Seeing Movies Alone

I just rinsed face wash out of my eye. And that will likely be the final highlight of my day. Got up, went to work, saw a movie, saw some puppies, came home, washed my face, got face wash in my eye, rinsed it out.

Today my bold move was to see a movie by myself. Jeremy is away on a karate retreat sort of thing, and I'm by myself until tomorrow evening some time. Initially I decided to see a movie while he was gone, and go alone. Then I thought why not ask someone? I rarely hang out with people, I'm not really a friends kind of person I'm discovering, so seeing a movie with someone would be a good opportunity to remedy that fault in my character design. Then I read a post from the blog where I discovered BMO, and it challenged me to see a movie by myself this weekend. So I said to myself, self, you are excellent company. Let us enjoy a film together in a dark cinema where we can quietly make rude jokes about the people around us while also keeping up a humorous commentary on the film itself. And so I did.

I even got all cute and stuff, so as not to look like a total loser going to see a movie by herself. I dressed snappy and adorable, I put some eyeliner on. I even bought myself concessions, cause it was a proper date. My coat smells like popcorn and stale butter now though, which I don't recall ever happening before when I went to the movies with other people. So that's new and intriguing.

I saw Pitch Perfect, which I recommend if you like singing, cute females, cute story lines about friends and love interests, and Anna Kendrick (who is adorable).

I stopped by mom's afterward to see the new litter of puppies, of which I took no pictures. Their eyes aren't even open yet guys. Also, their ears. The little bitches can't even hear themselves whining like they're being abused when you pick them up. I get it, you don't like being lifted. Quiet down. They are kinda cute though, in a worm-puppy like way. I still like my full-sized dog better, but then I'm biased. We live together and she snuggles with me when I watch old movies that Jeremy won't watch cause they're in black and white. She's not phased by that. I'm not sure why...

When I went to take my eyeliner off, which is important to do because otherwise you fall asleep with it and then look disgusting and sloppy in the morning, I had to wash my face afterwards because the makeup remover is oily. That's how I ended up rinsing face wash out of my eye. Because I'm an idiot.

Let me tell you some more about going to the movies alone, since that was the important learning experience of my day. (Also, even if it's all natural, face wash in the eye still really burns. That was an important learning experience. Very important.) It isn't that bad. I kind of enjoyed it actually. Don't get me wrong, seeing a comedy with other people is part of what makes some of the jokes so funny. And if you're with other people you don't feel weird laughing at said jokes. That's one thing I kept coming back to while I sat there in the dark, the only person with no one near them. (Seriously, there weren't even people like, a few seats down from me.) Whenever I wanted to laugh at something, I found myself making a conscious effort to be very quiet about it. Laughing out loud with other people is expected, but laughing when you're by yourself almost comes off as a little crazy. I'm not sure why. If I saw someone in a theater laughing at a joke, I don't know that I would think to myself, 'that person's enjoying the movie' or 'that person is clearly unhinged, laughing at a movie they came to alone.' So naturally every time I laughed, I assumed everyone else who had seen me sitting by myself thought I was sad, crazy, and lonely. I would like to see more movies by myself to see if this constantly worrying what other people think about me while we all watch a movie in the same room even though none of us know each other can be overcome.

In that regard, I wonder if this constantly worrying what other people think of me in my day to day life can be overcome. It's exhausting always worrying about things you have no control over. It's also exhausting knowing you have no control over it, but trying to control it anyway because you're a control freak. Finally it's even more exhausting knowing you're a control freak and yet somehow you can't control that about yourself.

The mind is a terrible thing sometimes.

I brought my own candy into the theater. Important to note. Because I like pistachios and sugar-free candy. Know what the movie theater doesn't sell? Pistachios and GD sugar-free candy! I did buy a Diet Coke though, and I firmly put my foot down when they asked if I wanted to get a bajillion ounces more for only fifty cents. No one needs that much beverage during a two hour movie that they can't even pause so they can get up and pee! Because there's no way a person can drink that much liquid and not have to pee within two hours. Also, a comedy about a cappela singing groups in college is seriously two hours long. That part kinda blew my mind.

Still a good movie.

And a good outing.

More Bitching and Moaning

First day of Bold Moves October, I did not a damn thing. Second day, I shared part of a story with the handful of people who keep up with this blog. Third day. Not a damn thing. Fourth day. Still not a damn thing. And today, the fifth day of this magical Bold Moves month, I still haven't done a single goddamn bold thing. But I have a plan. It's a very delicate plan, and it requires a balance. If I discuss it further, the scales will tip and I'll be screwed. Like, super boned.

Until I can speak more openly on that, I will speak openly on everything else. Which is something I sincerely make efforts to do in my day to day life, but people make it really damn difficult. Everyone is always sensitive. People say they prefer honesty, but they're fucking liars and they just want you to lie to them in return. It's like they see it as them doing you a favor, by lying and not telling you how they really feel about things, so naturally they expect you to lie to them as well. They probably even expect you to lie to other people as well. Pay it forward, but in a really cynical and insincere way. So since I haven't made any additional bold moves, I'm instating a shiny new honesty system. That's my move.

