and most energizing I've ever breathed.

all I have is a sofa and a bunch of books in my storage unit

2007-01-28T10:20:00.000-05:00

Ah, I love when real stories are more fascinating that fiction. This story came out late last week, about a woman in Delray (just a couple minutes down I-95 from where I am) who found a mummified baby locked in an old suitcase in her dead parents' storage unit. Here is the most recent follow-up to the story. As I said to a couple other people, it's so bizarre and just grotesque that it seems like something right out of a Faulkner, O'Connor, or Caldwell story. All tragedy, creepiness, social commentary, or ethical issues aside, this is fascinating stuff--or maybe those things aren't beside the point; maybe they are why this is so provacative.

What a cool creative piece that experience could turn into. Yes, I know that is not the point right now, and that maybe there is something wrong with looking at an infant's death as a potential story, but it has to be dealt with somehow, right? She can't act like this didn't happen or like she never found that suitcase. Anyone who was around when this child was born is now dead as well. I'd love to tell that story and fill in any blank spaces with my own imagination, but of course, it's not my story to tell--at least not as a nonfiction piece.

I want to say...

2007-01-23T18:41:00.000-05:00

...that I'm doing surprisingly well without the meds. It's been about three weeks since the last time I had any medication, and that was after a few months of tapering off. And, despite a few occasional spells of crankiness and dizziness/drowsiness (a couple of the lovely physical side-effects of withdrawal) I feel good. Actually, I feel great, because not only am I not going crazy, but I also feel so mentally energized by how well this is going and the prospect that I might actually be ok without the pills.

I want to say all this...but if I do something might prove me wrong.

So I'm only pretending to say it for now, or maybe hypothesizing. The jury is still out.

On a different topic, today is one of my favorite days of the year: Oscar nominations day! Honestly, I truly believed they were next Tuesday, but this is even better. So far, I've only seen one of the best picture nominees, Little Miss Sunshine. I watched that yesterday for the first time, and man was it good. I must buy this DVD so I can watch it all the time. I loved it. Steve Carell was probably my favorite character, but only as a close second to Alan Arkin. The conversation/"advice" session between him and Dwayne in the car was priceless. And, god, the final scene at the pageant was genius...great characterization and also a gem of a stab at the beauty pageant culture. Never thought a striptease could be so funny and sweet. I hope this wins.

But then I still haven't seen the other best pic nominees, or most of the nominees in all categories. I have quite a task ahead of me this next month: lots of movies to watch before the awards.

Finally, I have to brag for a moment. A year ago, I began working with a group of other writers and/or grad students on an upcoming issue of Natural Bridge, the literary journal published by the University of Missouri-St. Louis. The issue we worked on contains a special section on responding to women writers, but the entire issue--not just the special section--is excellent. I was the non-fiction section editor, which meant I weeded through the many essay submissions from across the country and even other parts of the world, chose several finalists, and we critiqued and debated those finalists as a group. I am so proud of the essays we agreed on, as there were times when I had to fight for my choices and defend my stance to accept or leave out certain pieces. The respective fiction and poetry section editors--my colleagues on this issue--did the same with those submissions, and I am sure feel the same pride I now feel. Finally, a year later, our issue is out. I received my two copies of the journal in the mail last week; they are beautiful!

It pains me that there are launch parties and readings in St. Louis these next couple weeks to which several of the authors are traveling so they may read from their contributions to Natural Bridge, and I can't be there. It's ok; I still had a hand in this and couldn't be happier with the way it turned out.

unmedicated update

2007-01-16T11:20:00.000-05:00

I had several days of being in a great mood, and I started to think I was going to get off easy, with no withdrawal side effects. What was I thinking?

Yesterday was not great, and today is shaping up to be pure shit, in terms of my mood. Work started out fabulously yesterday, until the district manager came in for a while, so I was paranoid about every single thing that went on during my shift while he was there--it was exhausting. When I got off work, I was tired to the point where I had a hard time staying awake while driving. That's partly because I had worked the opening shift, which entailed getting up at 4:15, and I hadn't been able to get to sleep until about 1am the night before. Once I got home, I took care of a few things and by 7 I was ready to pass out. I tried to do just that, but it was like i was too tired to sleep. There was also some anxiety mixed in there. For an hour and a half, I'd experience short bursts of sleep, followed by a jolting memory or worry from the day, which prevented me from really falling asleep. Eventually, I got tired of this battle, so I just got back out of bed and suddenly had tons of energy. Nervous energy, though. I replied to some emails that had been stacking up and then I tried to write. But I couldn't focus on one thing. I probably started three different pieces of writing last night within a couple hours time. As I told a friend, it wasn't writers block as much as writers ADD. And during it, I was physically shaky. Nervous, jittery, like I'd had way too much caffeine (which I hadn't). Finally around 1am,, I somehow managed to fall asleep and I stayed that way until 10 this morning.

But I'm crankier than hell today. I can't hold one single thought in my mind for more than about 10 seconds, and I want to pack up my car and start driving away from florida now, right this minute. Because when I'm cranky, dissatisfied, or anxious about anything, my instinct is to go away from it. The problem here, of course, is that I don't know exactly what is making me jittery, anxious, and cranky---other than the lack of meds in my system. How do I ignore this and convince my body to understand it's not really life, but rather a chemical change in my system and to just relax, ignore it, and be sure everything is ok?

But maybe I shouldn't relax and believe everything is ok. Maybe I've become too complacent since I moved here, and I need to feel this anxious drive to move on.

sanctioned addiction

2007-01-12T12:22:00.000-05:00

It's been a while. And I have no real excuse other than the fact that I have been busy and haven't really felt like making time to blog. I have been writing, but nothing I want to share with the internet world, though some of it I hope to turn into something I would someday like other people to read.

I've officially been promoted to assistant manager at work, which is exciting. The interview for it was tough: about 2.5 hours of detailed question-answer-follow-up-question-follow-up-answer discussion with three people. But I passed and the promotion went into effect this past Monday.

Otherwise, I've made a decision. I'm going to stop taking my antidepressants. I have never talked much about them here on my blog, so I'll explain. Several years ago, I realized that I was dealing with and probably always have dealt with depression, possibly manic-depression, though it had always been undiagnosed and written off as mere moodiness. I saw a therapist once every couple weeks for a while, and then I decided, after much reading and discussion with my therapist, doctor, then-husband, and my journal to start taking anti-depressants. It was not a decision I came to lightly, though one particularly shitty weekend was sort of the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

I was first put on a very low dose of lexapro. After several months, when I felt it wasn't working, that dose was increased. I felt better. Not perfect, but stable and less "moody" and more productive and functional. About a year later, I stopped the therapy, but continued with the meds. Some time after that, I encountered a weird plateau with the meds, where they just simply stopped working, as if I had built up a tolerance. My doc thought about upping my dose, but neither of us liked that idea much. So instead, she kept my dose of lexapro the same but supplemented it with a low dose of wellbutrin. It was lovely, and I felt some relief again. But of course, maybe a year later I hit another platuea and the doc and I kept the meds the same but played with the doses.

Anyway...this process has been ongoing for years now, and I'm tired of it. Granted, a lot of changes have taken place in my life from the time I first started meds to now. A lot of ups and downs, which certainly helped trigger the chemical side of this so-called mood-disorder. I've been dealing with that non-chemical side of it all as well, in non-medical ways, such as choosing a different career path when I realized I hated my job so much, I'd rather have been sick than go to work. And by getting away from a life in which I felt miserable and paralyzed, by coming down here, where I could rebuild and then move on again. But I can't help wondering, to what degree have my meds helped or hindered my choices, my efforts to make my life what I want it to be?

I hate being dependent on mood drugs such as these, and I have wanted to stop for a long time now. Every few months, I admit, I play with my dose without the consent of my doctor. I'll just decide I don't feel like taking the pills for a few days, or I will pretend I forgot, because I never wanted to admit to how shitty it feels to rely on them so much. However, as some of you have witnessed, Heather without her meds can be a bad bad thing. Not everybody understands depression, myself included; it's a complicated, spongy issue. For one thing, as I've mentioned here before, I am certain that I was misdiagnosed and rather than depression, my problem is manic-depression (bipolar disorder). This could be why it's been a nonstop struggle to get the right meds and the right doses.

Regardless, I want to stop being at the mercy of drugs for my emotional stability. Several weeks ago, I started to slowly wean myself. I started to take my pills only every other day, rather than every day. And then after a week or so of that, I cut my dose in half. Then, last week, I stopped altogether. It hasn't been a sudden halt, which I've done before and is horrible. Rather, I've stopped the pills slowly, so as to minimize the withdrawal--which is usually unpleasant to say the least. It hasn't been bad. I have been somewhat anti-social throughout this, because I need time and space to deal with potential side effects. It's no shock that a side-effect of altering--or stopping--antidepressants is depression. One of the big challenges is deciphering whether any down moods are real depression or just a side effect of the withdrawal, a result of stopping the meds that have been in my system for years now. If it's just a side effect, I know that once this withdrawal period is over, the depression may improve, but not if that depression is real depression, not just the withdrawal. However, the biggest challenge is figuring out whether my good moods now are truly good moods or manic episodes. The manic side of manic depression is the hardest, because it's great and you live for it. Anyone who's ever experienced this knows what I'm talking about. These moods are so amazing that it's just about worth the down days to get these high days. My energy, optimism, and ambition on those days are uncontainable, almost to a dillusional degree. I've been having a couple days like that now, and I love it, but I don't trust it because I am sure that right around the corner is a mood crash.

I want to get through the withdrawal, to get the pills out of my system completely so that I can step back and decide in a fully unmedicated state how to best handle my mood issues. Maybe I should stick with the meds. But if that's the case, I need different meds. Or maybe I'll see that I can find non-chemical ways to deal with mood swings. I don't know. It could be miserable, but it could be great. It could be a big nothing, or it could be cathartic. Whatever it is, I need to experience it for a while so I can decide what to do next, figure out what I need and what I want in terms of this so-called mood-disorder.

This is a little scary. I don't want to experience the kind of depression I've felt before. But I also don't want to be addicted to these pills. Not unless I discover it's the only way for me to get by. I'm going to go forward with this, though, and find out what happens. I don't want to need the pills anymore, but I'll just wait and see.

bad blogger

2007-01-07T23:02:00.000-05:00

Oh blog, I've been ignoring you.

I have so many things to write here, but I have been busy--with work, life, other writing, and the chaos that is my thought process. I wish I could sit here and blog for hours right now, but I can't. However, I will do this tomorrow evening. I promise.

For now, good night.

sitting at the grown-up table

2006-12-27T23:20:00.000-05:00

So much to say!

First, christmas was better than I expected it to be. As I said before, I wasn't looking forward to the holidays at all this year, and having to deal with people who feel otherwise has just been annoying. However, as it turned out, I had a pretty nice time last weekend getting ready for and celebrating xmas. First, I went out last Friday with my friend Chris, with whom I have so much in common. We worked together briefly, but he and starbucks didn't really click and now he has a job that makes him happier. I'm so glad for this, as it means we can be friends, where before a friendship wouldn't have been possible. We've been through a lot of similar situations, such as being married and then divorcing and coming out. It's nice to connect with someone who understands what that was like, because most people don't get it, no matter how sympathetic they are. Also, we both came down to florida this past year as an exit strategy, a way to get away from things that haunted us, things that blocked any paths to happiness. It's been wonderful the past couple weeks to get to know someone else who is in such a similar state of mind. Friday night, we went out for a few drinks (the repercussions of which I felt all the next day) and I loved every minute of it. I love that we have become friends.

Saturday night was a big christmas party with all the rest of my friends down here. What a fabulous night! It was at Becca's place and it was perfect. Dinner was great, and we all actually behaved like grown-ups, rather than drunken slobs. I was so proud of all of us! However, my friend Aubri at one point made a comment about how lovely and mature everything was and how much she was enjoying this mood for a change, when Bridget next to her pointed out a glob of food that had fallen on Aubri's shirt. That sort of ended the whole "grown-up party" theme, but it was a good time. Here are our cute stockings from the party:

Truly, it was a fabulous night, one which reminded me how lucky I am to have found all these friends since moving down here. There was a moment during dinner, while we were all sitting around Becca's beautifully decorated table, when I stepped back and looked at everything from a distance, and I realized that good things have happened to me since coming here. Every time I think I don't belong anywhere, I find myself sitting with friends who make me laugh, make me feel right, and make me care. I love them for that.

And at that party someone gave me syphilis for christmas. Actually, it's a pink, fuzzy stuffed worm thing that supposedly looks just like the syphylis microbe. This person gave someone else mono and yet another person the clap.

The next day, Christmas Eve, started at work for me. I worked until 4pm, which was fine, as it meant being out of everyone's way at home as they ran around and finished last minute preps for the holiday. After work, I stopped at Chris' place to give him a new copy of David Sedaris' book, Me Talk Pretty One Day. It's one of my favorites, and I knew he'd love it too. After leaving him with that gem, I headed home for my family's christmas eve. Normally, we get together with the extended family on christmas eve and then stay around the house with the immediate family the next day, but this year we reversed things, and it was nice. My sister and my niece were here of course, so it was them, my parents, my little brother, and me. We had dinner, opened some gifts, and then played the Friends version of Scene It. I kicked their asses in it, just like I told them I would.

Christmas day was nice too, but not as relaxing as the previous night. My niece and my brother both woke up so early. I don't know what time it was, but it couldn't have been much later than dawn. They opened presents, we had breakfast, and I went back to sleep. Later, we went to the big family gathering, which was more low-key than normal.

While I don't remember all the details of last year's christmas gathering, I do remember that at one point during the evening, my aunt's dog took a shit right in the front doorway, but nobody realized until my dad had accidentally stepped in it and walked across the floor, spreading it around. It smelled horrible. Once people realized what had happened, they started gagging and shrieking, and everyone huddled in one corner of the room, as far from the doorway as possible. In the meantime, my 12-year-old brother, who has a sensitive stomach along with some OCD issues, went a little ballistic and almost hyperventilated because he wanted to get away from the dog shit as soon as possible, but he couldn't get out of the house because the pile of crap was actually blocking the doorway. So instead, he paced in giant circles, gagging and on the brink of a meltdown. Someone, perhaps my aunt, one of my uncles, or my dad cleaned it all up and everything went back to normal. Except my brother. He busted out of there and wouldn't go back in for a while. And as usual, while this was happening, I stood back watching and laughing.

Nothing like that happened this year, though. I'm sure my brother is glad for this.

Christmas would have been ok without my friends, but with the friends I've made here, it was great. They made all the difference. Also, I did have a lot of fun with my family, especially beating them with my superhuman knowledge of Friends trivia.

Now, I just have to survive the dreaded New Year's Eve ordeal. That holiday always makes me edgy. Too much pressure. But I'll deal with that on Sunday.

this and that

2006-12-22T09:41:00.000-05:00

Book 7 has a title! It's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Still no publication date, though, as she hasn't even delivered the complete manuscript to Bloomsbury, her publisher. I can't wait!!!!!

Other than this, the only thing on my mind right now is pure delight that I'm off work today and tomorrow. I'm going to the store for about 45 minutes this afternoon to interview a possible new employee, but that's it. I have one more gift I need to buy before Christmas eve, so I'm going to take care of that today.

I haven't been up very long yet this morning and, actually, I had hoped to sleep even later but I woke for some reason and couldn't go back to sleep. A few minutes after getting up, I was walking across the living room to the kitchen when I noticed that one of the dogs has puked on the floor. I cleaned it up, but I don't know which dog did this. Both are now curled up on the sofa staring expectantly at me, watching every move I make just in case I decide to do something exciting, like take them for another walk (in addition to the one we just went for), which isn't going to happen for another couple hours. They both seem fine, so I can't decide which of them left me that little treat on the floor.

It's a pretty exciting morning around here...

I'm going out to dinner tonight with a friend, and then on saturday is a christmas party with a whole bunch of friends. I've been a tad anti-social for the past few weeks, so I'm trying to gear myself up for this reintroduction to my social life. I know I'll have fun, but it takes more mental preparation for us introverted folks. On the other hand, I had such a wonderful time with my good friend Becca the other night. All we did was meet for coffee at the cafe in Barnes & Noble and then wander around the bookstore together. I so love good conversation, something Becca is excellent at providing. It was one of my favorite nights in a long time.

Speaking of books (sorta), I've been reading a young-adult book that Kathy sent me: Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. It's by Louise Rennison, and it is great! Kathy's been telling me for years to read it, so finally she just sent me a copy to make sure I'd get to it. It's a quick easy read, and the only reason I didn't finish it all in one sitting is because of this crazy busy work schedule. This is sort of a high-school version of Bridget Jones, in the sense that it's written in diary style and is funny as hell. Also, it takes place in a private, all-girls school, which is a main reason Kathy loved it and knew I would to, being survivors of an all-girls catholic school ourselves.

I love and totally respect any well written young-adult book. It's a hard audience to write for and anyone who does it well is truly talented. A couple of my favorite books are young-adult, for example, The Witch of Blackbird Pond. I read it about once a year, ever since I first discovered it back in 7th grade, and it still moves me. Come to think of it, I haven't read it in a while, so maybe it's time to revisit it. Perhaps that's something I'll do during these next two days off.

Enough rambling for now. I need some breakfast.

test?

2006-12-18T12:38:00.000-05:00

How does one "fail a gender test"? Seriously. Even the news reports can't seem to explain this one. What the hell does it mean to fail a gender test?

What is a gender test in the first place?

I'd like to say something in criticism of this, as it sounds like something that would piss me off, but honestly, I don't even understand the story enough to bitch about it. And, frankly, it appears nobody does. So why is the story all over the place, when nobody knows what to do with it or how to report it?

frapp du jour

2006-12-18T02:22:00.000-05:00

I got the giggles at work tonight, in a bad way. First of all, we were of course crazy busy and it would have been so easy to get stressed out and cranky tonight. But there's no point in letting that happen, as it won't help matters. So I try to just get through it all and find things to laugh about in the meantime.

For example, a dorky college kid came up to the register and said, "I want that frappucino. What's it called, with the vanilla?"

I said, "You mean the cafe vanilla frappucino?"

"Yeah! It's the coffee and vanilla one, right? So what's in it?"

"Coffee and vanilla."

"Oh, really?! That sounds great! I'll have one of those."

Instead of irritating me, his earnest stupidity made me think of that scene in Dumb and Dumber, at the diner when Lloyd (Jim Carrey) asks the waitress, "What's the soup du jour?" And the waitress responds flatly, "It's the soup of the day." And Lloyd looks thrilled and says, "Mmmm. I'll have that!" (I tried to find that scene on YouTube to link here, but no such luck.)

As soon as this popped into my head, the giggling started, which might not have been a problem except for the fact that I was still trying to help this guy, and I couldn't let him know I was laughing at him for sounding like Lloyd Christmas. I kept it together until he was finished, but then for the rest of the night I'd think about the absurdity of the exchange he and I had and then I'd think about that movie scene, and I'd lose it. I don't mind, though, as that is definitely better than losing it the other way, like when the mean mean mean wicked woman made me cry last week.

Though I did have a few minutes earlier tonight when I thought I might go that way. I was trying desperately to make a couple of high-maintenance customers--who were together--happy, though they were so demanding and horrible that it was harder than hell to stay friendly and help them with what they needed, especially when a couple dozen drink orders I needed to make were backing up and people were getting restless. I did all I could and somehow stayed calm and friendly (or at least I pretended to), but I know they were still unsatisfied and I'm sure thought I was an idiot. Finally, when they were finished and on their way, I went back to work helping the other customers who'd been made to wait because of this previous couple, and I suppose despite my efforts and the not-completely-genuine smile plastered on my face, another customer tried to cheer me up and said all kinds of sweet things about how hard I was working and what a great job I was doing, etc. And then he tried to give me a tip--as opposed to putting it in the tip jar for the whole staff. I was so touched, though I put it in the tip jar anyway. Really, though, it was his kind words that touched me, not the tip.

Of course, then he also said something about how lucky my "future husband will be someday" and I laughed so hard and could only thank him for being sweet, rather than try to explain anything that he wasn't aware of. This was a young guy, maybe 25. He was there with his girlfriend, and they both seemed to be fairly alert, bright people, and tonight I was looking particurlarly--um, how should I say this--dykey. So I was a little surprised that he'd make such an innocent/blind/naive assumption. But oh well. It was funny, he was fun and sweet, and it more than made up for the jerks before him.

For every asshole I deal with, I encounter at least 100 sweethearts who make it worthwhile.

September

2006-12-13T21:41:00.000-05:00

Earlier today I wrote something in an email to a friend and I'm going to sort of echo here what I wrote there because to me it's the easiest way to explain my state of mind now.

This has been the longest summer ever...and I don't feel like it's ended yet for so many reasons. Summer is always when I feel the worst on most levels; anything I'm not satisfied with in life feels magnified each summer: finances, personal life, professional choices, geography, etc. Normally, I trudge throught it all, knowing that with every day of heat and suffocation, I am closer to the relief of fall, the clarity of winter.

Yes, I know, I know...most people don't understand my love of cold weather. I get that, and I have actually been ridiculed for it. And guess what. I don't really understand my love of fall and winter anymore than other people do, nor do I understand it more than I understand the way other people seem to enjoy sweating in the filthy summer air. I just know that I am a better person during the cold time of year; everything feels right for me then. I can think more clearly, make better choices, enjoy life more. For whatever reason, that's just the way it is for me.