Today, I boldly decide that from now on, I will try to be as honest as possible with people, without intentionally hurting their feelings. I will try very hard not to insult them in my efforts, but if it happens I will feel sorry, and I will try to express that. I will be sincere, and I will try to be helpful in my critique. Sometimes, most times, my honesty will likely all be very negative. However I will make a genuine effort to find a positive, in an attempt to counter-balance this. With that in mind, I will also make it a personal goal of mine to find ways to be honest and constructive without being unkind. Until I can do that, I will likely just come across as mean. It happens. I accept that.

While being honest, I would like to say that I have $10 in my saving account, and that is because I recently (today) moved $20 to my checking account to cover a payment coming out next week. So this morning, I had $30 in my savings account.

That is my life.

At work the other day, one employee was telling me that another employee was possibly leaving for a job with an annual income of $23,000.00. I said wow, and she said to me, "you think that's a lot?"

I cannot properly convey how she sounded when she said it across the internet and with only written word. This makes me incredibly sad and aggravated because now when I continue my bitching you won't quite understand where all my rage is coming from. Suffice it to say, she sounded very condescending. Thus my bitching continues:

Yes. Yes I do think that's a lot of fucking money. Do you know how many hours I work, and how much money I make? Because I damn well do, and I would be incredibly grateful to be making that much money. Oh, you started here making that much money? Good for fucking you. I did not. I started barely above minimum wage and it took me three years to get to the pay rate I have now. No, I don't have a bachelor's degree in whatever business bullshit you have. I only have an associates and it constantly seems to be one of the worst decisions I ever made. But I worked up to my measly rate, and maybe it did take me three years (three fucking years!) but I am actually proud that I was able to accomplish so little with so little training and formal education. No, I don't own my own house with a 30-year mortgage because I could never afford the down payment on anything because I'm busy blowing all my cash on bills and student loans. You aren't familiar with student loan payments because you were fortunate enough to have parents who were well off and who paid for your education. That must be nice. I didn't have that. Do you know what I made last year? I was barely into four digits. To file at the end of that stupid fucking year, and discover that all the mental and physical exhaustion of such a bullshit fucking job was for barely anything was humiliating, infuriating, and depressing. Yes, I do think making $23,000.00 a year is a lot of money. Yes, I realize that it actually is not. Yes, I think you are an awful person to speak to another human being in such a condescending and belittling tone. And where we work too, no less. Like it isn't enough for me to know that my job is crap and my title is meaningless and all the work I do is equally meaningless and to know that no one else there really gives a crap and that my work ethic is slowly being destroyed by constantly being surrounded by people who don't give a fuck but being made to feel like I should for some reason. On top of that, I have you making me feel like a fucking peasant. Fuck you. You're a terrible human being. I deserve better than to have to hear comments like that from people like you.

It's probably good not to be too honest sometimes, cause if I had actually said any of that I probably wouldn't have that shitty job. It really sucks to have to rely on something that provides so little and so much at the same time. While also sucking my will to live.

Bold Moves

The internet has been telling me that October is unofficially Bold Moves October, and I've been wanting to make changes lately in my life. I hate the feeling that I'm not moving forward, particularly when I'm actually not moving forward. I get it, life, you don't have to smack me in the face with it.

I colored my hair blue.

That was supposed to be my big change, the thing that propels me to continue to make changes and take chances. And then not even a week later, the color was already fading. This did not bode well for my immediate future. My catalyst was already getting tired.

There were a few other things I wanted to do, not very drastic changes, but changes all the same that I wanted to make and things I wanted to do. But I kept finding reasons not to do them. I'm still finding reasons not to do them. That list of things I posted should have been a good indicator that I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life, or what I want from it. So I'm trying to figure that out. And then maybe I'll be able to make changes. It's hard to know what changes will make a difference when you don't know what changes need to be made.

The first step I'm taking is making a concerted effort to finish writing at least one book. I'm making it easy on myself (because it appears to really fucking difficult for me to stay on track) and writing a collection of short stories. I have a title and everything.

13 Tales of Love + Revenge

I hate that it looks that way, but other variations were already taken. I considered changing the name but I really like how this one sounds. I'll be honest, I stole the title from an album by The Pierces, who everybody should check out. It's also technically fourteen stories because I'm including a prologue. I had the idea last year about this time but I was going to use song titles as story titles. Then I made that list and discovered that I have fourteen unfinished short stories. I will refer to this discovery as the eureka moment when I'm regaling audiences at the Q&A after my book readings.

In light of this resolve, I will also be forcing myself to be more secure with my work. And let people actually read it. How can I know if it's any good if nobody ever reads it? With that in mind, I will be sharing with you one of the incomplete short stories. (They're all incomplete, but some of them are seriously just titles. No body.) I wish you could understand how protective I am of my work, and how much bravado it's taking me to post even this one partial story. Sometimes even worse than worrying what people think when they read my work, is worrying that no one will read it at all. If you take the time to read it, please try not to be too critical. I'm a sensitive artist.

(Straight copy-and-pasted from OpenOffice, this shit is even dated. Boom.)

Longhand

3-feb-12

His callused hands were trembling when he finally put the shovel down. It had taken all night, and the sun would be up soon, but he had to do it. So he did. It made him sick just thinking about it, and so many times he wanted to drop the shovel and run. Leave the bag, the trunk, the jacket he had discarded when he got too warm, and just get the hell out of there. But he owed the lady a favor, and if nothing else could be said about John Sovereign, he at least paid his debts.

Seven years ago to the day John Sovereign had knocked on Lady Demain's door, disregarded all his pride and dignity, and shamelessly asked Lady for one hundred grand so that he could marry Sara Boudreaux. Lady Demain knew John's standing in town, poor but dependable, motivated and ambitious but again, poor, and money could accomplish a lot more than ambition. She also knew Sara's standing, as the daughter of the wealthiest man in town. Lady smiled at John and invited him in for tea.

John Sovereign is thirty-two when his daughter is born. He was hoping for a girl, unlike everyone else in his family, his wife included. She dies giving birth. It takes her all night and she does not go quietly. She sobs and screams well into the early morning hours and as the sun starts to rise she seems to finally expire. With the last of her strength she curses the baby Sovereign and gathers her soaked and bloody rags to her bosom, cradling them as she should have her child. Her maid leans in to check her pulse and is startled when the woman sits bolt upright suddenly and whips her rags across the room. She collapses back into the bed, finally gone, as the rags splash against the baby's crib with a moist slap and are left to pool at the floor. John, resting his eyes in a rocking chair beside the crib, leans forward to check on the girl. She's awake, but quiet. He smiles down at her and she stares back in wonder. As the sun pours through the window behind them he sees the blood that has spattered on her face. He reaches in to brush a few drops from her cheek and they leave a smear across her face. She looks like a tiny warrior, imposing and sedate. Baby Girl Sovereign remains quiet as he wipes the remaining blood from her. She has come into this world quiet and accepting and she stares at John with trust. So unlike her mother, who has left this world angry and bitter and throwing her blood back into it defiantly, at her own child no less. How dare this child be her demise. How dare this woman act as though she can seal this child's fate. John names her Michele, a gift from god. He reflects how, even clean of it now, in the morning sun she still looks as though she were covered in her mother's blood.

When John sees Lady again his beard is almost completely gray. He has lines all over his face; frown lines across his forehead, laugh lines around his mouth, crow's feet at the edges of his eyes. He's still as handsome as the first day he came to her door, hat in hand, shuffling his feet, swallowing nervously but never once not meeting her eye. His back is just as straight, his shoulders just as broad and strong, and his head is still held just as high. His eyes are still clear and they still meet Lady's unabashedly. But she sees in them now, more than anything else about him, just how old he really is. And oddly, despite the gray hair, all the lines in his handsome face, the almost ancient eyes; it's Lady that feels old. Looking at him, so shamelessly human, she can't help but be reminded of her own lacking humanity. She's reminded of her lustrous auburn hair, her beautiful and flawless skin, but more than anything when she looks into his eyes and sees all of his life, she is reminded of her own eyes. Empty. Lifeless. So devoid of a light of any kind they can't even seem sad. But Lady is sad. So very, painfully sad.

In an instant, from the door opening to seeing the startled look on Lady's face, John has fallen in love with her yet again. When she takes in his appearance he sees her expression change and no one else but John would ever notice it but he does, because he's John. He watches her go from startled, to appreciative, and to infinitely sad within moments. His heart pounds in almost unbearable agony and anger with equal measure. Agony in response to her own, anger in response to her suffering. He sees her eyes, so gray and dark, like an autumn sky before a snowfall. He takes in her face, so lovely and open, and he knows how she sees herself: eternally young and beautiful. And he sees that too, it's impossible to miss. She looks exactly the same as the first day they met, when he was much younger, many years ago. But he sees something else too. He sees how she hates knowing that she will always be young and beautiful. And he wants to make her see how he sees.

Lady seems to be waiting with bated breath. If she needed to breathe, John knows she certainly would be. She seems almost frightened. Then John smiles at her, and she would swear she melted. He takes a step forward, the toe of his shoe right against the threshold of the door. She hears the flutter of his heart and she can feel the warmth radiating off of him. Her eyes seem different now, still so dark and gray, but the sadness isn't as prominent. It's been replaced by something else, something she feels in every part of her. It's all over her face and looking at John she feels as if she were seeing an exact reflection of herself. It's the one thing she's never wanted anyone to see, even if she thought they could. No one but John. And she knows he does. Lady smiles back at him, so warm and inviting. John takes one more step.