Normally, July is a killer and August is plain unbearable. But the thing about August is that it's when relief is in sight...the end of August is the beginning of September, and that's when I know everything is going to be ok. Somehow, by no planning of my own, I always end up sitting alone in some coffeehouse writing in my journal every August 31st. Of course, that could be because I have spent most of my adult life sitting in coffeehouses writing in my journal. But every year for the past several, I'll be sitting there and I'll notice that it's August 31st, usually around 10-something at night and that I only have two or so more hours left of August, which for me is officially the end of the summer, even though it doesn't technically end until mid-september. And every year, upon this realization, I sigh audibly and give myself a little pat on the back for making it through my least favorite time of year in one piece (and more importantly, with the people around me in one piece).

However, it's always about way more than just temperature. I generally enjoy the momentum of life better in the fall and winter months, while summer for some reason feels like a gap in life. Maybe it's because I have spent most of my life in or teaching school, so summer often has been when things stop for me, and I don't like that.

This past one has been the worst ever. Staring last spring, everything fell to pieces. Everything. Emotionally, financially, and in every other way, this has been the hottest, longest summer ever. And not just because I moved to south florida. Even though the calendar says it's now December, in so many ways, I haven't felt the release of fall yet, not literally or figurative speaking. Whenever I go into the living room right now, I'm surprised to see the Christmas tree, as I sometimes forget it isn't still August, because I've remained in an August state of mind for months.

Some things are coming up for me, though, and I am beginning to think that my own September is finally on its way. For example, on December 29th I am scheduled to officially interview for the promotion to assistant store manager. The company calls that my panel date, which is actually a scarier term to me than just interview. It entails meeting with my district manager and two high-ranking store managers (who are soon-to-be district managers) for at least a couple hours. I have no doubt in my mind that I will be a great assistant manager and then eventually store manager, but the interview is what intimidates me a tad. On the other hand, I feel confident that it will go well, which means a significant promotion and lots of opportunities to get my life back on track.

I also have some plans for my non-professional life in the works right now, and I'm debating some options. I'm not going into detail here until I have made some further decisions, but the point is that I am beginning to feel that momentum of life returning to me and I am remembering what it is to like myself again, to know that I am capable and deserving of whatever wishes and dreams I pursue. I'm changing the things I don't like about my life. I'm moving on.

Sometimes in August, it's hard to believe the relief will ever come. Sometimes I'm almost convinced that my world will stay hot, paralyzed, and polluted forever. But logically I know that September has to come. It always has and always will. No matter how hard it is to conceive of the changes that will take place, the arrival of September is a fact, which requires only my patience. Just as on early September nights when I feel hints of that cool, cleansing energy which brings about the drastic changes of fall, I now believe those same changes will finally occur in my life. They have to. They always do. It's finally the end of August for me. It's been the longest summer ever.

stupid complaint/observation

2006-12-12T17:45:00.000-05:00

So many people---even incredibly smart people---misspell the word 'definitely' that I actually had a moment of doubt today about its spelling. It's a trend I've noticed a lot lately. People spell it 'definately' all the time. My students used to do it (and probably still do, despite my efforts) and people do it all over the internet. Finally, today I actually wondered if I was the one misspelling it, because surely so many people can't be that wrong that often. So I looked it up at encarta.com:

definitely
def·i·nite·ly
adverb
Definition:
1. certainly: without a doubt. "He definitely had a Swedish accent."
2. finally and unchangeably: as a conclusion after some thought or hesitation. "Once she had definitely decided to go, she started packing."
3. exactly: in a precise way. "Without knowing definitely what it was, he just felt that something was wrong."

Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm right. Everyone in the world spells this simple word incorrectly. There is no 'A' in this word, people!!!! No matter how much you want to put one there, 'A' does not belong in this word.

Okay?

Needed to get this off my chest, because of course I am perfect. (Just ignore the copious misspellings in my previous couple entries.)
:)

almost festive

2006-12-11T14:35:00.000-05:00

Although I usually love the holidays, I'm not really feeling christmas this year for several reasons, mostly because it's just not a fun time of year to be single and transitional. I am excited that my parents are so thrilled to have all their kids here for the holidays; this truly makes me happy. But otherwise, I'm pretty complacent about the season this year.

However, today I finally heard my favorite holiday song: Snoopy's Christmas. I don't know why I love this song so much, but I always have. I've searched the internet for a site I could link to here which would play the song, and I only found one. (I'd say something about the cheesy pics of dogs on the site, but who am I to laugh at someone who decorates their websites with pictures of their dogs? I even named my blog after my dog.) Anyway, if you want to hear the song, click on the Snoopy's Christmas link above and make sure your volume is turned on.

mean people

2006-12-10T22:39:00.000-05:00

A customer made me cry at work yesterday (Saturday). We were so busy and the line just never stopped. I mean, it was saturday afternoon two weeks before christmas, in a part of town where all the people with more money than they deserve go to spend said money. So we were insanely busy all day. As much as I love my job, even I was stretched to the limit. Mostly our customers yesterday were pleasant. They were out with their families, enjoying beautiful weather, and they didn't mind waiting in line, since they were aware of the fact that we were all working our fingers to the bones and going as fast as possible in as pleasant a mood as possible.

Until Ms. Lunatic Bitch came in. First, she got angry with me after she paid for her order (a latte and a newspaper) and learned we were out of large shopping bags. She hollered at me for not telling her this before she paid for her order. How was I to know, based on her order, she'd want a bag?? Who needs a bag for a drink and a newspaper? But I smiled anyway, apologized, and as she requested, refunded her money for the paper, as that is evidently what she planned on putting in the bag. Then, about five minutes later, she came up to me in the cafe, pointed her ugly finger in my face and asked, "Who can I talk to about placing a complaint?" I politely told her I was the manager on duty and that she could talk to me. She said, "This is absolutely the WORST Starbucks I've ever been to and I think you need to be fired." I was astounded and could only manage to say, "I'm so sorry." I was about to ask her what happened to make her say this and ask how I could rectify the situation, when she interrupted me and said, "This is pathetic. I'm from New York and I've never seen anything like this." What her being from New York has to do with anything is beyond me, except that there are a ton of transplants living here from NYC, many of whom seem to think they are better than everyone because they're from New York, when in reality most people don't give a shit and aren't impressed by where they come from. Anyway, I assumed her problem was with the fact that she'd had to wait in line for a while to order and then again to get her drink. I was going to say, "I'm truly sorry. I know we're really busy right now, because of the holidays and because our store is undergoing a lot of transitions at the moment, but we're going as fast as we can. What can I do to make this better for you?" blahblahblah...or something along those lines. But--again--before I could get out one full sentence, she cut me off and said, "I'm from New York. Don't tell me about being busy. Things are busier there than here." Seriously, I don't know why the hell she thought I gave a shit about her being from New York, but she kept bringing it up. And no matter what I kept starting to say, she cut me off after about two words and went on to yell at me that she was going to contact our corporate offices and make sure I was fired because I was rude to her and because the store was so poorly run. This was happening in the middle of the cafe, right in front of all the customers and employees. AND the district manager and my store manager were just in the back room and could have walked out at any second.

She stormed out of the store, and I burst into tears. Right there in front of everyone. I don't know why that was my reaction, because I have dealt with plenty of shitty, rude customers. Though, none has ever been quite this bitchy. I had ridiculously bad PMS and I'm frankly just exhausted from how busy we've been lately because of the holidays. No matter how much someone loves their job, it's just not easy to smile for 8 hours straight and never snap at someone who's being an asshole. I'm pretty good at keeping myself under control, but after this women left, I totally lost it. Normally, though, when I lose it over something work related, I get mad, but this time I cried. It sucked. I couldn't stop working to go somewhere and pull myself together, because of how busy we were. There simply wasn't time. So I tried with everything in me to pull the tears back in and get over it all and focus on work. But I just couldn't. And I also couldn't go into the back room for a moment of privacy while I stopped crying, because that's where my bosses were and I especially didn't want the district manager to see me like this. So I tried to go into the bathroom, but there was a line. I felt so trapped and the tears were still coming, and I just looked ridiculous. Eventually, I was able to focus on work long enough to stop crying, until the DM left and my manager asked me to help her with something in the back room. As soon as I got back there, I burst into tears all over again. My manager said, "Oh no! What's wrong?" I told her and, honestly, I was a little afraid she'd have something critical to say about how I handled things, but instead she laughed and told me that if she had a dollar for every time a customer said something horrible like that to her or made her cry, she'd be rich. She was totally cool about it and even said, "I hope she does call corporate, bacause you did nothing wrong." But between the PMS and being overtired, it stuck with me all day and even though I didn't cry anymore, I was low for the rest of my shift. It sucked.

I don't think some people realize what a difference their behavior has on other people. Clearly, this bitch of a woman was in a pissy mood about something unrelated to me and has some issues of her own, but she took it out on me. Normally, I'd be able to shrug it off and just smile and say, "I'm so sorry. Please accept this coupon for a free drink next time you come in" while I was actually thinking, "Fuck you." But this time, she caught me at a bad moment and left me in a pile of inarticulate, weepy nerves.

When I came home and told my sister about it, she said I should have looked at the woman and said, "Go home. Go back to New York if it's so much better. And eat shit." I like that idea, but it wouldn't get me promoted to assistant manager.

On the other hand, I dealt with a crappy customer the other day, and my reaction was to laugh. This guy came in and purchased four pounds of whole bean coffee and after he paid, he asked if I could grind it for him. No problem. Before I turned around to get started on this, he slid a wrinkled five dolalr bill across the counter and told me that he was in the middle of dinner at a nearby restaurant and explained in detail where his table is. And then he told me to bring his ground coffee to him at this table in about 20 minutes.

!!!!!!

He seriously thought this was an acceptable request.

I wanted to laugh so hard, but I calmly apologized and explained that I couldn't do this, as for starters we don't deliver and mostly because I couldn't spare any of the staff for even a few minutes. He couldn't really comprehend what I was telling him, that I was saying No. I apologized again and promised that I could instead have his coffee ready to go and all bagged up so that when he was finished with dinner, he'd only have to come in and grab it off the counter. He was reluctanly satisfied with this answer and went on his way.

The next customers were a couple young women. They stepped up to the register and ordered drinks, and then one of the women said, "And I'd like for you to deliver this to me at a restaurant across town." And then she laughed and said she couldn't believe that guy's request (though it was more a demand than request). I died laughing and was so glad for the chance to release the laughter that had built up while dealing with the guy. She reminded me, "This is West Palm Beach, where people think they can buy everything. Of course if we were a mile away, across the intracoastal on Palm Beach, he'd have slipped you a hundred instead of a five."

So true.

The thing is, if we hadn't been busy and if he'd asked nicely, I might have brought him his coffee on my break, just to help him out and to be friendly. But since he was an asshole and since he thought he could make my day by offering me a lousy five dollars, there was no way in hell I'd do that. But it did give me a good laugh after he was gone.

Some of the people around here treat us like we're "the help" and only exist to make their empty lives easier. It makes me miss my old store, which is in a totally laid back, working class neighborhood with lots of artistic types who linger for hours chatting with us and nursing a $1.65 cup of coffee all day.

wednesday blah

2006-12-06T12:08:00.000-05:00

I know I need to post something new here, but I don't feel like it. So I'm going to post this update about how I don't feel like writing a real update. I took five days off work last week and this weekend, because Kathy came down for a visit, which was wonderful. But now that she's back in Cincinnati and we're both back at work, I'm in a post-fun slump. I hate that I live so far from my oldest, closest friend.

However, we did have a great time during her visit. We went to a Polynesian restaurant, which was so kitschy and outrageous and fun. And of course we also spent much time on the beach, at the nearby tiki bar, and going out to some of my hangouts here. It was fun for me to experience where I've been living, but through a vacationer's eyes...to remember that while I bitch and moan about living here (because it will never be my paradise, as it is for many others) some people pay lots of money to come here for vacation. Plus, Kathy really does love the south florida climate, so I know she was happy for a break from early winter temps up north.

Mostly, it was fun just to have much-needed time goofing off with Kathy.

But now...back to work and the usual stuff.

better than fiction

2006-11-27T23:11:00.000-05:00

I went to see Stranger Than Fiction the other night, and now I can't stop thinking about it. It's by far one of my favorite movies in years. Every single person in it was phenomenal, especially Emma Thompson and Will Ferrell. I've always loved Emma Thompson, but only in recent years have I started to appreciate Will Ferrell, his abilities, or his comedy. Elf made me appreciate his comedy, and now this movie made me realize how skilled an actor he really is, and honestly, I think he deserves an Oscar nomination for this performance. He was just so vulnerable and funny and sweet and charming and subtle and annoying and boring and vibrant...and everything that most normal people are at various times. Other comedians-turned-serious-actors tend to struggle with keeping their stand-up or sketch-comedy behavior in check when doing something more complex. For example, Robin Williams has the ability to be an amazing actor, but only when he reigns in his silly stand-up comedy behavior, which he sometimes has a hard time doing. Same can be said of Adam Sandler and Jim Carrey. But Will Ferrell was so in control the whole time, and I am utterly impressed.

Ferrell's performance aside, I am mostly in awe of the story and what it implies, or rather, how it handles those implications...if that makes any sense. The story deals with so many things, but one which speaks loudest to me is the issue of life versus art. Is art so important that life should ever be compromised for it? Is any art ever worth the loss of any life? Art---in all its forms, especially literary---is of supreme importance to me and how I prioritize my values. However, I've thought about this very issue before, but in a different context. (It may seem unrelated at first, but bear with me.) I am slightly obsessed with writing from the American south. There are the obvious examples, like William Faulkner, whose work I adore. But I also love the less obvious, lesser known writing, be it fiction or non-fiction, the stuff that can be found in current literary journals and magazines (check out my link on the right here to Oxford American...fabulous magazine). However, I believe that a large reason for the uniqueness of southern writing, that elusive quality which makes it a genre of its own, stems from the distinct--and not terribly uplifting--history of the south. That history is just loaded with extreme poverty, racism, bloodshed, natural disasters, starvation, etc. Not to mention the climate. There are of course endless wonderful things about the south, which also make it unique. But my point here is this: From all of the horrific and tumultuous moments in southern history came some of the most important and beautiful writing in human history (ok, that's subjective, but there's no denying its impact on literature and art). Was it worth it? If we could compromise and possibly even erase all of southern literature and its impact on other areas of literature and humanity in return for undoing the more unfortunate events in the south, would we? Should we, especially considering the longer-reaching impact such important art has on the rest of humanity?

I'm sure a million other contexts exist for the questions raised in this movie, but the issue of southern writing is the context closest to my personal affections, not to mention the fact that I've contemplated this very issue many times before. So seeing this movie has set this contemplation into motion again. The characters in the movie are faced with the choice between Will Ferrell's life (or that of his character) versus what could be one of the most important and beautiful novels of the time. Is one person's life valuable enough to sacrifice such a meaningful work of art? Or maybe nothing is really sacrificed after all, but merely reconsidered. The movie seems to say we can have both, the life and the art.

The other issue it brings up for me, which I'm not going to spend as much time on right now, is the presumed division between fiction and non-fiction. As I've said so many times before, in recent years, I've developed a deep love of and respect for creative non-fiction, a term which in itself says so much...the very idea of mixing "truth" with creativity, a concept that seems at once totally contradictory and utterly unavoidable. Is there really so much difference between fiction and non-fiction? Especially when the creative tools of storytelling (such as dialogue, narrative, and plot development) are used to convey a "true" story? The brilliance, of course, in creative non-fiction is as much the writer's ability to see the stories real life offers as it is to write those stories and to write them well. Emma Thomspon's character in the movie thought she was writing a novel, something that is, by definition, fiction. And yet her protagonist turned out to be a real person, living an actual life of his own, and her story was his real life. Does that by default make her novel suddenly a memoir or biography, rather than a novel (which implies fiction, something that didn't really happen)?

Oh my god, the questions this movie raised for me are endless, and if I continue to write them here, I'll have a never-ending blog post. I have plenty of my own hypotheses and beliefs to some of those questions, but mostly they are my own personal theories. The questions in my mind are--I think--more interesting than any answer I or anyone could attempt to give.

So all this was to say that I really liked the movie.

more fun with less hair

2006-11-21T20:46:00.000-05:00

I went into my bedroom just now to go to sleep, but I am sorely behind on my blogs and I won't be able to get to sleep until I've posted something.

First, the weather here is beautiful! Right now it's 50 degrees. The temps have been that mild all week, and that makes me so happy! It's pretty amazing, the correlation between the weather and my mood. Naturally, the native floridians are freaking out. Ok, maybe not freaking out, but I am seeing people in gloves and scarves. Seriously. And we are ridiculously busy at work right now, as everyone wants hot chocolate. But most importantly, Murphy loves this weather. He trots around on our walks at a much more brisk pace, tail wagging, nails (which need to be clipped) clicking away beside me on the sidewalk, big puppy smile on his face. He's so damn cute!

Also within the past week, I have had two haircuts. First was the big one, when I initially had a lot of it cut off, but throughout the rest of the day and especially the next morning, I couldn't help but feel like it was too heavy on top and in the front--like it needed to be thinned and shortened just a tad more. So I went back to the lady who did it the first time, fully intending to pay for a whole new cut, but she trimmed it up and didn't charge me, which was fun. It's REALLY short now. Shortest it's ever been. Short and choppy and a little spikey in places. And I don't have to do a damn thing to it when I'm getting ready to go somewhere. YAY!

I've also been in one of my outgoing social moods recently and have been out a lot. Last Thursday was the first night in weeks when I actually got off work early enough to do something, and since I was off the next day I didn't have to worry about being in bed by a certain time. So I met up with friends down in Lauderdale and by 3-something in the morning, we were all tossing our clothes onto the sand at the beach and splashing around in the ocean. Oh, it was fabulous. Clear, intoxicating weather (though warmer than now), energizing ocean water, and an empty beach in the middle of the night. And sand in everyone's jeans, shoes, cars, and apartments afterward...but totally worth it.

This past Sunday was one of my favorite days since moving here. First, I met up with Becca, Angela, and Holi for an early lunch, where we talked about Angela and Holi's recent trip to Mexico City and then took turns telling our favorite stories of insane and outrageous monarchs throughout history. By the way, my favorite outrageous monarch is Eleanor of Aquitaine (or here is wikipedia's page on her). Not at all insane, but fabulously interesting as well as controversial in her time. Angela and Holi told us a fascinating story about the king and queen who resided in the castle in Mexico City, which was such a great story, though I can't remember their names. Maybe when Angela and/or Holi read this, they can supply it in their comments...? ;)

After lunch, we all went to Borders where we sat in the cafe for hours talking books, school, and other awesome nerdy stuff while comparing signatures.

Then part three of the day started when all of us went to the bar to watch football and hang out with some other friends. Most of us were there til about 9 or 10 that night, which is about when I headed home.

Perfect day: a yummy greek salad with fun conversation, coffee with books and more fun conversation, and then beer with football and yet more fun conversation. I love my friends here. I didn't want the day to end.

I'm happy tonight.

One week from tomorrow, Kathy will be here!

addendum

2006-11-13T15:39:00.000-05:00

Let me just clear up that my mom loves to read and she has always loved that I love to read. The only reason she said that in the library so many years ago was that she was so angry with me and was at a loss. I had just pushed her too far. In a normal state of mind, she'd never try to prevent anyone, especially a teenager, from reading. However, I was such a pain in the ass back then that I rarely gave her the chance to be in a normal state of mind.

:)

what not to say in a library

2006-11-13T04:25:00.000-05:00

Most of you know I love school. I have a master’s in literature and I would like to some day get at least one more graduate degree. I taught college writing for a few years and loved it, and I plan to teach again someday. While most of my students liked me, it was never my objective to make them like me, and I am a strict teacher who expects a lot from students.

But what some of you don’t know is that I was a horrible student in high school. Really, one of the worst of all time. I went from being a straight A, honor roll student throughout grade school and junior high to being so dreadful that there was always a moment at the end of each school year when I’d breathe a sigh of relief when I learned that I did in fact pass that year.

I’d refuse to read any of the assigned books in our literature classes, but I’d read 500-page novels of my own choosing outside of school. Sometimes I’d read them during English class, while the teacher (my arch-nemesis throughout high school) would glare at me, knowing I hadn’t read the assigned work. In Algebra II, I put my head down on the desk everyday and slept. Didn’t try to hide it. And in the required religion classes, I usually refused to do most of the work and deliberately put the wrong answers on all the tests (I did happen to disagree with most of what we were supposed to be learning in religion class, but back then it was more stubbornness than conviction). Also, once I apparently refused to buy the text we needed for a class called “Lifestyles in Christianity” saying “I don’t believe in that crap.” My dad got a call from the principal over that one. Actually, they got calls from the school constantly. My parents were probably on the assistant principal’s speed dial.

Otherwise, I really wasn’t a bad kid. I was always in trouble over grades and such, but I rarely did many other things wrong. I never ever drank in high school. I worked part-time from the time I was 15. I didn’t get into much trouble because of anything in my social life. Then again, I was grounded all the time because of stupid shit I did at school, which is probably why I didn’t have a chance to get into much non-school trouble.

Anyway, at the very beginning of 10th grade, when there was still some hope of getting my act together and being a decent high-school student, Miss Littner (the aforementioned arch-nemesis English teacher) didn’t really like me. That’s ok, since I didn’t like her. Everyone else in the school thought she was the coolest. However, she made me want to throw up. Imagine Barbie as a super-conservative, Catholic, high-school English teacher. That was Miss Littner. I didn’t have any issues with her at first. But shortly after the school year started, she mentioned that later in the year we were going to read To Kill a Mockingbird, which I had already read and loved. I knew the book by heart at that point, and I was beyond excited that I’d have another chance to read and discuss it. After class one day, I went to her and told her I’d already read it, and I was about to say how excited I was about the prospect of reading it again. But she cut me off mid sentence and said, “Yeah, well you’ll just have to read it again and not complain. Don’t expect to be excused from the work.” She had such a sour look on her face. She totally squashed my excitement and didn’t give a shit about my love for that book. It was horrible, and from that moment I hated her and her class. And I hated the rest of the school for thinking she was so brilliant. That encounter sort of set the tone for my high-school years and my relationship with all my teachers there. My stubborn defiance kicked in and any hope of me becoming a good student again disappeared.

Later that year, Miss Littner assigned a term paper, using research and references and everything. It was the first research paper for us, so this was a big deal and the class spent about an entire quarter on it. Except for me. I didn’t do it. Nothing. Didn’t write one single word. Never did any research, not even an outline. I didn’t care. And neither did Miss Littner. She knew I wasn’t working on it, and she never said a word to me about it. The deadline came and everyone turned in their papers. Not me. Weeks later, she returned the graded papers. Still didn’t say one word to me about my missing paper. Never once questioned me. The thing is, this paper was a requirement for passing 10th grade. So the night before the last day of school that year (several months after the research project was over), Miss Littner called my mom at home and told her I never turned in that research paper, which meant I’d have to repeat 10th grade. My mom just about crapped her pants, since she knew nothing about this. But she was also furious at Miss Littner for not having called her earlier in the year to tell her about this, rather than waiting until 8pm the night before the last day of school. So as a compromise, Littner gave me one week to write this paper, which would give her enough time to grade it before her final grades were due to the school.

I remember hearing my mom’s end of this phone call and knowing exactly what it was about and fearing for when she the conversation would end and she’d turn her attention to me. It was bad. I heard the phone hang up, and then mom yelled my name across the house. This shit hit the fan hard. It clobbered the fan. I was in so much trouble. But I felt a tiny sense of satisfaction over the fact that I knew mom was almost just as pissed off at Littner for having dealt with it all the way she did, but I couldn’t let on to anything other than pure humbleness and humility.

I spent the next several days at the library writing the world’s worst research paper. At this point, I wasn’t even allowed to choose my own topic, as my classmates had been able to do. My dad assigned one for me. He made me write about President Kennedy, one of his heroes. Normally I loved the library, but this particular week almost ruined the whole place for me. At any given moment during this ordeal, at least one of my parents sat right next to me in the library and watched me work. It was so uncomfortable. I could feel their frustration, anger, and disappointment hovering in the air over us the whole time. They were both too angry at me to talk and I know that the whole time, all each could think was “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Finally, I finished it, and it was time to type it. This was back before most people had computers or even word processors in their homes, so we used the typewriters in the library. Finally, we finished it. This was a group effort, and the paper I’m sure was lousy. But we did it, and that meant I’d passed the 10th grade.

After finishing with the typewriter, we gathered our stuff to leave the library. Since the paper was finished, which meant my summer break was about to begin, I started thinking about some books I wanted to check out from the library to read during the first few weeks of break, when I was going to be stuck at home grounded. Before we headed to the door, I stopped my mom and—having already forgotten the trouble I was in—told her I wanted to grab a couple books. Well, she was evidently still raw with anger because she exploded. “YOU’RE GROUNDED!” I replied that I just wanted to get some books to read. She said, “You’re in so much trouble! You’re grounded from everything you like to do, and that includes reading. YOU’RE GROUNDED FROM BOOKS!! NO READING FOR YOU!” She really did yell this in the library, and the entire place stopped and stared at us for an uncomfortable few seconds.

It was an odd moment. I mean, really. Who gets grounded from books???

So I spent the first couple weeks of the summer after 10th grade in hideous trouble and grounded from books. I can’t remember what I did with my time then, other than bum around the house and back yard with my sister each day.

Who knew I’d eventually grow to love school so much that I crave it anytime I’ve been away longer than a year or two. Of course, college is so different from high school, and graduate school is even more fascinating and esoteric by comparison. Knowing myself now, it makes total sense to me that I hated high school, loved college, and now can’t get enough grad school.

But still, I can’t imagine having made choices since then that would have surprised my 15-year-old self more. Back then, if someone had told me that I’d go on to spend four years as an English major and then a total of three years getting a master’s in English, I’d have laughed my ass off. And if someone had told me I’d then go on to teach the stuff, I’d never have believed it. Not in a million years.

On the other hand, when I was teaching a few years ago, if you’d told me that by now I’d work at Starbucks in West Palm Beach, I’d have sworn it was a ridiculous lie. And yet here I am. Who knew?

Kind of makes me wonder where I’ll be in a few years that would surprise me now.

(By the way, my mom has since admitted that grounding me from books was a tad irrational. But then, I was the reason for her irrational mood at the time. We've also laughed about that whole scene in retrospect.)

lots and lots of people

2006-11-12T12:32:00.000-05:00

Wow, I can't believe it's been almost a week since my last post. This week has been that busy. Actually, all I have done for the past week is work, but work has been nuts and it feels like I have barely been home because of it. For example, on Wednesday I worked from 8-4:30. And then I went back at 11 and after the store closed, a few of us had to change out all the displays, which kept us there until 4am. Also, we've had a number of no-shows from some of our young-ish employees (the ones for whom this isn't a real living, who still get money from their parents and don't need their job and can afford to treat it with absolutely no respect). When someone does that they get fired, which is fine by me. But in the meantime, it leaves the rest of us on that particular shift shorthanded, which makes for a completely insane experience.

Last night was one of those times. We were short two people, and it was by far the busiest night I have ever experienced there. The line went from the registers to the door and usually out the door from a few minutes after I arrived at 5:30 until fifteen minutes before closing at 1am. Nonstop. There were four of us on the floor during this, and I had to make sure everyone got their adequate breaks, which meant at times we only had three people on the floor. I'm a stickler for making sure everyone gets their breaks, especially in situations like this, where everyone needs to step away for a while and take a breather or they'll go nuts.

It was insane. This is what I don't get: If I'm out somewhere and decide I want coffee, but I come across a line that goes out the door, there is no way in hell I am going to stand in that line. With all due respect to the people who keep our store in business, I can't believe anyone would stand in that line and then subject themselves to the crowd in the other parts of the store.

So anyway, in addition to the crowds last night and being short-staffed, our sanitizer/dishwasher wasn't working right, which meant scrubbing and sanitizing everything by hand after we closed....everything. We closed at 1, were supposed to finish cleaning up the store by 2, but in reality, we didn't leave until 3. That's AM. It got to the point where my co-workers and I could only laugh. It was maniacal laughter, but laughter nonetheless.

This is the trade-off for having been transferred to such a busy store and for being promoted in going there. I miss the actual coffee shop atmosphere, which is annihilated in the crowds we get at my new store. It doesn't exist, and that makes me a little sad, as it's why I have loved this job from the start.

Honestly, I don't know how much better tonight will be, since one of last night's no-shows was also on tonight's schedule.

Thankfully, I can stop at any moment and toss back a couple shots of caffeine during my shift. I need it.

On the other hand, I am excited because in just a couple weeks, Kathy will be down here for a visit. I am off the whole time she's here, and I can't wait to relax and tear things up around here with her.

peaceful end to my chaotic day off

2006-11-06T23:09:00.000-05:00

Wow, it is so beautiful out tonight. Cool, dry air. Breeze. Low patches of white clouds, backlit by the moon, which make the sky look like a cathedral ceiling. I stopped by the beach tonight and sat there for a good 30 minutes. The wind was fast and the waves were big and splashy.

I love when I go stare at the ocean late at night and way off on the horizon I can see a huge ship, all silently lit up and tiny in the distance. I saw one tonight; I think it was a cruise ship, which means it was probably full of happy and--let's face it--probably drunk vacationers. Based on where it was, I'm sure it left port today and the passengers have just started their vacations. I've been on a couple cruises now and they can be fun, though it's not really my favorite way to travel and I probably won't go on anymore. But still. I'm envious of the people on this one, who are probably on their way to new places and about to have a new adventure.

That boat was the only one I saw tonight. Otherwise, the ocean was all waves and sparkly reflections of the moon.

The pier at this beach is sort of old, and a huge chunk of it was destroyed during one of last year's hurricanes, so it's broken up into stretches of pier with big gaps in between. On the end that's connected to the shore, there's a popular restaurant, though I've never eaten there. The city has recently approved a plan to rebuild the pier over the next year or so. This is great news, and the town of Lake Worth will benefit greatly from it. But I have to say that there is something sweetly old-world about the broken-down pier. Something a little romantic even. At night, the silhouette of the gaps and splintered ends against the ocean is beautiful. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad for the repairs that are planned. But until that plan goes into action, I don't mind the weathered look of the pier, the gaps where parts of the structure gave way to the winds, and the scars left on the parts that remain standing.

my day off so far

2006-11-06T15:44:00.000-05:00

Anti-biotics are lovely. A terrible but wonderful necessity. I know the sick bugs are still present, but I can feel myself getting better every minute of every day. Yay!

Today was supposed to be a day off, which was severely needed after having a rough closing shift last night (SUPER busy, while I was working alone with two trainees). So I woke up and rounded up my sister, who is also off today, and we went to my store for some coffee. When I got there, one of my co-workers said, "You're here early. The meeting isn't until 1." Turns out we had a meeting scheduled today that I wasn't aware of. And to make matters worse, the district manager (who I am shamelessly trying to impress so I can be promoted to assistant manager and then eventually to full manager as soon as possible) would be there, and we had to be in dress code for it. I was standing there with messy hair, wearing ripped up jeans and a t-shirt. And it was 12:10 pm. AND the store is across town from where I live.

My sister and I got back in my car and raced home. We felt like we were in a video game, like the music of Super Mario Bros or the like was playing somewhere in the background, as I dodged traffic and avoided getting stuck behind the geriatric drivers who have made their seasonal migration down here for the winter months. We got back home by 12:30, I changed clothes in no time, and I was back in the car by 12:33. I made it back to work by 12:56.

Shew...

The meeting was fine but not earth-shattering. Still, I'm glad I made it back in time.

Now I'm home again and I just realized I haven't had a crumb to eat all day. And I think I'm still a little sweaty from the stress of racing to get to the meeting in time. Attractive, eh?

too groggy for a title

2006-11-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

Went to the doctor yesterday and got some antibiotics and mega-strength cough syrup. It seems I just have some vague upper-respiratory infection, something viral. Big relief, since I was certain it was something horrible and exotic and deadly.

While waiting for my prescriptions to be filled, I went across the street to Target, where I bought the cutest slippers with ladybugs on them:

They have definitely helped me feel better.

Also, yesterday morning I called my manager at work and told her I what was going on. She was in the middle of the morning rush and said she'd call back. So I turned on a movie, got snuggly under some covers with the dogs around me, and took a loooooong medicine-induced nap. When I woke, I realized I hadn't heard back from work, so I figured I needed to be there as scheduled, which really depressed me. But I got ready and dragged my ass in. They all looked at me like I was a ghost. Apparently, they had found someone to cover my shift, and each person thought the next person had called to let me know. It didn't matter to me that nobody had called. I was just thrilled that I could turn around and go back home.

I went home and put on my new slippers and some pjs again and stayed inside all night. Looking back at my sick-day wish list from yesterday, I managed to get everything on it! Except for the soup, but that was by choice (I changed my mind on that one).

Since I'm all doped up on meds now and feel like death isn't quite as near as it was yesterday, I'm going to work tonight. But I'm going to stay on register or doing things in the back room, as I don't think I should be making drinks for people.

In the meantime, rain is pouring down outside, I have the house to myself, and the dogs are looking especially floppy and snuggly right now. So I'm going to get under blankets and read for a while.

Who am I kidding? I'm going to fall asleep again.

sick

2006-11-03T08:03:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'm STILL sick. And worse than before. I'm waiting to hear from the doctor and hopefully get an appointment this morning. I don't have my own doctor down here, so this is my mom's doc, but I really wish I was seeing my doctor in St. Louis. She is great.

Whatever the hell is wrong with me sucks. I actually think it might be either bronchitis or possibly even pneumonia. The worst part is the coughing; it's keeping me up most of the night. My voice is wheezy and scratchy. I have no energy. My entire face is leaky.

I wasn't feeling great when I went to work yesterday morning, but at that point it just felt like a minor annoyance--which is how it has felt for a few days. As the day went on, I felt progressively worse. And by last night, I was certain death was about to come knocking on my door. Naturally, I had to cancel plans last night, and that made me sad because I was really looking forward to going out. I'm supposed to work from 5pm until 2am tonight, but I can't imagine anything less feasible than that right now.

This is my current wish list:
-anti-biotics (or something to make me feel better asap)
-new fuzzy slippers, as mine are getting old and the fuzz has flattened and only new fuzzy slippers could possibly make all this more tolerable.
-hot and sour soup from the Chinese take-out down the street
-the night off work (and I hate to miss work at this job, truly, so my saying this is a testament to how sick I am)
-lots of sleep next to my Murphy

Depending on whether I get in with the doctor this morning, I might be able to acquire all or at least most of these things in one trip out into the world and a couple phone calls.

cough drops, not halloween candy

2006-11-01T14:33:00.000-05:00

Halloween was ok here last night. It rained a lot, so there were some nervous kids, worried they'd miss out on it all. My neice dressed as Pocahontas and my little brother (who is 12) dressed as a vampire; they looked really cute. Murphy isn't bothered at all by all the visitors all night; he mostly stayed in his usual spot on the floor in the living room. But Maggie hated it. She barked all night at every single child that came to my parents' door. I thought her head might explode.

I love halloween but I didn't feel well so I just didn't have the energy to get into it last night. I don't know what the hell my problem is, but this is the second time this month I've been sick and have lost my voice. Something is being passed around at work and here at home, so every time I finally get rid of it, someone else gets it and then a few weeks later I get some slightly mutated version of it again. I feel like crap and can't stop coughing and sleeping. And just like before, I can't talk. I suppose it's good that I was off yesterday and today, so I've been able to lie around in pjs and consume mass quantities of cold meds and vitamin C. Hopefully I'll feel better for work tomorrow. But it's such a bummer to have to spend two days off like this. I had plans, damn it!

Well, I'm feeling completely sluggish and bland at the moment, so I'm going to stop writing for now.

seven years ago

2006-10-31T02:11:00.000-05:00

I started writing this earlier in the day and then had to stop for work. Now, it's well after midnight so this will say it was posted on October 31, but it was meant for October 30th. So let's just pretend that's what it says.

Seven years ago today I got married. It was a beautiful afternoon wedding in Cincinnati, followed by a soul-touching trip to New England, where we dipped our hands in Walden Pond, stood on a cliff over the coast of Maine, and saw New Hampshire’s Old Man of the Mountain before he fell. And then we moved to St. Louis and started our married life.

That first year in St. Louis was our first year of marriage, and despite my ex’s amazing sense of adventure about it all, I probably made it more difficult than I needed to. Until then, I thought I liked change, but as I learned during that period, I actually don’t always adjust well to different environments. I missed my hometown and my family. Also, I had not yet fully grasped a number of things about myself and I am sure that on some level I was already confused, despite my happiness about being with him.

My ex and I had four sweet, fun—and at times confusing and nerve-wracking—years of marriage before I faced a couple major realizations and we went our separate ways. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s already been seven years since we got married, but mostly I can’t believe it’s only been seven years. It feels like a thousand years ago, because I have had at least ten lifetimes since then.

My ex-husband and I are on good terms now and do touch base with each other from time to time. He is re-married and has a home in St. Louis. And he is happy. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but I am glad to have had those years with him. He’s an incredible person and is still part of who I am now.

great game and a great movie

2006-10-28T14:01:00.000-05:00

I'd give anything to have been in St. Louis last night. Not even necessarily at the game, just at a bar or a friend's house in the city. Close enough to hear the cheers and see the fireworks over Busch Stadium. I of course watched the game on tv down here. It was a good time, and lots of text messages were exchanged with some St. Louis friends when we won.

SO EXCITING!

After the game, I watched Prairie Home Companion on DVD, which I never did get around to seeing in the theater. I loved it! If you never listen to the show on NPR, you might like it, but I think it largely appeals to the radio listeners. I say this only because the movie doesn't follow a traditional plot line and incorporates a lot of storytelling and non-sequiturs and is so much more character driven than most movies. Not everyone likes this approach, but the radio show is similar and the kind of people who like the radio show will appreciate these qualities in the movie. I could spend forever listening to Garrison Keillor tell stories. And listening to the music in the movie and on the show. Oh, and Kevin Kline stole the show as Guy Noir with the little hints of his character Otto from a Fish Called Wanda, only sweeter. Funny as hell.

I must buy the movie and the soundtrack!

I wish I had more time to write about the movie and why it touched me the way it did, which goes way beyond the movie or the radio show. But as always, I have to get ready for work. If I have the energy when I get home, I'll write more. But it might have to wait until tomorrow morning.

florida without the heat and humidity is definitely tolerable

2006-10-25T14:05:00.000-05:00

I'm home, some of my work clothes are in the washer, the dogs are sleeping at my feet, and I finally have some time for my blog.

Let's see. Well, the Cards are up 2-1 in the World Series, with game four tonight in St. Louis. That's pretty exciting, though I had to work last night and missed all but the last couple innings of that game.

The Rams had a bye, so I expect them to be in top form for the Chargers this Sunday. The Bengals won, but not by much. Still, it's a W on their record.

So anyway, let's back up. Saturday was an interesting day at work. As I've mentioned here, I've been transferred to a different and very very VERY busy store. This is good for professional reasons, but the store itself has a lot of issues that need to be dealt with. Lots of bad habits and substandard work ethics from a lot of the staff there, largely I guess because many of the baristas there are so young. I had had a long, not very successful week trying to pinpoint ways to deal with these issues there as a supervisor and also trying to position myself as someone with some authority, which isn't always easy when trying to also make some changes. I worked until 2 am Friday night and had to be back at 9:30 Saturday morning, by which time I was dragging and my spirits were on the ground. I felt defeated and like maybe I was being overly critical of this other store and maybe I was the one who needed to re-examine my own habits, etc. People there aren't warming up easily to the things I want to change, nor are some of them respecting my ability to run shifts. (This is not the case with everyone; some people there are awesome and I am so excited to be working with them.) After an hour on the clock Saturday, two baristas from my old store came in and were apparently covering shifts for people, which I didn't know. I was delighted to see them! They both immediately clocked in and enthusiastically said, "What do you need us to do?" They were awesome and made my work day. I had two members of my original team at this new store, if only for a day, and they both noticed the same problems there that I did and were both equally helpful in trying to improve things, even if they aren't there permanently. It made me so happy. And it reassured me that I am not being overly critical and that I am good in positions of authority and that, essentially, I'm not the one with the problem in this case. I was right! But of course, this only means that I have a long road of trying to fix things there.

After work, I went to a party at my friend Becca's house, which was--as expected--lots of fun. Becca is awesome. One of the first friends I made after moving down here, and she has been so sweet about getting me out there, introducing me to people, giving me a place to belong, and helping me enjoy my time here. I've met so many wonderful people through her, and I can't imagine how crappy things would be if none of that had happened.

One thing about Becca is that she likes to have people at her place. She likes to give people a place to be. And she throws some kick-ass parties. This most recent one was no exception. It included a totally insane game of truth or dare, a roomfull of lesbians, one gay man, a straight boy who's birthday we were celebrating, and the birthday boy's straight friend who none of us knew prior to the party, and who will likely never be the same after spending several hours with the likes of us. I'm pretty sure we totally corrupted a sweet innocent 22-year-old guy who had no idea when he arrived what he was about to walk into. I think I saw his ears cry during truth or dare.

Only one person actually left Becca's Saturday night. The rest of us either passed out or fell asleep; we were scattered around her townhouse. It was a good time and was fairly harmless. Also, I was one who slept, not passed out because I didn't drink so much, so I felt great the next day. Success!

Sunday was football day, even without a Rams game. I actually spent all day--from the time I got home from Becca's around 11 am until after game 2 of the world series late that night on the sofa in my pjs. I was so lazy, but it was wonderful and relaxing, and after the week I'd had at work, I deserved it.

Well, I did spend some time emailing Angela back and forth about poetry versus prose and the complexity of the short story form. And T.S. Eliot. And about cute little birds who wander into places where they aren't expected--like this one who joined my mom, sister, and me at a cafe in Florence, Italy:

How cute is that?

I opened Monday, which meant getting up in the middle of the night to go to work---and of course that's only a partial joke. Work was great and so was the nap I took when I came home. Monday night was all about one thing of course: Monday Night Football. Went back to Becca's to watch, but this time there was no truth or dare. Just a good time watching the Cowboys lose.

The weather here is fabulous (words I never thought would come from me), and yesterday was the best yet. As I said, to me it feels like early fall up north. Long sleeves, but a jacket would be too much. Floridians, however, aren't handling it well. We were swamped at work last night, with people in several layers of sweaters and jackets rushing in for hot chocolate and coffee. I actually heard someone's teeth chatter. It's amusing to witness this. It has also put me in a much better mood, but I know this weather won't last so I am trying to be outside as much as I can while it does last.

I'm off today. I plan to post this, run some errands, get some coffee, and then later on come back with another post. I've been so social lately, which isn't like me. It's been fun, but I crave some solitude and time with the book I'm reading as well as time with my own words. Maybe I'll talk more about that poetry vs. prose stuff. And I'll definitely get cracking on that top 100 books list. Still haven't finished it, but getting closer. Sort of. And it's been weeks since I touched the story I'm working on. It still needs a ton of work, but I definitely work best in revision so I feel positive about it, though there is so much work left to do. In a way, maybe unconsciously, I'm afraid to finish it because then I'll have to make a choice: put it away and forget about it or send it out and try to get it published. The latter of course is the better choice and the goal I'm working towards, but then that means dealing with rejection, which is scary.

Now, I'm going to take the dogs outside to play.

friends, weather, and what else? coffee

2006-10-24T11:38:00.000-05:00

All my friends here are so sweet. I am lucky.

However, it is because of these sweet fun friends of mine that I have been a bad blogger again this week. They are so much fun that I haven't been home much and have become negligent towards the blogging I so love. I was at a party saturday night that lasted until the next day. And last night we watched monday night football, and I only just now came home (it's 12:30 on Tuesday). And in between this, I have been working.

And now, of course, I must get ready for work again. But I will return after the Cardinals game tonight to write more about the past few days in the life of me.

One more thing for now: today is by far the most beautiful day since I moved here. Cool, clean, non-humid air, a breeze. It feels like a mid-september day up in St. Louis. I keep seeing people here in long sleeves today, and it's cracking me up, because it's only cold to Floridians. This would be perfect camping weather, if I hadn't left all my camping stuff in storage in St. Louis.

thursday night at the moon

2006-10-20T14:37:00.000-05:00

I have been working off and on today on my top 100 book list, but it's not ready to post just yet. It might take a while, because first I have to narrow the list to a hundred, and then of course I have to rank them. Ranking them will take the longest, I think. The top five are not a problem for me, but it's the rest that might cause some internal dispute.

Otherwise, I've spent the day doing laundry, hanging with Murphy, emailing people, and reading. I don't work until 6:15, so it's almost like having a day off. Well, except for the part about how I have to work until 2am and then be back at work at 9:30am tomorrow. But that's ok.

As I put in an email to Angela very early this morning, or extremely late last night--however you want to consider 4am--last night was broken up into several chunks, and all were fun for their own reasons:

1. I worked until 8:15. When my shift ended, I changed clothes at work and did my best to cover up the steamed milk/coffee smell, which while nice when you're ordering a latte, isn't exactly how I like to smell when I go out with friends.

2. Left work and went directly to meet up with one of my friends at the house of one of her friends, where we theoretically had game night, but instead sat around with beer and talked and laughed. Most of us there currently or at some point have worked with kids or in some incarnation of the education field, so we compared horror stories, which is always a riot. Other than my friend, I had never met any of these people, and felt weird going to a stranger's house, but it was all cool. Everyone was awesome. And by the way, this house was huge. On my way in, I actually had to stop at a gatehouse, where a guard asked me whose home I was going to, wanted to see my ID, and called the guy's house to confirm before he'd let me in. This was a new and bizarre experience for me.

3. Suddenly after a couple hours, my friend and I decided to leave and go to New Moon, the bar in Lauderdale. We followed each other there, and then she went to her friends, and I went to mine (strange when two people who don't really have mutual friends hang out and then suddenly return to their respective posses). Well, that's not exactly how it happened. First I stood in front of the tv on the patio for a long time and watched the rest of the Cardinals game, surrounded by lesbians who are transplants from New York and who weren't too thrilled with my cheering when the Cards beat the Mets. Then, I went in and found some of my buds, who were already ass-deep in karaoke, which is the Thursday night ritual for most of them, though I'm just a spectator in this event. There are already lots of videos and pics floating around the internet of a couple performances, so some of you may have already seen them. I did not sing, but rather took some of the pictures, so thankfully, I'm not documented at all. This is a good thing.

4. Spent several hours with them and the bar was quieting down as the night came close to being over. Then, the friend I started the night with found me again, but this time she was pretty drunk. So I left the bar to make sure she got home safely. Once back at her place, we went in and she wordlessly went into the kitchen to heat up soup she'd made earlier. It was actually some kick-ass soup, some of the best I've had recently. And I hear she's a fabulous cook, though I don't really know as she still hasn't made anything for me, other than this soup! ;) Then, half-way through her bowl of soup, she passed out, which I knew was coming at any moment. She was safe, her dogs were happy she was there, so I headed home.

5. I arrived home at 3:45am. My drive home included a stop for gas and water. And lots of fabulous music from my ipod, which was lost for months and has recently resurfaced under a bunch of crap in my car.

6. Was too wired to sleep for a long time after I got home, so I sent out some email and uploaded some pics I took at the bar. Eventually, I went to sleep.

Fun night. And I managed to not get drunk. Had enough beer to completely relax and feel very happy, and then I left it at that. Or maybe it was laughing and watching people do karaoke that made me happy. Or maybe it was the Cardinals' victory. Or sitting back at times last night and taking in what fabulous friends I've made since moving here.

Time to take a shower and get ready for work...

this time we win

2006-10-20T08:12:00.000-05:00

I'm only a mild baseball fan, I'll admit. But after living in St. Louis for so long, I've come to terms with the fact that it's hard to not be a Cards fan and a baseball fan. So the past few years I've become a better fan. But I will also admit that I only pay much attention on opening day and during the 2nd half of the season. There are just too many damn games in a season and if I try to give a damn for all of it, I get baseball ADD and lose interest. Plus, my loyalties are split between the Cards and the Reds, and that's a hard line to walk as a spectator.

I digress. All I really wanted to say was this:

GO CARDS!

can't seem to stop sleeping this week

2006-10-19T11:27:00.000-05:00

Again, I can only write a pseudo-post with the plan to finish it later, since I have to leave for work in a few minutes. I've been incredibly sleepy lately, and it's prevented me from doing all sorts of stuff. Yesterday, I had to open the store, which meant getting there at 5:30 am. I do this a lot and have gotten used to it--even like it--so this wouldn't have been an issue had Murphy not thrown a temper tantrum in the middle of the night and insisted I take him out for a walk at 2:15 am. Turns out he really had to go, so I'm glad I didn't ignore him. But the good thing about that shift is that I get out of work when most people are just finishing their lunch breaks, so it's like I have a whole second day ahead of me. What did I do with it yesterday? I came home and slept until 6:30 pm. I was completely out for hours. Then I went back to bed after the Cardinals game last night (I knew it would go to game 7; they will win tonight) and then slept today until about 30 minutes ago. That's a lot of sleep, especially for me.

Anyway, this means I didn't have time to do here what I wanted to do today, which is start a list of my top 100 books. My friend Angela sort of challenged me to this task in an email, and for book nerds like us, this is not a challenge to turn down.

But it will have to wait until tomorrow, when I don't have to be at work til 6 pm.

a juvenile, cranky rant to my annoying anonymous reader who seems to think s/he knows something

2006-10-17T09:56:00.000-05:00

I wonder why you continue to read my blog, since you have problems with everything I write.

I am not going to continue to defend what I write here to some stranger who takes issue with me. If you disagree, stop reading. Or at least stop leaving pissy remarks---I am not ashamed of what I write or how I feel and none of your comments are going to change that. Further, as I have said SO MANY times before, send me an email if you have such problems that you absolutely must put them out there to me. Though, of course I think you get a thrill from leaving public comments and also because if you send email, it's not so easy to remain anonymous--and that's what you hide behind. That's stupid and cowardly.

You don't know me, yet you are the one who makes constant generalizations about me based on what I blog about. Believe me, there is so much I don't write here. I don't owe you or anyone anything in my blogging. It's an online journal for me, where I ramble and vent and can say whatever I want. It's not a place where I am required to be fair, pleasant, entertaining, happy, or whatever else you seem to expect from me.

I am going to completely stop approving your comments, even if they seem innocuous. I'm going to do this simply because I can and I think that will annoy you, and that seems fun, because you annoy me.

Pretty mature of me, isn't it?

And by the way, for future reference, do NOT tell someone with depression to "just relax." It's like telling someone with diabetes to just get over it. You clearly know nothing about depression and are totally insensitive to it. If it was as easy of "just relax" and "have a beer on the beach" or whatever you suggested, don't you think I'd have done that already?

As I was saying...

2006-10-17T01:32:00.000-05:00

My new store (which is only new to me) is just around the corner from a small christian university here in West Palm Beach. Because of this, many of our customers are students and faculty, which would be fine, but they aren't your typical college crowd. They all look an awful lot like the cast of the movie Saved. They are all white, squeaky clean, from wealthy republican families, and have probably never worked a day in their lives. They are smug about toting their bibles around with them, tucked under their arms as they order their soy chai lattes and sport new, expensive, trendy clothes. And they all have this "Whoever loves Jesus most wins!" attitude which nauseates me. They act like they are "good" and "moral" but all they do is pat themselves on the back for being so righteous and able to quote any bible passage, though they are full of total sanctimonious crap which fuels the disgusting right-wing mindset of our culture right now. These people praise themselves and each other for being christian, yet they close their eyes to real problems in the world and propagate hate, prejudice, homophobia, ignorance, racism, everything bad. They shelter themselves from reality, a world where people starve, where people don't have homes and new clothes, where not everyone gives a crap about how many bibles these people own. It's all pretense which gives them a false sense of morality. The only time they "help" people in adverse situations or in marginal communities, like when they do missionary work, is only with an agenda to "save" them, to sell their religion to them; it's never just to help for the sake of helping another human. They treat faith like currency, as they use it to move up in their little society, without ever stopping to question what they preach, to think for themselves, to stop being sheep.

Yeah, sure I'm making some generalizations here, but they are largely accurate.

They represent a faction in our country I can't stand, and it makes me a little crazy that I have to deal with them on a daily basis right now. On the other hand, I sure do get a kick out of knowing that I pretty much represent everything that scares the shit out of them. To them, I am probably the antichrist: a divorced atheist, feminist, ultra-liberal lesbian. Wonder if they'd still drink their coffee knowing who made it.

Yesterday, one of them tried to "save" a co-worker, who politely smiled and kept working. After these people left, my co-worker said, "Damn, I knew it would happen eventually. My worst nightmare in this store." I thought it was funny that he got cornered by a couple of them, though I probably wouldn't have been laughing if they'd tried it with me, which I am sure will happen eventually. I will behave myself when this happens, but I'm not going to pretend to have any respect for their world. They of course have a right to their beliefs, but their beliefs and the way they peddle them are damaging to the rest of the planet. They wouldn't tolerate me walking up to them and preaching about feminism, so why do they assume they have that right to preach unsolicited about their beliefs?

blog preview because I don't have time for a real one just now

2006-10-16T09:57:00.000-05:00

I'm about to go have lunch with my sister and mom, but I'm dying to write a blog update about this place, it's ultra close proximity to the starbucks I've been transferred to, and why this annoys the hell out of me. But that blog update will have to wait a few hours until I get home. In the meantime, see if you can guess what I'm going to say about it all!

Walk the Line

2006-10-13T09:46:00.000-05:00

Wow, I just watched Walk the Line. Holy crap that's a great movie! For some reason, I never got around to seeing it in the theaters, and then after the Oscars I still never got around to seeing it. But it's incredible, and anyone who hasn't seen it yet should. Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon are so good. So are the writing and all the technical aspects...the cinematography, editing, costumes, etc. Much better than your average biopic.

Of course, I cried at the end. But I cry at the end of a lot of movies. I'm a little ridiculous about that, actually.

shaggy hair and geography

2006-10-12T22:27:00.000-05:00

I'm so tired right now and I have lots of things I need to do, but my next day off isn't until Tuesday. I need to get my car's oil changed. I really need a haircut. And I'd like to sit around and read for a while. But I've been transferred to a VERY busy store, and the past week and upcoming couple weeks are all about making this transfer, which is a good thing in the long run, but I've been busy as hell because of it. Always glad for this, but still I look forward to this transition being over so I can have my down time back to myself.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I'm a little confused these days as to where to go next in life--geographically speaking. I planned to move to England next, which I still want to do. It's something I've always wanted. However, I suddenly am not sure that's the right choice right now. I'm also interested in New England (love it there and have always wanted to live there), as well as southeastern Canada. However, I can't figure out if I'm thinking this because either of those options would mean less wait and prep time, which means getting the hell out of florida sooner than if I go to England. The England plan will require me to stay here even longer, as there are so many more logistics to deal with and because it requires more money for the actual move. But I am unhappy in this part of the country, and I don't know if I can deal with living here any longer than absolutely necessary.

Is this a good enough reason for changing the England plans to something else? Or is that a cop-out? I know I want to live in these other places...always have. But I don't know which move would be best to pursue first.

All I know for sure is that I need a haircut, and I need to get it before I go to work tomorrow afternoon. I woke up the other day and somehow, overnight, my hair had grown that tiny amount which makes it way too long. It always works that way. One day it's fine, and the next day, that tiny extra length changes everything. It's out of control now and I feel like Snuffleupagus...too much crazy, hair.

By the way, how funny is it that Snuffy has his own Wikipedia page?! I love Sesame Street! According to the Wikipedia, Snuffy's grandmother lives in Cincinnati! I had no idea. Wonder why I never met her while I was growing up there...

National Coming Out Day

2006-10-11T08:26:00.000-05:00

Today is National Coming Out Day. Obviously, the hope is that gay people who are in the closet will stop being afraid and will come out. But for people who are already out and for straight allies, it's a good opportunity to show pride and support for the LGBT community.

This is the website for the Human Rights Campaign.

This is the HRC's page about coming out.

This is the HRC's page of resources for straight allies (straight people who want to be supportive of the gay community).

meltdown in the bath towels

2006-10-08T19:25:00.000-05:00

Despite my plans, I took a break from football today and spent some time with my mom. We hadn't had a day together in some time, so it was nice to get out and keep each other company. We went out to lunch, a few stores and then to get some coffee. All day, though, I could feel a sad mood approaching, but I didn't want mom to know since she gets so worried whenever depression sets in for me. So I covered it up well and tried to have fun. For the most part, I did have fun. Until we went into Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

Something about being in a place that's all about domesticity--however unrealistic some of their products and prices can be--along with the fact that Fall always makes me feel more like nesting than any other time of year, plus the fact that it's my favorite season and I hate not getting to experience Fall down in Florida this year...all these things layered on top of my already declining mood and led to a minor meltdown. We were walking the aisles of Bed, Bath, and Beyond (BB&B from now on) and I couldn't stop thinking about how sad I am that I don't have my own home (apartment, whatever) right now, a place that's all mine to do whatever I want with. I was surrounded by people getting fun autumn decorations and indulging in the time of year I live for. I also automatically thought of some other things that are too depressing to mention here.

Suddenly, the tears came and wouldn't stop. I didn't want my mom to see, simply because she's seen me cry so much since I moved down here, and I hate to worry her more than necessary. And naturally, I didn't want any strangers to see, just because that's never comfortable. So without saying anything, I made a dash for the towel section, which was in a corner where nobody else was shopping. I stood hidden behind a towering display of pretty blue and white towels and tried frantically to stop the tears and to wipe their traces off my face and eyes. And no, I wasn't using the towels for this; I had a tissue in my pocket. But of course, the harder I tried to stop, the faster they came. It was ridiculous. Finally after a few minutes, I sort of pulled it together enough to catch up with mom, who thought I was just looking at towels. But, being a mom, as soon as she saw me, she knew and tried to cheer me up by reminding me that life won't always be like this for me and that I'm working hard to move on to something better, and all the things I know but don't always believe.

Still, it didn't help. The more she comforted me, the faster and harder the tears resurfaced. I turned around and went back to the corner in the towels section, where I tried to pull it together in some semblance of privacy. But BB&B was crowded today, and it was hard to get away from everyone. Just as I almost had my shit together and was nearly ready to catch up with mom again, a sales lady came into my corner and asked if I needed help with anything. Since I was blowing my nose and trying to wipe away tears that were still coming, it was surely obvious to her that I wasn't back there trying to find a new set of towels for my bathroom. So. Did she walk away and leave me alone? No. She asked, "Can I help you find anything?" I sniffled and muttered, "No, thank you." And yet she remained with a weird smile on her face and said, "Are you looking for anything specific?"

I mean, really. What was she expecting me to say? "Yeah, I'm looking for a life. A place to live that I can afford while I try to save enough money to move to a different city sometime in the next six months. Closure on past relationships. The ability to forgive--others and myself. To let go of regrets. To stop dwelling on certain things I cannot control. To come to terms with my own shortcomings. Oh, and I wouldn't mind a few decent dates with someone, perhaps even a real girlfriend someday. Do you sell these things at BB&B? Can you help me find them? Oh, and do you have this towel in a pale green color?"

Instead, I walked away and found mom, who I'm sure didn't know what to think or do at this point. By now, trying to make my eyes look like I hadn't just been standing in the towels crying was pointless. So I put on my sunglasses. But everwhere I went there were people, and I felt weird and crowded and almost claustrophobic. People were everywhere. Shopping carts on my heels. Clusters of women searching for the perfect drapes. I stopped and before I even thought about what I was saying, this is what erupted loudly from my mouth: "Jesus! Can't anyone walk around a store crying without people getting in her way??!!"

As I said this, I could hear how ridiculous my outburst sounded and I started laughing. Mom cracked up. Then, I got the giggles and couldn't stop laughing. So at this point, I was wearing sunglasses in the middle of BB&B, my face was blotchy and wet, and I was giggling like a lunatic.

This, my friends, is why I take anti-depressants.

Still, it really was pretty funny.

Unexpectedly saying something a little insane and getting to laugh at myself for it didn't totally alleviate my weird mood, but it did lighten things up a bit and forced me to step outside myself for a second, which always helps me see that things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they are that bad, but that's ok. Perfection is boring and usually fake.

I'm hanging on to a decent mood for dear life tonight. Hopefully, it'll last long enough for me to sleep, go for my run in the morning and then get to work, where I'll be too distracted to worry about any of this. By the time work's over, I'll be fine again and any potential sadness will have passed completely.

In the meantime, I had a very nice day with my mom. Also, the Rams won. I got another raise at work. My voice is completely healed and my cold is gone.

blank...sorta

2006-10-07T22:19:00.000-05:00

My blog has been overdue for an update for a couple days now, but not because I haven't had time or have forgotten. I honestly can't think of anything to say here. It's the weirdest thing. It's blogger's block! I always have something to say, even when nothing out of the ordinary is happening, but for some reason I can't think of a single damned thing to say here.

I could talk about work, but I do that a lot and I get a little tired of writing about it here all the time. However, I understand why that is. My dating life is nonexistent, while the rest of my social life is only sporadically interesting, depending on my mood, since when I have a spell of depression I usually stay at home and avoid people. When I do go out, I have a great time with the various friends I've made down here. And most days, at some point regardless of anything else I do, I sit right here at this desk and write, but I write things I'm not going to post here on my blog. However, most of my life is consumed by work, which is a choice I've made. It's a coping mechanism, and I need my life to be this way for a while so I don't dwell on certain other things I'm unsatisfied with and can't necessarily control.

So anyway, that's why I write about work here a lot....simply because it's what I do with most of my time.

The problem is that I don't want to write about work tonight. But like I said, I can't think of anything else to blog about. How sad is that?!

Well, nothing terribly interesting.

I think my cold is finally gone after lingering for a week. I'm no longer chugging the DayQuil and my voice is pretty much back to normal, though for a few days it was totally zapped. All I could do was whisper and croak. But as it slowly returns to normal, it has that low raspy sound, which means I could almost sing along when Janis Joplin was on the stereo at work. It was great, though I'm not sure the customers agree.

Tomorrow is football day. Bengals have a bye week, and the Rams play the Packers in Green Bay. But I think I'm going to stay home to watch the games. The bar I've been going to is so much fun, but it's in Ft. Lauderdale, which is about a 30-35 minutes drive for me. I worked a 10-hour day today, and tomorrow is my last day off for over a week. So I sorta feel like lying around at home in my pjs to watch the games tomorrow. Maybe I'll crank up the a/c and bundle up in a sweater and blankets and pretend I still live up north, where Fall's cool weather has arrived.

At some point, either before or after the Rams play tomorrow, I'm going to go running. I used to run a lot, but not lately. I love running. It's a great way to exercise. It's been a while for me, so I suspect I won't get very far tomorrow. But I want to start running regularly again and I have to start somewhere, even if I can only go a mile at first. So I'll push myself as much as I can this first trip out. And I'll push myself a little further every time. It means I'll probably be too sore to move every morning when I wake up, but I'll get over that.

Oh, one last thing. The other day, I watched the movie Closer, with Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman. Holy crap, what a depressing, painful movie. I honestly don't know if I've ever sat through a more uncomfortable, pain- and anxiety-inducing movie ever. You know that feeling right when someone you really love is breaking up with you? That moment when the realization hits, especially if it's happening when there is another person involved? (Ok, if you don't know this feeling, consider yourself lucky; it's indescribably hideous.) Watching this movie is like re-living that feeling for two hours. And then being stuck with the memory of it for the rest of the day. It's horrible. Plus, each and every character in it is just despicable. I will say that the acting was fabulous, which is part of why the emotions struck me so hard, why I could feel the pain which was tangible in their faces and in their dialogue. Well made movie, but horrible to watch. The only thing I liked was the beautiful Damien Rice music on the soundtrack.

Well, I'm thirsty and Murphy needs to go out, so I'm going to go find some juice and walk Murphy. I'll blog more tomorrow night.

family values?

2006-10-04T08:16:00.000-05:00

Since I live in West Palm Beach and since I love when Republicans screw up, I suppose it's expected that I say something about the former Rep. Mark Foley debacle. I haven't said anything yet because, frankly, I don't think it needs much comment. It's all so pathetic that it's crossed over into humorous (except that there's nothing funny about pedophilia). Foley himself is what's humorous. What an idiot.

But just for kicks, here's his most recent list of reasons he sent inappropriate messages to those boys (expect this list to grow, as Foley and his lawyer add a new pathetic reason every day):

1. He's an alcoholic. Last I heard, alcoholism doesn't actually turn one into a pedophile, but I guess if using this excuse helps him cure his alcoholism, that's one problem solved.

2. He was molested as a child by members of the clergy. I am NOT one to defend clergy, especially of the catholic variety, but I'm just not sure I believe old Mark here. Regardless, this still does not justify his own pedophilia.

3. He's gay. What a loser! Now he's trying to get the gay community to rally behind him for sympathy. That's just what we need...someone else falsely claiming that being gay leads to pedophilia. Yes, thanks for that boost, you republican, focus-on-the-family asshole. He might really be gay, but he might just be using it as a pathetic excuse. Either way, don't try to get the gay community's support here. You know, the group of people he's systematically screwed over with his twisted, hateful conservative agenda and republican legislation.

I wonder what excuse he'll offer next for why he had to go ruin the well-being of several minors.

Asshole. I hope he goes to jail.

library thing!

2006-10-02T15:59:00.000-05:00

A new friend, Angela, told me about the coolest website for book lovers. It's called Library Thing, and you can create your own profile and enter the titles from your entire personal library of books (or I suppose the books you've read, even if you checked them out from the library instead of buying them). I just started my profile and catalog yesterday, so I've only entered a fraction of my books, but it's been interesting to read profiles and book lists of other members. I fear this could be a new internet addiction.

It's kind of paradise for book freaks like me!

i'll never understand

2006-09-30T23:44:00.000-05:00

Remember that thing a couple posts ago about going out with someone last week? Scratch that. Dating sucks. Apparently the lesbians down here have no interest in anyone with a brain. Unless you're some skank with a leathery tan, no social awareness, and who's main interests are beer and cigarettes, dating here is nonexistent.

Also, my throat hurts and I have no voice.

self-indulgent rambling about work/personal epiphanies

2006-09-29T12:16:00.000-05:00

A couple weeks ago, a guy came into the store and said, "I just hate starbucks coffee. But I want to buy a pound of beans. But I hate your coffee. So what kind should I get?"

At first, I thought he was kidding. But no, despite his preference for maxwell house and the like, he wanted to buy a pound of starbucks whole beans, and he wanted me to help him pick out a roast. I thought maybe this was a gift for someone else, but nope. He wanted this for himself. I couldn't (and frankly still can't) figure out why someone who claims to hate the taste of something would insist on buying it anyway. But regardless, I was very nice and helped him find a roast just right for his taste preference, which wasn't easy since he reminded me several times throughout our conversation just how much he hates our coffee. And I wasn't being a pushy sales person, as I tried to explain that he might not like any of our roasts, since they're all a much more distinct, strong flavor than what he's used to, even our mild roasts (I didn't say this in a coffee-snob way). But he was determined to buy at least a pound. We talked about at least a dozen blends, and he wrinkled his nose at all of them. Finally, I helped him settle on a user-friendly Latin blend, which isn't too offensive to someone not used to bold coffee. He paid and was on his way. In a genuinely friendly way, I asked him to stop by again sometime to tell us how he likes the coffee. I haven't seen him since. Oh well.

After he left, I was amazed at how nice I was with this guy. He was sort of a jerk and seemed bent on pissing me off, even though he was also bent on buying coffee he planned to not like. And not once did I want to kill him. The me from many years ago, the me who once worked in a bookstore, who worked in a few museums, the me who has worked in customer service areas before and hated it desperately, would have made some shitty, snyde remark to him, causing the man to walk out on the whole thing, while I stood there and fumed about how stupid people are. But I never once had the urge to act like that during this exchange. I didn't realize this until it was over, but I was incredibly friendly, helpful, patient, and genuine with the guy. And guess what. He was ultimately sort of friendly too! (Only sort of, because he was still a little bit of a pain. But we were both trying.)

I've noticed this phenomenon at various points every day at that job. I'm actually friendly to the customers. And I'm not faking it. I really, truly want them to have good coffee and pleasant service. And I want the store to look great and to be friends with the neighboring businesses. It's weird, because this isn't like me. Well, it isn't like the me before now. If that makes any sense. Clearly it is me now, though it didn't used to be.

In my former life (I don't exactly know what era defines that. I used to refer to my life before coming out three years ago as my 'former life' but now I'm not sure that's accurate. So is it pre-florida? pre-publishing work? pre-divorce? pre-grad school? pre-marriage? Sometime in the years that led up to where I am now, I guess), though I would never have admitted it, I made a lot of personal decisions based on what I thought other people expected. Sometimes I did things I thought people wanted me to do. Sometimes, I was spiteful and did things I knew they didn't want me to do. Either way, what I believed others expected always factored into my choices somehow.

In the meantime, I had no respect for most people I didn't know and disregarded everything any customer or stranger said. I hated any work that involved the public or customer service and was miserable at any job which involved the public. That's part of why I thought publishing might be good for me; a huge part of it requires you to sit in a cubicle staring at a manuscript on the computer. Not much interaction with the public. But as I've said here before, I hated that job and really didn't like myself while I had that job.

But I don't know why exactly I thought I'd like working in a coffee shop, especially starbucks, where it's 99% about human interaction. I just thought it would be good for me during a transitional period, and as it turns out, I'm very very good at it and the job itself isn't really a transition for me anymore. It's now a choice I've made, something I'm pursuing, a place where I want to move up and on.

But some days, I am mystified at how much I've changed with regard to working with the public. I'll hear myself say friendly, happy things to customers, and I can't believe it came from my own mouth...and that I meant it. And that's nothing to how it makes me feel on the inside. How happy I become when a strike up a fun conversation with one of our regular customers and make them a drink they love. Or better yet, when I start talking to a new customer who subsequently becomes a regular customer. It's a truly warm, satisfied feeling I've never known at work before. I came close to it when I was teaching developmental college writing (a nicer way of saying remedial writing), and one of my students would work hard all semester and end up with a higher grade than they'd ever had in the past. Or when one of them would tell me they aren't afraid of English anymore. Or when I was grading a paper that was surprisingly fabulous from a student who was on the verge of failing the course. I never thought I'd feel that kind of warmth, pride, and satisfation outside of teaching, but I've somehow found it here.

Yeah, I know. Helping someone buy coffee maybe doesn't really compare to helping someone hang on to the hope that they can make it through college or at the very least pass Freshman English. But they are both ways of helping people feel a little better. And, selfishly, making people smile at work makes me feel really good about myself.

I guess I'm still just surprised that putting on that apron and steaming milk for a latte creates this kind of personal satisfaction for me. And that I truly enjoy seeing and talking to our regular customers every day and meeting new ones who are in for the first time.

And then, the other night while I was sweeping the cafe, I made a possible connection between this and my personal life. I realized that in the past several months, I've worked hard to stop letting other people influence my choices, my self-esteem, my life. In the meantime, I've grown to love the public I work with. I think it was some sort of weird trade-off. In return for owning my personal life and my self-esteem, I have let go of that categorical annoyance and anger towards the general public. The more control I feel over my own life and the less I worry about others' expectations, the more comfortable I am at work, the more I want to create a comfortable place for our customers and community.

Maybe it's simply trading the need to please others in one capacity for that need in another. But I'd rather feel this need in my professional life than in my personal life.

Who knows...

So anyway, maybe that guy who bought the pound of coffee a couple weeks ago didn't like it, and maybe he still hates starbucks. But that's ok. I know plenty of people who hate starbucks. Some of them are friends of mine. It doesn't bother me, because I love the place, the company, and the coffee, and it's where I want to be right now. And most of my customers tell us on a daily basis how happy they are that we're there. I love to hear that. In the meantime, I have more respect for myself than I've had in years, personally and professionally, and I'm learning how to live as myself, not as who I think people think I am.

Plus, even the crazy iced venti extra caramel caramel macchiato lady smiles now when she comes in. Though, she'll still pitch an ugly fit if she gets less than half a bottle of caramel in her drink.

I love my job, but I also love days off

2006-09-27T12:08:00.000-05:00

I haven't been a very good blogger this week, have I? Between work and actually having something that resembles a social life lately, I haven't been home much to blog. But I'm off all day today, and I don't really have any plans. So here I am!

Well, as I mentioned in the previous post, I watched football with a bunch of people at this bar on Sunday. I had a blast, and it rivals the football Sundays I use to spend with an awesome group of women back in St. Louis. Donna and Amy, who were friends of friends, were a couple who lived waaaaay out in the suburbs and had a get-together every single sunday for anyone who wanted to come watch the Rams play. When my marriage ended and I came out, they welcomed me, no questions asked, to their place every sunday, so I could make new friends and have a place to watch football every week. It became a weekly tradition every football season for a few years, with the same core group of women there. Occasionally one of us single people would bring whoever we were dating at the time, but usually it was just the same faithful group, and I could always count on a relaxed, fun day, no matter what else was happening in life. I loved them and I loved that tradition. Unfortunately, Donna and Amy sold their house and moved to Donna's hometown in Maine, so the weekly gatherings are no more. It was sad for us football pals, even though this was a fabulous move for the two of them. Last I heard, they've built a happy life for themselves up in New England, though they promise to never ever become Patriots fans. They're still Rams all the way. Anyway, I miss them, and I'm not sure they know how important they were to that period in my life.

Last year, after Donna and Amy were gone, I went to Novak's in St. Louis with Elizabeth every week to watch the Rams play. We always had such fun together, yelling at the refs and players, making fun of stupid plays and stupid names of some of the players (ie, Pacman Jones and Plaxico Burress), and of course eating nachos like insane women. I miss this as much as I miss Donna and Amy.

I really really love football season. But as much as I love the games themselves, certainly part of why it's an important time for me is the friendship. As an adult, football Sundays have always been a day of the week when I spend with people who make a difference in my life. Might sound silly, but that's ok with me. It's a comfort thing.

So you can see why I've been skeptical these days about finding a truly fun place to watch my games with cool people. I went to New Moon on Sunday, not sure it could live up to past traditions, but I was wonderfully surprised. Only a few people were there when I arrived and the 1 o'clock games started, but fortunately they were people I know, so I pulled up a bar stool and settled in. And then did the most important thing: I made friends with the bartender. I did this to guarantee I could get any tv on any game I wanted at any given moment. Oh, and also because he is an incredibly cool, friendly person. (I'm not just saying that.)

My friend Becca was there, as were so many of her friends I've been introduced to recently. Incredibly sweet, fun people. Within an hour or so, the place got more crowded. By the end of the first round of games, the place was packed. Novak's back in St. Louis never had more than 5 or 6 people around for the games on Sunday. Usually, it was just me and Elizabeth, the bartender, a cook, and then a couple scary, toothless, mullet-headed bull-dykes in the back playing pool. So being in a room FULL of interesting (in a good way) people all there for the games was impressive to me.

Also, I met someone else who I've actually been out with a couple times since Sunday. Yep, I think I can actually use the word 'date' here in reference to our evening on Monday. I haven't used the word 'date' with regard to a night out in months, so I was surprised to even remember what the word means when it came up in conversation. Of course, I don't want to overuse the word, for fear of jinxing it. So I'm going to shut up about it now. :)

In non-football news, I'm generally in a better state of mind than I've been in since I moved down here. Work continues to get better, which is something considering it's been great from the start. I'm almost finished training for my promotion to supervisor, and our store's business is up. Also, last week we got a snapshot, which is what Starbucks calls their secret shopper deal. It scores us on everything, from cleanliness of the store, to speed and accuracy of service, and how pleasant the experience is all-around--and of course we don't know it's happening until they send us the report later. The company takes these seriously, so getting a high score is a big deal. I happened to be working the day of our most recent snapshot, and we scored a 94% and a 5 out of 5. These are fabulous scores, especially the 5. The only reason we didn't get a 100% is because apparently the latte we made for this person was only 134 degrees, when it should have been 135. Yes, they actually run outside and take the drink's temp. I could kick myself for that one, as it's such a stupid mistake. But this is still the highest score we have received yet, and it was the highest score of any store in our district for this round of snapshots. So I can live with this.

Ok well, my mom just returned last night from a trip with my grandmother to Quebec. She said is was gorgeous. I'm dying to go look through all the books and pictures she brought home, so that's what I'm going to go do now.

a good football day

2006-09-24T22:23:00.000-05:00

All my teams won! The bar I went to showed all the games, so I got to watch everything I wanted. The Rams beat the Cardinals. Bengals beat the Steelers (in Kathy's words, "FUCK Shittsburgh"). Packers beat the Lions. And Dolphins beat the Titans. Ok, no, I'm not necessarily a big Dolphins fan, but I have nothing against them, so why not cheer them on? The Rams and the Bengals are the big victories, though.

Just to top it all off, as I type this, the Patriots are about to lose to Denver. Yay!

And in all sorts of other ways, I had an absolutely fabulous Sunday. I'll write more about it tomorrow, though, since I have to get up for work in a few hours and need to force myself to sleep a little.

In the meantime, here's some "art" Bridgette and I created with straws while watching the games today at the bar:

Special, isn't it?

caramel, jager, and football

2006-09-24T09:25:00.000-05:00

So remember the lady I blogged about who orders the iced venti caramel macchiato with half a bottle of caramel in it? She's a regular now, and we've all just surrendered to her and we make her drink exactly as she likes it, with no arguments. We smile and make polite conversation with her while we dump the caramel into the bottom of her cup, and all is well. In return, she doesn't act like she wants to kill us.

However, the other day she came in for round one of her sugar fest (she gets two of these drinks each day: one in mid-morning, the other early evening), but this time when my manager handed her the drink, the woman actually complained that there was too much caramel. Shelly had to dump it out and make a new one. Apparently, there is a distinction for this woman's taste palate between half a bottle of caramel and a touch over half a bottle.

Weird.

After Caramel Lady left, Shelly said, "Well that was unexpected."

On a totally different note, I went to a bar with some friends on Thursday night and only had a couple drinks. I wanted to relax and have fun, but not get in any way drunk, and after drinking two cosmos, I had achieved that perfect state of very happy but totally lucid. Until someone bought me a jager bomb. I didn't realize she was going to do this until she had already purchased it and brought it over to me. Well, I can't seem to turn down a drink someone has bought for me, and I stupidly thought one jager bomb wouldn't possibly cause problems.

Wrong. Terribly wrong. The next day was not pretty.

So please, please, please do not ever buy me a jager bomb, do not allow me to purchase one myself, and if you see anyone else buying one for me, please remove it from my hands. Some of you already know this same rule applies to tequila. Well, now we're adding jager bombs to this list.

Note: this does not include straight jager shots, just the bombs, as it's apparently the addition of red bull that causes unpleasantness.

Everyone promise they'll stick to this? Ok, thanks.

Well, it's football day. More importantly, it's Bengals vs. Steelers day (BIG rivalry, for those of you who live under a rock). And later on, it's Rams vs. Cardinals, which means that--depending on who Arizona puts on the field--it might be a Bulger vs. Warner game. To watch these games, I'm going to the same place that was the site of the jager bomb incident. But I'm sticking with beer today. I suspect most people will be there to watch the Dolphins and Titans, but I'm counting on the other tvs being on other games.

oddballs and fan mail

2006-09-20T20:55:00.000-05:00

The other day, I sent an email to Hillary Carlip, author of Queen of the Oddballs: And Other True Stories from a Life Unaccording to Plan, which is a book I recently read and enjoyed. It's a memoir and is totally offbeat, but smart, funny, touching, and a nice example for those of us out here who admire creative non-fiction and are trying to get a feel for it as writers. I went to her book's website, her personal-essay site, and her myspace page, which are loaded with great information, and for some reason I was overwhelmed with adolescent-like, giddy, admiration. It all got the best of me and before I knew it--for the first time in my life--I had written and sent fan mail. Here is what I wrote:

Hi Hillary,
Before I say anything else, is this really Hillary, or just some die-hard fan posing as Hillary? Hmm... I'm going to have to trust whatever answer you give me, I suppose.

No, you don't know me...yet! I just read Queen of the Oddballs and naturally loved it. And I SO love that you have a myspace page. It just makes me giggle a little, because sometimes I wonder if it's weird that I'm 31 and am mildly addicted to myspace.

I have to be honest; I'd never heard of you or your book until my best friend, Kathy, sent it to me as an unexpected gift, since she knows I love to read and write creative nonfiction. One day last week, the mail man dropped off a dusty, beat-up old box with my name and address scrawled across it. The same chicken scratch had been used for the return address, which was someplace in Indiana. I grew up in Cincinnati, recently spent 6 years in St. Louis, and currently live in South Florida--but I don't know anybody who lives in Indiana so I couldn't figure out who had sent me anything. When I opened the box, there was one sad, lopsided half-sheet of bubble wrap, on which all the bubbles had been popped, and your book. Nothing else, no note, no explanation. Just a book I'd never heard of called Queen of the Oddballs, from an address I didn't know, packaged in a sketchy-looking box. It was all a little strange. However, I picked up your book and flipped through the pages out of curiosity. Just then, a sheet of paper came floating out from the middle and landed on the kitchen floor. It was an Amazon.com receipt and in tiny print at the bottom was Kathy's name, listed as the customer.

So, long story even longer, Kathy had sent the book to me as a treat, knowing I'd love it (she's a librarian and has read everything ever published and has a knack for recommending the right books to the right people) and also knowing that few things thrill me more than receiving real mail from people who aren't requesting payment from me. When I called her that afternoon to ask her about this, I said, "So are you telling me I'm an oddball?!" She just giggled and said she loved it and was sure I'd love it too.

I am so so so glad she sent your book to me! I love it for many reasons, especially your ability to see--and tell--the stories life creates. It's a trait I admire and strive for. Also, I love that--for once--it's a memoir written by a lesbian, but it's not a "coming-out story." Don't get me wrong; coming-out stories are a cozy little sub-genre of creative nonfiction, and I enjoy reading a truly original, well-written, fresh essay/memoir/book written in that vein. I guess in a way, it's a right of passage for any gay writer. It's important, and I respect it. However, I also am always on the search for memoirs written by lesbians that are about life after coming-out, about more than just realizing one's sexuality. Don't know if I'm making any sense here, hopefully you get the point.

Anyway, thanks for so much inspiration. I look forward to reading more from you and also spending lots of time reading essays on Fresh Yarn.

Take care,
Heather
P.S. Can I put you on my friends list?

heeheehee...yeah, I know, I sound like a 15-year-old there. But I just had to tell her how much I enjoy her writing! And if she's on myspace, and I'm on myspace...well of course I'm going to want to add her to my friends list!

SO. The big news is that today I received an email response from Hillary! This is what she wrote:

HEATHER!
Yes, yes, it's really me! How much do I love Kathy for passing on my book to you??? And, OK, that beat-up, hand-addressed box is TOTALLY, well... ODDBALL!

So glad you were inspired by the book and, yes, I totally get what you mean about the coming out/not aspect. Thanks for noticing! =)

OF COURSE we'll be friends (not fans!) as soon as I get to approving all the requests. I have a ton of them and I'm still on the road on tour, with no time at all. Back next week and diving right back into MySpace!

In the meantime, thanks a MILLION for the shout-out, and for digging my book so much. Hope you'll spread the word!!! And thank Kathy, too!
XO HC

How sweet is that?!

Ok, so maybe she writes similar stuff to all of her fans, but I don't care. She totally humored me by writing any response at all, and that is very cool in my world.

You know, I bitch and moan endlessly about stuff in life that gets me down, but honestly, all it takes is something as simple as a good book and a friendly email response from the writer, and I'm delighted to no end.

And by the way, I do recommend this book to anyone who enjoys memoirs that aren't beat-you-over-the-head heavy and somber. She has a great sense of humor and a fun perspective on life, and she really does see that there are great stories to be told all over the place. Everywhere you look, every moment of life, there are stories to be found and told. I'm learning more and more that writing is just as much--perhaps more so--about observing life and being able to extract the story from each moment as it is about sitting in front of a computer putting words on the screen. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone who gets more enjoyment out of her own existence. Ultimately, she totally unquestioningly accepts, no, celebrates herself in every way and loves every unique part of her own personality, and that is what I enjoyed most about this book. I even shed a few tears toward the end.

As always, Kathy got it right. She rules, but she knows that already. Speaking of which: Happy Birthday, Kathy!!!

he's so much smarter than W.

2006-09-19T10:28:00.000-05:00

Former President Clinton was on the Daily Show last night. Watching him made me remember how much I miss him and wish he was still president.

Here's the first part:

And definitely watch this final (brief) segment:

amazing how one part of my life can be so great, while other parts are so...not great

2006-09-18T07:18:00.000-05:00

Wow. I automatically started this update, but as it turns out, I don't have much to say. Well, I always have stuff to say, but nothing I want to write about here. And yet, here I am, writing a blog update anyway. Hmm. Wonder what it's going to be about.

Let's see. I worked all weekend, did my usual scribbling and reading when I wasn't at work, and I think that's about it. I start training as a shift supervisor today, so I don't have any days off for another week (last wednesday was my last day off), but my hours are mostly off the floor--working at a desk, not behind the counter--and only for a few hours a day. So nothing too strenuous. But I do look forward to my next day off, as I want to go check out the art museum here in West Palm, and because I also need to get cracking on the next book for the reading group.

Something interesting has happened. A couple blog updates ago, I talked about how much I love having such a low-pressure job which allows me to pursue my own real passions in life, about how wonderful it felt to--for the sake of my sanity--chuck my old "professional" job, the one I supposedly went to school for and all that, the one I was supposed to like but actually hated. Since then, I have received several emails from friends and aqcuaintances commenting (in a positive way) about that particular post, asking me all sorts of questions about my decision and subsequent satisfaction with it, wondering if they should make similar decisions. This is fascinating to me, as I strongly believe you should NOT live a life that requires you to sacrifice the things you care about, no matter how "secure" your job is. But then, I also always preface this with the disclaimer that I am in no position to hand out advice, as my life is sort of a wreck these days aside from the fact that I'm happy with my work and happy with the time I can devote to things I love (and, as a practical note, I am single with no kids to support, so I have more freedom to make such choices--not always the case once you have kids). In general, I usually refuse to give advice on such matters, but I feel pretty strongly about this subject. Sometimes I think we have a culture of drones, and maybe this wouldn't be the case if more people stopped choosing the jobs that look good but give them zero personal satisfaction and leave no room for passion in life.

But then, here I am, after four months of this new life, still living in my parents' condo, still living in a part of the country I hate, still trying to pretend I like being single, even though I'm not sure I do anymore, still feeling a little lonely. Still fairly certain I must be some sort of mutant, as I can't seem to have decent relationships or in any way relate to most people I come into contact with, and vice-versa. Still feeling more emotionally fragile than I am used to. And I hate all that. But I guess on some levels I knew this consequence of my decision to leave my old life would linger for a while. And, really, is four months that long? I guess not. I guess it takes longer than that to recover from years of professional misery and personal dissatisfaction. As long as I continue to love my job and the freedoms it allows me, I can handle all the rest of this, because I know they are only temporary. But the positive aspects of that decision--if I take full advantage of them--can last forever.

Now if I can only gather the courage to put my "real" writing out into the world, to try and...publish. Yikes.

a weird truck and an airplane

2006-09-14T19:09:00.000-05:00

This vehicle was in the lane next to me on I-95 yesterday. I have no idea what exactly it is, but it amused me so I took a couple pictures.

And on a different topic, I read that some airport security guard tried to snag JK Rowling's manuscript for Harry Potter, book 7. Allegedly, the airline wasn't going to allow any carry-on luggage, and they tried to extend that to include the pile of paper she was carrying. But thankfully, Ms. Rowling was too stubborn and clever to hand over her manuscript to guards and threatened to not fly at all if they wouldn't let her hold onto it. The cool thing is that she says some of it was handwritten and her only copy, which excites the hell out of me as it shows she's in the middle of her writing process. Right now, as I type this, she is likely debating with herself certain plot choices and character development. How cool is that???

chaos and happiness at work

2006-09-12T21:44:00.000-05:00

[unrelated and terribly nerdy note: I love the word chaos. Not so much the meaning, but the word itself, the actual sound. Doesn't it have a lovely, clean pronunciation? All versions of it are nice. Chaotic feels just as lovely.]

Tonight was the first time at this job that I really had a shitty time. Something weird must have been in the air, because all of our customers were totally freaking nuts tonight! We were busy as hell, which is a good thing. But they were all insane and all had totally bizarre drink requests, which put us all off our rhythm and made everything feel out of order.

My current least favorite customer came in today not once, but twice. She is this incredibly unpleasant woman who always orders an iced venti caramel macchiato with extra caramel. And I don't mean just a few extra squirts. She wants us to open the bottle and pour half of it into her cup. If you don't do that or if you try to charge her for all that extra caramel, she gets pissy and loud. So we just always give it to her. She came in today around 2 and got her usual and then left. But later, around 6, I was on a break and running out to my car to get something and she had just pulled up to the curb, where she got out of her car and started yelling at me--right there on the street--about how there wasn't enough caramel in her drink earlier and blah blah blah. So of course because we're pushovers, we made her another one. I honestly poured half the damn bottle of freaking caramel into her cup, but I was squeezing so hard that the lid popped right off and landed in her drink and the syrup went everywhere, which of course meant re-making the damn drink. Again. With five other customers behind her waiting for their drinks. The ridiculous thing about this woman is how adamantly she opposes anything slightly healthy. She gets this drink every single day (sometimes more than once; I've seen her at other stores getting this same drink, after she'd already been to my store for one). And it's not like she gets skim milk in it. This thing must have a million calories and god knows how much fat. Plus, she usually gets one for whichever of her young kids is with her when she comes in--and keep in mind that in an iced venti, there are three shots of espresso. Her kids must be unbearable after one of these things. Once, her son (who is maybe 8) was with her and wanted chocolate milk from our refrigerated case, and this woman made a disgusted face and said, "No, that's organic milk. That's gross! Get a caramel macchiato instead." I said, "You know, organic milk actually tastes just like regular milk only better. There's nothing gross about it" (I said this in a surprisingly polite, pro-social way). But she looked horrified and insisted her child instead get that enourmous caramel macchiato. I don't know if she imagined there'd be twigs or something floating around in organic milk, but she has some aversion to it. Or anything other than pure sugar and caffeine.

I dealt with another pet peeve tonight. Some lady came in and wanted to pay for a chai latte with a 100-dollar bill. Company policy says not to accept them, but if I know I have some 20s, I sometimes can work it out. However, today I had nothing larger than a five in my drawer, so I asked her nicely if she had anything smaller. And, as usual in this situation, she sighed heavily and looked completely shocked and annoyed. Then she said, "I get this all the time from businesses. Everywhere I go, they always tell me this. I can never pay with a hundred!" So, wouldn't the normal person get it through her or his skull to stop trying to be a pretentious asshole and start carrying reasonable bills, instead of the 100s?! She managed to produce a five dollar bill.

And then one of our employees didn't show up for her shift. When we called, she said she had forgotten but would be in soon. About five minutes later, she called back and said she didn't feel well and wouldn't be in at all. Grrr.

I don't know. Now that I'm writing all this down, none of it seems remarkably bad or even that annoying. I love my co-workers, which makes such an enormous difference and keeps everything tolerable and in perspective. But something about being in the middle of a shift, trying to make seven drinks at once, prep the store for closing, and deal with these other stupid annoyances made for an unpleasant evening at work.

HOWEVER. What is truly remarkable is that I still enjoyed myself. Even on an uncharacteristically shitty night there, I still love my job. Not once have I ever thought in the middle of a shift, "Christ, I hate this." Not once have I wanted to call in sick even when I wasn't sick. I've never wanted to run away from the place in the middle of a work day. I've never wished I'd get fired so I'd have an excuse to not come back the next day. That's the way I felt about my old job in publishing. Every damn day. Every morning was a struggle. I had to convince myself to go to work, and I had to talk myself into staying for the entire day. My best day there was hell compared to my worst day at this job. And what's even better is that next week I officially start my training to be promoted to shift supervisor. Other than its current geographic location, which I hate, this job is turning into everything I hoped and more. I'm happy when I'm at work. I'm good at it. Most of the customers are sweethearts. My co-workers are awesome. And when I come home from work, I can write or read or do whatever, because I'm not drained from a day of forcing myself to do shit I hate. I really am writing like crazy lately. I don't mean this blog; I mean real writing that I'm trying to turn into something interesting, something I might want to submit for possible publication soon. Strangely, I never had that drive or mental energy when I worked in publishing. I think it took getting out of my comfort zone in the sense that now I interact with dozens, sometimes hundreds of people each day--something that goes against my nature--which somehow triggers ideas and motivation to write. And I'm reading like a maniac these days, too, which is supremely important as a writer.

That said, I'm delighted to be off tomorrow. It's my last day off until a week from this Friday. I better make it a good one! I might venture over to the beach, since I haven't been there during the day since late May.

We shall see...

football, week 1

2006-09-11T11:43:00.000-05:00

The Rams and the Bengals both won yesterday. YAAAYYY!!!

I'm going to have to find a place here that shows the full NFL lineup on tv every Sunday, because I need to watch my teams play. It's no fun to try to follow the games online. I looooove my Rams, and they will always be my #1 team, but the Bengals are my #2, and I predict they'll be in the Superbowl this year.

good books make me happy

2006-09-10T11:32:00.000-05:00

I'm sure I've said it here before: I love Jeanette Winterson. Every time I read one of her books, I think, "Damn, I wish I had written that." The woman is a genius who has heartbreaking control over language and knowledge. I usually claim Art and Lies as my favorite of her novels, but I love them all and some days my favorite is Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, some days it's Written on the Body (though I understand that some of her other devoted fans claim that to be their least favorite). Yesterday I finished reading one of her more recent novels, Lighthousekeeping, which was beautiful and will also be--on some days--my favorite.

The setting is mostly a lighthouse in western Scotland (and occasionally Bristol, England). It's a story about stories, about storytelling and life...and how they intertwine or are at times the same thing. I love this novel for the same reason I love all her work: because I love her words, her characters, her settings, her stories. But also because sometimes I'm certain she has been rummaging around inside my head and knows how to write just what I need to read at any given moment. Her themes and topics in Lighthousekeeping feel eerily relevant to me right now. The topic of storytelling as part of a cultural inheritance is always interesting to me, and I love how in this book she ties that to the struggles in understanding, taking control of, and finding happiness in one's own life. In this, she deals with new beginnings, the hardships and neccessity of occasionally starting over in life. And in telling the stories of your life.

So here are a few of my favorite quotes from the book (I won't include any that are too rooted in context to make any sense out of context; these here are just to exemplify some of the concepts dealt with in the book):

"Tell me a story, Pew.
What kind of story, child?
A story with a happy ending.
There's no such thing in all the world.
As a happy ending?
As an ending."

"We are lucky, even the worst of us, because daylight comes."

"If you can tell yourself like a story, it doesn't seem so bad."

"Tell me a story, Pew.
What story, child?
One that begins again.
That's the story of life.
But is it the story of my life?
Only if you tell it."

"The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments and the rest is dark."

"It's better if I think of my life like that--part miracle, part madness. It's better if I accept that I can't control any of the things that matter. My life is a trail of shipwrecks and set-sails. There are no arrivals, no destinations; there are only sandbanks and shipwreck; then another boat, another tide."

"Part broken part whole, you begin again."

"I'll call you, and we'll light a fire, and drink some wine, and recognise each other in the place that is ours. Don't wait. Don't tell the story later."

"The rest of my life. I have never rested, always run, run so fast that the sun can't make a shadow. Well, here I am--mid-way, lost in a dark wood--this selva oscura, without a torch, a guide, or even a bird."

"Darwin said something to me once for which I was grateful. I had been trying to forget, trying to stop my mind reaching for a place where it can never home. He knew my agitation, though he did not know its cause, and he took me up to Am Parbh--the Turning Point, and with his hand on my shoulder, he said, 'Nothing can be forgotten. Nothing can be lost. The universe itself is one vast memory system. Look back and you will find the beginnings of the world.'"

I'd love to suggest this book for the book group when it's my turn to choose again (which won't be for another few months). For next month, however, we are going to read The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards. I know nothing about it, but I'm going to pick it up tomorrow and get started. The reviews are mixed, but I'll keep an open mind.

sleepy book talk

2006-09-06T21:40:00.000-05:00

Tonight was the second meeting of my newly formed book group at Starbucks. We were supposed to meet last week, but since nobody knew yet what Ernesto was going to turn into then, we postponed it. Tonight we discussed A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole, a book I recently finished for the first time and LOVED. I need to read it again soon, because it's still swirling around in my head, and I'm still trying to process parts of it and decide what to make of those parts.

It takes place in New Orleans in the early 60s and has one of the most bizarre main characters I can recall. Best of all, the novel is quintessentially southern in so many ways--lots of conventions of southern writing throughout, which as some of you know, delights me to no end, as I have a severe weakness for southern literature. I could never quite put my finger on why I love southern lit so much, I just always have loved it. I know; that's a cop-out explanation, but it's all I can offer at 10:45 on a Wednesday night, after having to wake up at 4 am to get to work by 5 so we could open at 6. I guess there's something about the regional idiosyncrasies, which also manage to deal with issues that reach well beyond a particular region of this country. Plus, I just love the dark, comedic despair in southern writing.

Anyway, the book is hilarious and yet bigger than just funny. But I was afraid the rest of the group wouldn't like it, as it's not your typical beach read. Fortunately, all but one person loved it, and we had a great discussion! And, without getting into too much detail, the one who doesn't like it is sort of an idiot and I can't stand to discuss much of anything with her. She's one of these people who HAS to show that she knows everything about whatever is the topic of conversation, and she always has a personal experience dealing with that topic. And, the worst part about dealing with her, she's a one-upper. No matter what I say, she has to one-up me...have something better to say. It drives me crazy and makes for a fragmented conversation. Usually, after she finishes talking, there is a collective, "Anyway..." from the group. That is, when we don't have to interrupt her in order to steer the conversation back to the book. I think she thinks the group is just a vehicle for getting together to talk about other stuff. But, no, we are all actually getting together to discuss books, and I think this confuses her.

However, as I said, the book is great, and I recommend it to anyone who hasn't already read it. I especially love any scenes in which Ignatius goes to the movies. He's always horrified by what he sees, and yet he can't stay away from them. It kills me whenever he gets offended and yells at the screen. Oh, and when he tries to get the factory workers to revolt...I was in tears laughing.

Good stuff.

So remember that thing above about getting up at 4 am for work? I have to do that again Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. I don't usually work the opening shift...for good reason. It's not pretty. Only once in a while does this happen. I actually enjoy the customers and everything about the store more during the opening shift than the rest of the day, but it's just the whole ordeal of getting up so early and--what's worse--trying to fall asleep at a reasonable time the night before. Thankfully, I don't have to do this tomorrow. But I'm exhausted anyway from getting up so early today.

So...I'm going to bed now.

a stingray?

2006-09-04T08:24:00.000-05:00

Wow, I'm so surprised and sad about Steve Irwin! I'm getting ready for work and stopped to check the headlines and found this sad sad news.

His poor wife and kids.

I guess we shouldn't be too surprised. I mean, the guy played with all kinds of dangerous animals.

Sigh. Well, I have to go make coffee for people now.

Italian graffiti

2006-09-03T23:33:00.000-05:00

Evidently, I'm going to spend the next fifteen years of my life posting pictures from my trip to Italy back in July. It's because posting pics on blogger can be kind of a pain in the ass at times, and I end up putting it off, no matter how much I want to get certain pics up on my blog.

Anyway, here are some that you don't see in many collections of vacation pics, but they amuse me.

There was graffiti ALL OVER the place in Italy. At first, I didn't pay much attention. But by the end of the first day there, I was fascinated. I've never seen so much graffiti. So I started taking pictures of it, and here are a bunch of examples.

Yes, this is Arnold. On the side of an old building in the middle of Florence, near the cathedral. Arnold keeps watch over the Piazza del Duomo.

Not a murder scene. Rather, graffiti on the banks of the river in Florence.

Amen to that.

My sister standing next to Picasso's long-lost "Homer Simpson."

Yes, these people were "ear."

There's a lot going on here, and most of it I'm not sure I get. But I do see a large W near the rabbit's jaw. Something about wishing a giant mutant bunny would come devour Bush...?

Kids, stay away from the drougs.

I like this one and the one above it because I busted the kid who painted them. I was walking toward town from the train station in a little city called Borgo San Lorenzo. When I walked past this corridor, I teenager stopped dead, with a can of paint in his hand and looked at me like I was the devil. I didn't react at all and just kept walking. Later that day, when I was walking back to the train station, I made a point of stopping here to see what he wrote. Poor little guy is in love. Good luck with that, kid.

I went to this website and, sure enough, it exists and looks like something political and radical. But it's in Italian, so I don't know what it says.

On the wall of the Borgo San Lorenzo station. The eyes crack me up.

frustration

2006-09-01T07:32:00.000-05:00

Didn't go to the game last night. For a number of reasons I won't go into now. The Rams lost, but who cares? It's only pre-season.

On a different topic...

I really HATE living down here.

not quite

2006-08-31T09:13:00.000-05:00

Ernesto was nothing to be worried about. By the time it reached most of Florida, not only was it not a hurricane, but it had actually dropped down from a tropical storm to a tropical depression, a term that makes me laugh. In my neighborhood, the electricity goes out ridiculously frequently, if there is any wind or rain. So, even without a full-blown hurricane, we were prepared to lose power for a few days. But it never happened. Thankfully.

Starbucks had planned to be closed yesterday but by mid-morning we opened, and I was called in to work last night. We were super busy, since most people weren't at work or school.

And, of course, this means I can go to the Rams/Dolphins game tonight! Yay! I know it's only pre-season, but it's going to be fun anyway. This will be my first football game in an open stadium, as opposed to the dome in St. Louis. You know what would make that even better? If it was snowing during the game, and we had to wear scarves and hats and mittens and all that...and still drink cold beer. (Ok, maybe hot chocolate.) On the other hand, it'll be nice to not get frostbite.

Well, I do have to work for a few hours today, so I better get going for now. I'm sleepy, though, and the only thing motivating me to get into work is fixing myself a perfect cappucino. For free. This is my perfect starbucks drink: double tall, non-fat, one raw sugar, dry cappucino. Dry is the important thing here. That and the double-shot part.

waiting

2006-08-29T16:59:00.000-05:00

Nothing yet. Ernesto has arrived in Florida and is still a tropical storm, though his plans are still a mystery to everyone and could yet turn into a hurricane (but probably not). He's still southwest of West Palm and may only brush past us, which is good. However, the sky is getting a little darker and the winds are picking up. Nobody really seems to think it's going to turn into anything major, but everyone is taking all precautions just in case. Most businesses are closed. Nobody has to work tomorrow. There isn't much regular television or radio, just reports from local and state administrators and meteorologists. Palm Beach County schools are closed today and tomorrow. Kids are all excited about it, while adults are frantically putting up shutters and planning to hole up for a day or two. It's like a snow day for those of us from the north. But a tropical storm instead of a blizzard. I'd rather have the blizzard, but this is all pretty interesting to me, the relative new-comer to all this.

My book group was supposed to meet to discuss Confederacy of Dunces tomorrow night, but we've postponed that until next Wednesday. This is good since I still have a couple hundred pages left.

I'm supposed to go to a Rams/Dolphins pre-season game down in Miami on Thursday. I hope Ernesto doesn't mess up those plans. Well, and of course I also hope that nobody gets hurt or loses their home or anything like that because of the storm.

I knew it would happen eventually

2006-08-28T15:30:00.000-05:00

Right now, this is what everyone in the city is thinking about and preparing for. While all the meteorologists and news channels are speculating, the truth is nobody knows for sure what Ernesto will do next. Most are predicting that he'll upgrade to a hurricane once he hits the warm waters north of Cuba and then head right for the West Palm, Lauderdale, Miami areas. Right where I am!! So the next few days should be interesting.

I stopped for gas on my way home from work this afternoon, and this is what the gas station looked like:

Most gas stations I have seen today look like this. I only stopped for gas because I was getting low and needed some, but everyone else there appeared to be preparing for the apocalypse. One guy had the entire back of his pickup truck full of dozens of gas containers, and he filled each one. I suspect that the weasel plans to sell these for lots of money if a hurricane knocks out the power to such a degree that businesses--gas stations--close for a number of days, or if the gas stations run out of gas.

If Ernesto does become a hurricane, and if he does hit my area, I'll try to get some pictures and post them up here.

Also if this happens, I may be without power and, thus, the ability to update my blog for a number of days.

In the meantime, I have a couple new books to sink my teeth into--and a flashlight to read by.

this one doesn't shed as much

2006-08-28T00:06:00.000-05:00

Check it out: a virtual Murphy! How cute is this?! You can give him a cookie by clicking on the box of treats (but we call them cookies--that's the word Murphy recognizes). He'll even jump for his cookie. Ok, no, the real Murphy has never jumped for anything, nor do I think he ever will. But he can do it vicariously through his virtual twin!

adopt your own virtual pet!

lots of random movies

2006-08-27T12:51:00.000-05:00

Absolutely nothing interesting has happened in the past couple days. I haven't had to work since Thursday, and I didn't take a road trip up to St. Augustine but I did sit around and read a lot and watch a bunch of movies on TV. It's actually been quite lovely, as it was the first time I think since I moved down here that I have really let myself do nothing for a couple days. Lately, I feel guilty if I don't accomplish something and get out into the world each day, even if it's only trivial. But not this weekend. Here are some movies I watched on cable this weekend (mostly because I just happened to come across them while flipping through the channels): Friday Night Lights (surprisingly terrific movie; I was impressed and moved), Dave (love it!), Blast from the Past, Soapdish (funnier than you might expect, thanks to Robert Downey Jr. and Kevin Kline), Joe Versus the Volcano (one of my favorites), So I Married an Axe Murderer (funny as hell and one my sister and I quote to each other in conversation constantly), Two Weeks Notice (I don't know why, but I love Hugh Grant), Raising Helen (I didn't want to get any pleasure from this, but it was slightly more entertaining than I thought it would be, despite the intolerable Kate Hudson ), Moulin Rouge (I love Baz Luhrmann, but after several tries, all I can say about this movie is, "eh." Visually, it's beautiful, but that's all it does for me. I still like his Romeo + Juliet way better). I'm sure I watched one or maybe two others that I'm forgetting. Regardless, the point is that I've watched a lot of movies the past couple days, ranging from great to barely tolerable. But I watched them anyway. In my pjs. On the couch. Next to my dog. Totally relaxed.

Also, my mom and I are thinking about going to a movie later this afternoon. Don't know yet what we're going to see, though.

In a different vein, I've added a couple new links to my sidebar here. One is for FOUND Magazine. If you haven't heard of it or been to that site, you must check it out. It's basically a collection of mostly notes and also pictures and such that people have found on the street, in the garbage, in returned library books, etc. Most are hilarious. Some are alarming and a little frightening. Some are sad. Others make no sense at all. But they're all fascinating, and the site (and books/magazines) are addictive.

Well, Murphy needs a walk and I need a diet coke. More later...

the freezer

2006-08-24T12:04:00.000-05:00

So I'm reading a book right now called Marley and Me, which is a memoir about a guy and his dog. It's been a fun, quick read. The narrative starts when the author, John Grogan, and his wife adopt a puppy Labrador, and the book follows their lives together--through three children and different homes and careers, though it focuses on their experiences with Marley. I'm getting close to the end of the book; about 20 minutes with it, and I'll finish. But Marley is very old and not terribly healthy at this point, and I know what's going to happen soon. The problem is that I don't think I can finish. I'm certain it's about to get really sad, and I don't think I want to deal with that since nothing is sadder than the terrible thing I know is about to happen. In junior-high I had to do that terrible thing to my beloved cat, Mr. Pet (yes, that was her name, the name I gave her when I got her for my 2nd birthday), and it was awful. So like Joey on Friends did, when he read Little Women and got too sad to keep reading after Beth got sick, I might have to put this book in the freezer and just assume Marley stays happy and healthy forever.

There are many things in the metaphorical freezer for me. It's sort of the place where I retire movies or books when I either can't finish them for the above-mentioned reasons or if I've finished it a few times before but know better than to try again, as it will make a mess of me. This book is about to go there, next to The Blair Witch Project (which, laugh all you want, scared the shit out of me even though I loved it), Terms of Endearment (yes, it's a total 80s movie, but if I watch it, I'm ruined for the day, hence it's place in the freezer), and most recently, Eight Below, which played on the plane trip from Rome to New York so I had little choice but to watch it, even though I'd been warned it would kill me. Holy crap, I cried like a baby. There are lots of other items in there, but you get the point.

I don't know. Maybe I should go ahead and plow through Marley and Me, just so I know I've finished it. And then I'll immediately relegate it to the freezer.

A note from Kathy, care of Samuel L. Jackson

2006-08-22T17:09:00.000-05:00

Kathy emailed this to me the other day. It cracks me up. (You'll need volume to appreciate it.)

Someone please give the woman in this picture a drink

2006-08-22T08:45:00.000-05:00

I recently received this in an email being passed around as a joke. Wow. It's funny, but only until you think about the fact that at one point it wasn't meant to be a joke. But since my blog has been a tad cranky lately, let's go with the funny option here. The image here is too small to read, but if you click on it, you should get an enlarged view so you can actually read it. By the way, the underlines and circles are not mine, in case that wasn't obvious. Personally, I think the first part of the third pointer here is hilarious. Yes, I know it meant something else back in the day, but it still makes me giggle a little.

George

2006-08-20T11:48:00.000-05:00

When we were preparing for the trip to Italy, we all packed lightly enough that we wouldn't have to check any luggage. We each had a couple small-ish bags that we carried on the plane with us. It was lovely and eliminated the time spent waiting around for luggage once we landed, and it also eliminated the fear of lost luggage. However, after several days in Italy, we had accumulated a bunch of things--souvenirs and such--that wouldn't fit in the bags we carried on the way over. So we were forced to purchase a bag which we would have to check for the flight home. We didn't want to spend much money on it, as we had plenty of luggage at home, and we only needed this to get us from Point A to Point B. So we found ourselves a fun little suitcase on wheels for $10 from a street merchant near the Florence train station. It looked large and sturdy enough to carry anything we couldn't fit in our original bags.

However, once we got it back to the hotel, we realized the bag was much larger than it appeared on the street and would fit much more than just the souvenirs we'd purchased. So we each put a few other things in there to make our carry-on a little more comfortable. The next morning, when it was time to catch our train to Rome, where we would spend one day and one night before heading to the Rome airport, we quickly discovered that this $10 bag bought on the street was just that: a $10 dollar bag bought on the street. In other words, it was a huge piece of crap.

Amy somehow drew the short straw and had to drag it from the hotel to the Florence train station, and we would take turns with it from there. But before we even got outside the hotel lobby, the wheels on this suitcase completely caved in and the whole thing went lopsided. She "fixed" the wheels and dragged it another few feet, but they caved again. Without the wheels, this thing was insanely heavy and awkward (among other items, my mom had purchased five, yes five, World Cup commemorative soccer balls for my brother, niece, and some neighbors). It took less than three minutes trying to transport this thing before we realized it was going to make the trip to Rome and to the airport totally miserable.

Guess what. We were right!

Fortunately, it was so miserable that it became funny. For starters, we paid extra for a direct train from Florence to Rome, which meant we had assigned seats in an assigned car (as opposed to the rail passes we had which got us on to any other train without assigned seats, but which stopped every few miles and takes much longer). And of course, our seats were in the very last car of the train, and since we got there without any time to spare, we had to get on the train in the front and walk through the 2-inch aisle all the way to our car, as the train pulled out and headed south. This wouldn't be a problem, had we not been dragging the world's heaviest, cheapest, most awkward, and most poorly contructed suitcase. By now, Amy had passed it to me, so I was the one dragging it down the aisle of the train, running over people's feet, waking sleeping babies, bumping into shoulders and elbows. Amy was behind me, to make sure the suitcase wasn't ripping, as by now the wheels were totally useless, and I was really just dragging it. Mom, on the other hand, had no idea what we were dealing with, as she had somehow freed herself of any obligations toward this thing, even though it was mostly her stuff inside it. So she was way ahead of us, a full car ahead, strolling along at a nice pleasant pace, while Amy and I were sweating like pigs in the Italian heat and dragging the worst suitcase ever behind us, stirring hatred among the Italians we ran over in the process. Amy and I both were so angry at this damn thing, we wanted to just chuck it out the window and be done with it. And Mom wasn't our favorite person at the time.

By the time we FINALLY got to our car, and I could drop the suitcase in a cubby near our seats, I was certain Mom had stolen Michelangelo's David and stuffed it inside this bag. It was that heavy. I was actually out of breath and dripping with sweat, and Amy commiserated. After we plopped down for the ride, we decided we had to give the suitcase a name, because it clearly had a most hateful personality. What was an appropriate name for something hideous, not fully functional, life-sucking, anger-inducing, and which just wouldn't go away? George. We named it after the president, as he embodies all the same characteristics of that god-forsaken suitcase.

Later on that train ride, Amy and I walked back several cars to get some coffee and in the process had to pass many of the people George had run over while we tried to get to our seats earlier. The looks of hate and disgust were alarming. Everyone remembered us and our suitcase, and although George wasn't with us at the time, they all pulled their limbs as close to their bodies as possible for fear that we'd find some other way to torture them as we passed. I wanted to personally apologize to everyone there and tell them to blame George, not us.

So for the next day and a half, as we traveled the rest of the way to Rome, from the Rome train station to our hotel, and then the next morning from the hotel back to the train station and then to the airport, we argued about George. Whose turn was it to drag him (strangely, it was never Mom's)? Why the hell was he so heavy? Whose bright idea was it to buy a suitcase from a street vendor anyway? Why was George so intent upon making our last day in Italy pure torture? We talked about George as if he was an actual person. We referred to him by name. We hated George.

George was always funniest when you weren't the one dragging him. For example, when we checked into our hotel in Rome, Amy had George. We took the TINY elevator up to our floor and tried to navigate the winding hallways to find out room. The hotel was like a maze, and our room was deeply hidden. We were single-file, as the halls were too narrow for anything else. Mom was in front, Amy and George were behind her, and I was behind them (whichever of us didn't have George at the time always had to be in back to make sure he didn't split wide open and spill everything). Somehow we got lost trying to find where the hell they put our room, as it wasn't where one would logically assume it to be (room 33 would normally be somewhere between 32 and 34, right? Wrong). We stopped, got our bearings, Amy set George down for a second, and then we saw a sign pointing to our room number, so we walked in that direction. Mom and I got into the room and realized Amy wasn't with us. I went out into the hallway. Nothing. I went to where we were standing when we first figured out where our room would be. Nothing. Somehow Amy and George had both disappeared. Had George finally sprouted arms and kidnapped Amy? It wouldn't have been that unbelievable. So I called, "Amy?" Nothing. Again, "AMY??" Finally, I heard a distant and exasperated, "Where the hell are you guys? Mom? Heather? God damnit. I hate this fucking George." Or something like that. I don't know how, but she had gotten turned around and went in a different direction and ended up on the other end of our floor in the hotel, dragging George the whole way, and she couldn't find us. In the meantime, she kept passing some poor woman who was just trying to do her job and clean the floors, but Amy lugged George back and forth over her floors about three times before she found us again. She says the woman grumbled in Italian and sighed loudly every time George slid over her newly cleaned floor. By now, I was dying. The sound of Amy's totally frustrated, at-the-end-of-her-rope voice off in the distance while she dragged George cracked me up. Maybe I was just tired and slap-happy, but it did me in and I couldn't stop lauging. Amy wasn't so amused.

The next morning, we had to get ourselves and George to the train station again so that we could get to the airport. There is a special train that goes directly from the train station to the airport, and they couldn't have put that bastard further from the main part of the station. It honestly seems like we walked a couple miles to get to it. In the meantime, George was my responsibility and although it was still early and I had just showered, the heat was insane and I was already sweaty and enraged. George was in rare form that morning, and I was openly cursing him as we walked to the train. He kept twisting and flipping over, so I had to contstanly stop and use all my strength to flip him back over. At one point, a British couple was ahead of us and I guess could hear me bitching, so they kept turning around to glare at me. I am not a violent person, but I've never been so close to hitting people. I think I even said something like, "If you're so freaking interested, why don't YOU carry the damn thing, assholes." Nothing induced anger quite like dragging George, and it was a special kind of irrational anger that made you hate everyone around you simply because they didn't have to drag George and you did.

This time, Amy was the one laughing. I let her laugh, since I had laughed at her the night before in the hotel. But Mom knew better than to laugh at any of it, as she hadn't once personally dealt with George. Anytime we bitched about this fact, she reminded us that she had paid for the trip. Frustratingly, she had us there.

Finally, we got to the airport and happily handed George over to the luggage attendants. Part of me was almost hoping he'd get lost or stolen during the trip back to the states. But no such luck. When we landed in Miami and went to the luggage claim, there he was waiting for us. He just wouldn't go away.

When we got home, we each retrieved any belongings we'd stowed in George, but I'm not sure where he is now. Unbelievably, I think my mom might have put him in the closet, though he was totally destroyed by the time we got home and was definitely ready for the dumpster, and even if he wasn't destroyed, there's no way in hell any of us would ever try to take George on another trip.

getting there

2006-08-19T14:04:00.000-05:00

Yes, I suck because my blog updates have been completely lame lately. I know. It's not laziness or lack of things to say. Rather, it's because of a genuinely shitty mood, and maybe I don't want all my readers to know just how insane and moody I am. However, I'm starting to pull out of this funk and promise to post a real blog update either later tonight or tomorrow morning. In the meantime, there is a martini waiting for me and I must go find it.

By the way...not ONE of you out there wants to answer those book questions???

more of the same

2006-08-17T20:17:00.000-05:00

Well, my mood hasn't improved much over the past few days, so I'm reluctant to write a lot here, for fear that I'll scare away all my readers. Work is good, as always, and I'm fairly certain that our "secret shopper" person (though that isn't what we actually call it at Starbucks) came in today while I was working the espresso bar. I hope so, because everything was perfect: the store was spotless, a few of our chatty regulars were hanging out, and I made a fabulous drink for this person. If this was one of our big tests (we have several each year), I am certain that we scored perfectly. It's a huge deal at Starbucks that we do well on these, and so far--possibly until today--I have not been on duty for any of them.

Honestly, that is the most exciting and positive thing I have to say right now. I'm still cranky and still feel like everything is going to suck forever and I'll end up staying in my parents' spare room until I'm 98 and am wheeled off to a retirement home.

I have a couple days off at the end of next week. Perhaps I'll take a road trip up to St. Augustine. Been meaning to check it out. Lots of history there.

Sigh...that is all for now.

grumble

2006-08-15T22:03:00.000-05:00

Christ, I am so grumpy tonight. Actually, I have been for a couple weeks now. Really bitchy. It's a charming combination of bitchy and depressed. I don't know where this mood came from, but I hope it goes away soon. The other night, I sent this email to my friend Kathy. Well, this is only a portion of it, as there were some things in the original that are not fit for public viewing. ;) But this portion looks exactly as it did in that email:

Damn it. I can't sleep. It's after 3 am, and I have to get up at 9 to get ready for work, and I have been lying in bed for at least an hour and a half now, but I can't go to sleep. I hate that. Even if my alarm wasn't set to go off at some point, I'd hate this because it's just annoying. I can't stop thinking about a million things all at once. You know, the usual shit I bitch about these days: I hate Florida. I'm homesick for Cincinnati and--unbelievably--St. Louis. I'm pissy that it's going to be fall soon, the time of year I live for, but I have to miss it this year. I think Murphy is also unhappy. I hate the president. I hate the vice-president. I don't believe there were terrorist attacks plotted from heathrow airport the other day---I think it's a conspiracy to scare us all back into submission. Even though he's a democrat, I hate Joe Lieberman and I'm glad the connecticut dems see him for the weasel he is and didn't want him anymore either. I need to exercise. I need to do laundry. I hate that my weird neuroses and apparent inability to lead a normal stable life also make it hard for me to get enough time with the people I really want and need in my life. I need to get my oil changed asap. I'm getting a pimple on my jaw.

That pretty acurately summed up my state of mind then and now. Oh, and this evening I sent a rather snarky email to my ex, essentially reminding her of how unhappy she made me when she dumped me. There was no reason for me to do that, especially since I'm really ok about all that now. We've been getting along so well lately and being very mature in our correspondence, but for some reason, tonight I was rather unpleasant to her in an email. Guess I'm just not in the mood to take that high road.

lefties of the world, unite!

2006-08-13T21:01:00.000-05:00

Apparently today, August 13, is International Left Handers Day. How have I managed to live for 31 years as a left-handed person and never know about this holiday? I've always loved being left handed because it has tradionally been associated with subversion and is something that makes me a little different from many of the people around me, and few things thrill me more than being different or subversive in any way. The only thing I hated about being left handed as a kid is the stupid lefties' scissors in grade school. For some reason they were always blunt, uncomfortable, and useless. And my entire life, I've always had ink stains on the side of my left hand, from the tip of my left pinky finger all the way to my left wrist---sometimes even further up my arm and on my sleeve---and my homework was always smudged. (For you righties out there who didn't realize this, as a lefty, when you write, your hand drags across the ink on the page before it's had a chance to dry, hence the ink-stained skin and smudged papers.)

Other than those minor annoyances, I'm glad I'm a lefty. It's likely one of the reasons I can play the violin; years ago, one of my violin teachers told me that a relatively high percentage of violinists---or fiddlers, for us folk-music lovers---are left handed. Of course, being a lefty also fits perfectly with my political and social beliefs. And if it's true that lefties are right-brained, well, then that explains a lot of why I love creativity and storytelling, but also why my life is sometimes a trainwreck and why I don't deal well with deadlines or too much structure.

Here are some of my famous fellow lefties. Yay for left-handed people!

P.S. I've broken two fingers on my left hand: my pinky when I was in kindergarten and horsing around in my bedroom when I was supposed to be asleep, and my middle finger a few years ago when I was trying to open a package of hot dogs (?!?!).

books

2006-08-12T12:23:00.000-05:00

1. One book that changed your life?
Whatever was the first book my parents ever read to me. It shaped me more than they ever could have guessed.

The book that changed my life that I consciously remember is To Kill a Mockingbird. It was the book with which I first learned about literary analysis. The first book in whose margins I jotted notes. The first time I learned how deeply a book can affect me. Also, it was the first experience, aside from my parents, that began to shape my social consciousness. And it made me want to be a lawyer for many years. Until my 2nd year in college, when I realized I love literature way more than law and politics.

2. One book you have read more than once?
There are many. To Kill a Mockingbird of course. I practically have it memorized. Same goes for The Great Gatsby. It's a very close second behind Mockingbird as far as most influential in my life. It moves me just as much as Mockingbird, but in a different way. Actually, I've read everything by Fitzgerald several times. Same goes for much of Faulkner's work. There are also a couple young-adult books I still go back and read regularly. My favorite from that category is The Witch of Blackbird Pond. First read that in 7th grade and fell in love with it. I still read it about once a year, and it's still one of my favorites.

My answers here, of course, do not include the many books I read over and over again in college and grad school. I usually read a book several times when working on a paper about it.

3. One book you would want on a desert island?
The blog from which I stole this questionaire mentioned a survival guidebook, which is a brilliant answer. But aside from that, I think I'd want the Riverside Shakespeare. It's only one book, but has all his works in it and would provide years' worth of reading and thinking. Plus, I could always read The Tempest repeatedly for commiseration.

4. One book that made you laugh?
Right now I'm reading Confederacy of Dunces, which consistently cracks me up. Everytime I open it, I read something that makes me laugh out loud. Also, Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger, though it's been about 12 years since I read that. I just remember it made me laugh. Also, for a fun, feminist retort to all that annoying "gotta-get-married" chick writing, Kiss My Tiara cracked me the hell up.

(I'm not sticking to this 'one book' part of these questions, am I?)

5. One book that made you cry?
Oh hell, a lot of them make me cry. Some make me cry not because of anything emotional in the story, but simply because of something beautiful about the way it was written. And some make me cry for both reasons: story and aesthetics. For example, the last 20 or so pages of Lolita made me cry like a baby. The story is tragic and the writing is unbelievably gorgeous....it was an overwhelmingly emotional reading experience.

6. One book you wish had been written?
Can't answer that question. I'm still trying to get through all the books that HAVE been written. If there's a book that should be written and hasn't yet, perhaps I'll write it myself.

7. One book you wish had never been written?
Lord. Many of them. Pretty much anything by Nicholas Sparks. Or that guy who wrote the Mars/Venus books. And Ann Coulter.

8. One book you are currently reading?
See answer to question 4.

9. One book you have been meaning to read?
Many. Still haven't read Ulysses. My stack of 'To Read' books is neverending, not that I would want it to end.

10. Now tag five people:
I don't know what the hell this means. Does 'tag' mean to tell people to answer this survey? If anyone wants to give their own answers, I'd truly love to read them. Post them as a comment here, or leave a comment with a link to your own blog where you've posted your answers.

personality

2006-08-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

I just took an online personality test (because I am that busy right now) and thought I'd share the results. Although this wasn't officially the Myers-Briggs test, I can see that it's based on it--and is much shorter. And although I don't put too much faith into these types of things, I do find it interesting that I have taken the M-B and other similar tests a few times since college and always get the same results, which are quite accurate. This is what it told me today, which is what it always tells me: I am an introvert/intuitive/perceiving/feeling person. Here are the details it gave me:

INTROVERT: While you may not be anti-social, you do need (and deserve) your private time and space to retreat from the world. Unlike extroverts, you need to develop a concept of the world or some aspect of it before experiencing it. Too much socializing may sap your energies. Your energies are derived from exploring the inner world of ideas, impressions and pure thought.

INTUITIVE: While you do process information through your senses you add a twist to your processing by relying on intuition and serendipity. You look for undercurrents of meaning and abstractions in what you experience physically. You do not just see things just as they are, but as what they could be. While you may rely on common sense at times, you trust inspiration far more.

PERCEIVING: You like to have as much information as possible before making a decision. Putting off a final decision until the last moment does not make you uncomfortable. Indeed once a decision is made, a course plotted, you may feel a bit uneasy, because you feel bound to a certain course of action. You would much prefer to wait and see what happens. You enjoy the opportunity to improvise. Commitments are not etched in stone to you, and are changeable.

FEELING: You make decisions subjectively based upon your values and what is important to you. How people will be affected by your decisions is important to you. You are likely to make decisions based upon what you feel is acceptable and agreeable rather than what is logical. Your truths are founded in your values and those of the society you live in. It is important to remember that we are discussing how you evaluate data and make decisions, and that you rely on your feelings to do so in no way implies you are overly emotional.

Your Personality Type
Introvert/Intuitive/Feeling/Perceiving:
You are devoted and compassionate. You have a well-developed distaste for rules, orders and schedules. You are a natural born learner and can get so absorbed in your projects that you forget those around you. You are passionate about your beliefs and love ideals. You have very high standards for yourself. You are very creative, sensitive, reserved, and introspective. You respect the values of others and expect them to respect yours.In relationships you are loyal and totally committed. You prefer a few deep relationships over a horde of acquaintances. Because you are somewhat reserved, you do best in one on one and small group situations. When you feel comfortable, you can be very entertaining and capricious. You are nurturing and supportive by nature. Your greatest social challenge is to balance your need to withdraw into your inner-world with your need to keep a strong connection with those you care for.

Occupations Suited to Your Type Include: Actor, architect, artist, composer, editor, translator, journalist, librarian, musician, occupational therapist, psychotherapist, educator, researcher, scientist, and writer.

P.S. I think my favorite line in this personality evaluation is, "You have a well developed distaste for rules, orders, and schedules." ;)

deleted

2006-08-11T09:56:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I just deleted my last post because it was lots of bitching and whining, and nobody wants to read that.

Anyway, I feel a tiny bit better because it's almost football time, and my dad and I are going down to Miami to watch a Dolphins/Rams pre-season game in a couple weeks. Hope he doesn't mind being with the only person in the stadium wearing a Rams jersey.

horror movies, coffee master, and Maggie

2006-08-10T14:24:00.000-05:00

Just got home from work and I can't decide whether I want to take a nap, sit by the pool and read, sit on the beach and read, or do something totally different. In the meantime, I'll blog a bit about the past couple days.

Ok, well, for starters I watched a couple cool horror flicks the other night: High Tension and Hostel. Hostel was definitely disturbing, and not just because of the amount of blood. It showed a pure hatred for Americans oversees, as it also mocked--in a horrific way--the hedonistic sex industry certain Americans look to patronize when they visit other countries. And yeah, of course there were gratuitous blood and slashing and torture tools, along with a somewhat weak ending (as if the writer got tired and didn't want to finish). But it was interesting and sufficiently frightening. I liked High Tension better, though. Lots of fascinating social implications and sub-plots, also with some predictable horror conventions, but the main character was super interesting. Would love to have a gender- and sexuality-based discussion about this movie.

Good stuff.

On a totally different note, yesterday I hosted a coffee tasting/seminar in the cafe at work, which was open to the public and any other employees (from my store or any others). It's one of the final steps in being a certified Coffee Master at Starbucks. Ok, yes, you may chuckle and say it's cheesy, but I am excited about it. Just as passing my barista certification when I first started took way more training than one might expect, becoming a Coffee Master isn't a token thing, nor is the training merely a formality. My task yesterday was to prepare on my own some sort of seminar to present--about pretty much whatever I wanted--with the objective of educating attendees about some aspect of coffee, coffee growing, roasting, brewing, anything like that. So I decided to talk about the language of coffee, since customers so frequently want to know about certain coffees, how they taste, what's bold, what's mild, etc. I always get the feeling that when we answer them, they still aren't sure what we've just said, because there's a certain vocabulary used to describe coffee and we aren't always very good at translating it. In my seminar, I talked about the four main aspects we evaluate in coffee: aroma, acidity, body, and flavor. First, I taught everyone how to do a real coffee tasting (much like wine tasting). Then, I went into detail about each of these four aspects and how they affect the different roasts (or rather, how the different roasts affect them). For each one, we sampled a different coffee that highlights each respective aspect. Then I also explained some of the adjectives that are often used for each of these aspects. For example, exotic, floral, bright, earthy, etc. Personally, I find it all fascinating as hell, and as it turns out, so did the customers who took part in the seminar. They loved learning how to sample coffee and how to identify different elements in the flavor. It lasted a little over an hour and went incredibly well. I was so happy. (Ok, so I have to brag and say that my manager said it was one of the best Coffee Master seminars she's ever seen!) Anyway, all I have to do is pass a quick oral test on Monday to check my knowledge on some other things relating to the growers themselves, their communities, and the Starbucks procedure from harvest to delivery. Once I pass that, I am officially a certified Coffee Master and will get to wear the special coffee master black apron.

Today, however, I am in major pain. I took the dogs out for a walk before bed last night, and they were both in playful moods so I ran around with them for a while. Tails were wagging, we were all running and jumping, and acting goofy. Good times. Until, while the dogs and I were running down the sidewalk, Maggie who was in front of me on her leash, decided to suddenly take a sharp left turn. Out of nowhere, going nowhere. Of course, I was still running straight ahead. When Maggie crossed my path so suddenly, I actually ran into her, flipped over her, hit the sidewalk (at a fast pace), rolled, and skidded several feet. My shoes flew off, the leashes went all over, and I was in pain. When I finally stopped skidding down the cement, both the dogs were just standing there staring down at me, smiling, wagging, and wondering what the hell I was doing. If I had witnessed this happen to someone else, I'd have been on my ass laughing. I'm certain it was hilarious to see, but fortunately no one did see. Maggie had no idea she had almost killed me. I scraped up my hands, knees, elbows, feet, and back, but what's really painful are my muscles today. I guess I tensed up during the fall, and apparently I'm really old. Because today it feels like I lifted weights for about 12 hours yesterday.

Thanks, Maggie! Good thing you are incredibly cute.

Dante, David, the Duomo, and some Medicis

2006-08-08T13:20:00.000-05:00

The Dante house/museum is in Florence of course, and I knew that before going on this trip. So I can't understand why, when I stumbled across it while wandering the city in the second or third day there, I was surprised. And awestruck. It actually brought a couple unexpected tears to my eyes, and the woman working there surely thought I was insane.

Yes, this is the actual David (in the Galleria dell'Accademia), and no, I wasn't really allowed to take this picture. I respected this rule everywhere else we went, but since this is made of unpainted marble which isn't susceptible to damage from camera flashes, I cheated. And just for added safety, I didn't have my flash on anyway. (By the way, even though I used my real camera, there were an awful lot of people in the gallery "looking" at their cell phones. You know, the kind that coincidentally have cameras...) Anyway, I honestly wasn't foaming at the mouth to see David. It was one of the things I wanted to get to, but figured it wouldn't be tragic if I ran out of time first. My mom had been dying to see David, so it was no surprise when she was rendered speechless. But he really go to me as well. He's breathtaking and had a much deeper impact on me than I ever expected, mostly because of what the statue says about humanity. For example, I learned that during WWII, people built a huge, casket-like structure immediately surrounding David, so as to protect him from the bombs and raids, which I find fascinating. Most people weren't that well guarded during the war (that one or any other, for that matter), but I guess everyone knew that regardless of war or peace, David could outlive any human, and they were going to do everything possible to make sure that happened. I wonder what we in America would go to such lengths to protect for the pure beauty of it.

The Duomo (cathedral) is enormous and beautiful. It's also damn near impossible to get inside. Daily, the line for the entrance wraps around the building and people wait for hours. Amy and I innocently thought that if we got there before it opened one morning, we might stand a chance of getting in without having to pitch a tent outside and wait all day. But no such luck. Apparently, that's everyone else's thought as well. Ultimately, we did not wait in line and go inside, because as amazing as I'm sure it is, we weren't willing to give up an entire day of being in Florence to standing around in one place. Besides, the outside was quite remarkable itself.

The entrance to the Medici Chapel (including a statue of Anna Maria de Medici, below) is amazing, aesthetically and historically. Much of it is covered with scaffolding right now, but there is no hiding its beauty. Again, I was only allowed to take pictures on the outside, and I fully repsected that rule here, as the color on the inside is gorgeous and rare. I'd never do anything to potentially damage it. By far the most frustrating and exciting thing about visiting the Medici Chapel is that they were in the process of excavating one of the tombs while we were inside. There was a curtain drawn over one of the rooms, where a Medici (though I don't know which one) is buried, and all through the chapel, we could hear the machinery, cranking and pulling. The marble had been broken to pieces, and I could see shadows and silhouettes of all this taking place--of something (someone?) actually being lifted mechanically from beneath the marble slab. It was killing me. Absolutely killing me that I couldn't watch, and I did all I could to sneak a peek without getting kicked out--which almost happened I think when I actually had my hand on the curtain about to lift it back and one of the docents yelled something in Italian at me. Don't know what she said, but it was probably something like "Get the hell away from there, you stupid American!"

random assortment from Florence

2006-08-06T11:53:00.000-05:00

I love the doorway to this shop:

Perhaps the happiest horse I've ever seen. This guy was seriously grubbing.

Italian pulp fiction: Intrigo in Vaticano. And there's a picture of a nun holding a smoking gun. I'd love to know what happens in this book.

Cute older couple looking out their window. After I took this picture, they smiled and waved. Guess I was too early with the shot.

The Piggy Market (that's what it's actually called because of the statue of a pig at its entrance):

Inside the Piggy Market:

Roberto Benigni was scheduled to perform in Florence just a couple days after we left. He was going to recite from The Divine Comedy. I would love to have been there for that!

The Uffizi Gallery, from across the river.
It used to belong to the Medicis and is where they stored their art collection. It was also once an office building, hence the name Uffizi (which means offices). We saw original artwork from Botticelli, da Vinci, Durer, Giotto, and lots more. By the time we got into the courtyard, the batteries in my camera died, which sucked because the courtyard itself is quite a sight. Lots of spectacular statues and interesting live perfomance artists. Amy took some pictures with her camera, though, and once I get access to those, I'm going to put them up here. They're great. But of course, no pictures were allowed inside the gallery.

hiroshima day

2006-08-06T08:01:00.000-05:00

Check this out. Make sure your volume is on.

more fun ways to waste time

2006-08-05T12:42:00.000-05:00

I recently discovered YouTube, which all you more internet-savvy folks have probably known about for ages. But it's new to me and completely addictive. I've found old tv, movie, and football clips that I haven't seen in years (because they aren't really available anywhere else). Strange little homemade clips. Internet pranks. All sorts of cool stuff. But my favorite so far has been old skits from The Kids in the Hall, which is one of my all-time favorite shows. Here are a couple of my favorites from them:

This second one is perhaps my favorite piece of sketch comedy ever, simply becuase they do a hilarious job of making fun of the corporate world.

Happy National Blackmail Day!

2006-08-05T11:42:00.001-05:00

According to someone online, today is National Blackmail Day. I can't figure out what exactly this means. Are we supposed to go learn other people's deepest secrets to use for our own advantage? Or are we supposed to go ahead and cash in on the secrets we already know about other people? Holidays like this just give me a warm happy feeling, you know?

There are definitely one or two people out there I'm staying the hell away from today.

rambling without pictures

2006-08-05T11:21:00.000-05:00

Blogger is pissing me off. I'm trying to upload some more pictures, and this damn website won't let me. Something isn't working right. Grumble.

For some reason, I'm still pretty cranky. I think it's the heat. Fortunately, I don't have to work until 7 this evening, so I have all day to get in a better mood, and that will most certainly require leaving the house unless I want to spend the afternoon listening to my dad's many conspiracy theories on 9/11. I'm glad for having liberal parents who despise this administration as much as I do, but dad doesn't always get that I agree with him so he doesn't actually need to spend his time passionately convincing me that the government is corrupt. Thinking about it too much puts me in a super bad mood, whereas he thrives on it. Love him dearly, but I prefer to avoid topics of conversation that make me angry but about which I can control very little.

Since I'm in my room right now, I'm so tempted to take a little mid-day nap. We had hurricane shutters installed on all the windows last week...the accordion kind which you just go outside and pull shut when the time comes. I discovered that my room is incredibly cozy when the shutters outside my window are closed. My room has a large, glass sliding door on one side, leading out to the patio. And because of this, it's almost never completely dark in here. But with the shutters closed, it's like a cave. Might sound creepy, but it has been so cozy and I have slept ridiculously late because of it. None of the other shutters on the house are closed, as there is no need for it right now, but I've kept mine closed since it was installed. It's making me drowsy right now. Or it could be that I was awake until almost 3 am. (I was at home reading, not out doing anything too wild.)

Ok, well, first another attempt at uploading some pics, and then I'm going to skip the nap and get out of here into the sunshine.

grumpy

2006-08-03T22:19:00.000-05:00

I am so cranky today. Don't know why, but I've been on the verge of yelling at everyone all day. I found a few minutes to write my previous post and now this one, but otherwise, I've spent all day dodging other people in order to avoiding being unfairly grumpy to people (though it wouldn't be totally unfair of me to be grumpy towards one or two of them).

It's hard to avoid all people when you've moved in with your parents. There are people everywhere. EVERYWHERE. So it's hard to get away from everyone without actually leaving the house, which I ultimately did for a while. I've even sort of avoided talking to any friends, as I know I'd end up saying something snarky to one of them at some point. Don't know why I'm so damn pissy today. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

my new book group and other things

2006-08-03T19:37:00.000-05:00

As promised, I still have many many pictures from Italy to post here, but for now I'm going to write a regular post about this and that...stuff going on in the past few weeks. At the persistent request of my anonymous reader in Cincinnati, I'm now going to tell about the first meeting of the book club I organized. (By the way, Anonymous, I think I'm going to start calling you Ann for short, since I don't have a real name for you as of yet, even though you enjoy to read and comment on my blog. ;) I'm glad for that; I just wish I knew who you are!)

So anyway, last week was my first book club meeting. I started to put this club together as soon as I started at Starbucks because 1) there is ZERO intellectual/literary/creative life where I live right now, and I'm dying because of it. I figured that if I can't find it, I'm going to do my best to plant the seeds and create it myself. As I've said here before, if it works out, I'm next going to create an open-mic thing at my starbucks as well. 2) it's a great way for me to show my boss that I'm serious about digging my heels in and creating an awesome store here, one that is a little different from all the others and that works with the community in its own unique way. Might sound cheesy, I know, but I'm serious about it and about moving up in this job. And 3) it's just something fun to do with my time and a great way to continue meeting people---though that is connected to my first reason for starting the club.

Well, after I posted the notice on the bulletin board at the store and a couple other starbucks, I started to hear from lots of interested people about it, and we set the first meeting for last Wednesday. I choose the first book blindly, based on reviews and awards it was nominated for: The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss. Turned out to be an awesome books, which I recommend to anyone. It switches point of view and moves around in time and geography, but it ultimately all comes together at the end. It's heartbreaking and freaking hilarious at once. Read it.

Once I discovered how good the book is, I became super excited for our first meeting, because I couldn't wait to discuss it with people and learn what they all thought of it. Unfortunately, most of them did not like it very well. There were 6 people, including myself, and the consensus was that it's "confusing" and a little "boring" which totally blows me away, as there wasn't a boring moment in my read and I found nothing to be confusing, once you grasped the alternating patterns between narrators. I wasn't the slightest bit dismayed that the other readers didn't like it; that's their own opinion. However, I was a little disappointed at why they didn't like it.

But, not to sound too elitist, I have to remind myself that this isn't a graduate literature course, and the purpose is to have fun and get people together and give them a place to talk about books. And that's exactly what happened last week. We still had a decent discussion, and most encouragingly, despite the common opinion of the book, everyone was very excited to be there and to be "founding members" of the group. That made me so happy.

So after our discussion of the book, we covered some logistics, settling on a standing monthly day and time for the meetings, as well as a system for choosing each book. Next, we're reading a Confederacy of Dunces, which I have been told many many times to read and never got around to. I started it today and it's killing me.

I look forward to a fabulous meeting at the end of this month, since I suspect this book will have a better reception, and also because I have heard from a handful of additional people who want to be part of the group. So we should have a more robust discussion, which excites me.

And then after our meeting last week, I went straight to a friend's house in Fort Lauderdale, as we had plans to hit one of the bars down there that I kept hearing about. We had a fabulous time, perhaps too good a time. As I mentioned in my brief post the next day, I drank way too much and had a rough next day because of it. However, it was worth it. This was a great club, and I had lots of fun with Roni and her friend George, who I met that night. The problem, though, is that Roni likes to buy jager bombs for people. Lots and lots of them. And I kept accepting them. But then at one point, I got very serious and responsible and said "no more jager bombs for me." I thought I'd downshift a tad and do a straight shot of jager instead, stupidly, drunkenly believing it was the less intoxicating choice (because of course, it's the Red Bull in jager bombs that causes all the problems, right?). Really, I know better, but when you've been drinking like that, all reason and common sense go running away. I stayed in Lauderdale that night because there was no way I could drive home in that condition. I was so ridiculously hung-over in the morning, and the worst part was that I was so hungry, even though most food sounded repugnant. And then I was struck with a thought: pepperoni-pizza flavored combos. I HAD to have them. They sounded so good, so I got some and it was all I could keep down all day. Unfortunately, I had to work that afternoon.

I've been back down to Lauderdale a couple times since then, and it seems to be a horrible influence on me, as I repeatedly end up drinking too much and staying out way too late. On the other hand, I have found much more interesting people and places there than here in West Palm. And it's not that long a drive. Maybe 30 to 40 minutes from work.

Maybe I'm too old for it, but I really don't care. If I had kids or even a spouse, it would be a different story, but I don't. I'm having fun, and that was sort of one of my reasons for moving down here: to stop taking everything so seriously to the point of constant stress, depression, and worry.

Well, anyway, that's been my existence since coming home from vacation. Reading group, work, and too much drinking.

Also, I got a whole bunch of my hair cut off yesterday. It was getting unmanageably long, so I had it cut to my jaw. Bob length. It's a good length for me and has always been my default haircut, when I just don't know what else to do with it. I think I'm pretty happy with it. If nothing else, I'm happy for a change in appearance. Gotta do that once in a while. I'll get a new picture up here when I get a chance to have someone take one of me.

Ok, I'm going to gather some more Italy pics and throw some up here. I realized that I still have so many I want to show people.

2006-08-03T08:59:00.000-05:00

More pictures and posts are coming. I'm off today and will finally have a chance to finish them this afternoon. Yay! I have so many things to post here, and I just haven't had time.

People

2006-08-01T07:41:00.000-05:00

I encoutnered interesting people everywhere. Here are a few of them.

This guy was making and selling bracelets:

Accordion player outside the Galleria dell'Accademia:

Merchant taking a little nap:

Sidewalk artist at night:

These guys were awesome. They were playing on the Ponte Vecchio one evening, and they are really really good. They even covered a few Dylan songs. The fiddler was especially good and was used in some interesting ways in some of their covers.
I did not expect to see these guys in Florence, Italy:

Lots of these "moving statue" people there:

I bought a leather bag from this sweet man.

At and near our hotel

2006-08-01T07:02:00.000-05:00

Breakfast was a big deal for us every morning. It got us up and out of the room early enough to get a great start on each day. Also, it was a fabulous chance to see the other people staying at the hotel...always interesting because of the handful of nationalities in one place. Unfortunately, though, there was a pervasive "UA" problem. UA? Ugly American. You know the type. The loud-mouth asshole who refuses to speak anything but English, and when someone doesn't understand, the UA's solution is to talk LOUDLY. The blithering idiot who travels to far-away places as a status thing, but gets pissy when everything isn't just as s/he is used to at home. There were a couple of these people at our hotel, and I hated them. Actually, I saw them all over Florence. It made me cringe and want to go around apologizing to everyone who fell victim to the UA's shitty attitude.

Anyway, back to the fun things. So as I was saying, breakfast was always fun. A pleasant, quiet way to start the day, and a couple times, I got down there long before Amy and Mom so I could have a few minutes of journal time before the day started. Oh, and my room overlooked the breakfast patio.

The view from my room of the hotel's outdoor breakfast area and surrounding buildings:

My window from the breakfast area:

The stray kitty who lived at the hotel and scored lots of great food every morning:

My perfect breakfast: kick-ass coffee, a pastry, and some journal time.

This is the hotel across the street from ours. I took this picture because of the flag, which isn't actually a pride flag as it might appear. It says "Pace" (Peace) and they are all over the place over there. Everywhere.

This is my mom at the cafe down the street from the hotel. She's buying some goodies for us to keep in our room:

Many

2006-07-29T14:31:00.000-05:00

more pictures to come. But first I have to go to work now. Will put the rest up later tonight or tomorrow morning.

On the Ponte, vendors, and artists

2006-07-29T13:53:00.000-05:00

On the Ponte Vecchio:

Amy looking out a window in a shop on the bridge:

I bought a watercolor from the guy in the middle. I love it!

These are the "unofficial" merchants on the street leading up to the Ponte Vecchio. Anytime the police come around, these guys swoop up their goods and hide in an alley or something.