Love and Marriage and Work and the English Language

When I've been up for a while and Jeremy is still asleep, I'll pass the bedroom and see him taking up the entire bed and think, 'man that guy's amazing, I'm glad we're best friends... how do we both fit on that thing?' (cause he's kinda tall, I don't know if I've expressed that before). Then I'll go in and kiss his forehead or whatever. Except I always give him a heads up like, 'Husband I love you,' or 'Jeremy I'm going to kiss you,' or my personal favorite, 'hey don't punch me in the throat,' cause of that one time I attempted to kiss him while he was sleeping and he tried to punch me in the throat. Cause he thought I was a zombie.

This is what I married, guys.

I chose him.

He was like, 'you wanna do this thing?'

And I was like, 'pssh, hell yeah!'

Yesterday at work I wrote angry missives to each patron I had. Well, almost each patron. I would finish our interaction, and write a few lines on some scrap paper about how much they were damaging the human race. Then I would tear that shit up and pretend it never happened. It made the day a little better.

Also of note, I went to the wrong library yesterday by accident. (Obviously, because who would do that on purpose?) When I showed up at the right library the guard was like, 'this one is ----' and I was like 'oh no kidding asshole? I thought it was ----.' (Dashes because while yes, it's pretty clear where I work, I don't think I've been specific about names... Have I?) I really hate it when people think they're being clever by pointing out the mistakes you are already aware of. When it happens to me I always have to rifle through my extensive memory and check if it's a thing I do and this is the universe telling me not to be such a douche. I do it. To be fair though, I only do it if I know the other person won't be aggravated by it. To be more fair, I don't mind it sometimes, but first thing in the morning when I'm clearly running late because I can't read a schedule, apparently, and I'm worried that not even a full week after an excellent evaluation my coming into work late because I'm an idiot will make my supervisors reconsider their position... that is not a good time to think you're clever, random security guard.

Light note: a patron owed money and when she asked how much I told her three fifty. She replied, tree fiddy? And I stifled a laugh. (Guys I just learned that I've been spelling 'stifled' wrong, for years. Blogger just angry red lined it when I put two F's in it. How did I not know this? It's literally been years.)

Clerk Apprentice I

I had my six week evaluation yesterday. I've worked there longer but your time is determined by how many hours you work, which is also how I gain seniority (so note to self, start picking up more hours). They may have also waited till they had done everyone else's yearly evaluations, and there's a bunch of us so that takes time. Regardless, I am now officially a Clerk Apprentice I. I got to switch out my name tag and everything. I also got glowing reviews and I was even complimented on my eloquent grasp of the English language. Seriously. Last week I had to turn in the goals and objectives, and when I met with my supervisor yesterday she said that she normally has to change some wording or sometimes rewrite the goal entirely so that it reads more professionally and she barely had to change anything in mine. She was very impressed with how well I presented myself.

I had gotten to a point at work where I was just doing my thing and hoping it was good enough, sub-par at best, and I was fine with that approach. It didn't occur to me that even when I'm not really trying I'm still excelling because it's in my nature to work hard. But I don't like not caring. I felt like I was doing good work, but no one was saying that so I had no idea if I actually was. Turns out that because I don't receive praise a lot, I often forget the good things about myself. If I'm not constantly being reminded that I'm good at things, I start to forget and end up thinking I'm actually not good at anything. It's pretty rough. A person shouldn't need constant validation. That's unhealthy. But I've recognized that trait in myself and I'm trying to correct it. I don't like that it's me this many years to see it though.

I was worried that maybe I was too quiet at work, and that's something I thought I should work on in my goals. Then I was complimented on that aspect because it creates a more trusting environment where people feel secure that I won't be talking about them behind their backs. Which happens a crazy lot, but that's to be expected when you have women working together unfortunately. They think I'm calm, adaptable, timely, efficient, and polite. These things are all true. They also think I show potential for more responsibility, which I guess is good. I don't know that I really want that right now. I suppose if it leads to something full-time then I should be more open to it. I don't like being responsible for things though. It doesn't make me nervous I just don't like having to deal with people who don't take direction well and then I end up having to correct their mistakes and doing twice the work. That doesn't sound fun at all.

Oh, also, I get an automatic raise in six months.

Pills, Work, Words, Iceman

Every morning I go through the arduous task of trying to swallow my birth control pill. From the time I put it in my mouth, to the time I actually manage to swallow it, always differs. This morning it was only like, fifteen seconds. Yesterday morning it took me almost a full minute. I don't have the easiest time taking pills but I really didn't think a pill this tiny would be so difficult.

I have to have liquid in my mouth before I can put any kind of pill in it, cause I'm insane and I imagine that if I put the pill in first it'll just sit on my tongue like so much dead weight and no matter how much I drink it'll never move until it dissolves and then I'll be stuck with that awful taste. So I take a drink first and then imagine the pill is just floating around in the there trying to find the back of my throat cause it wants to go home. (In this analogy, home is heaven and the back of my throat is the guiding light. It's fucked up, I know.)

Sometimes I have to take a second drink cause I've managed to swallow all of the first sip without taking the pill so it's just sitting there drying out and making me feel sick. Sometimes I use a really cold beverage and by the time I manage to get the stupid pill down that sip can be best described as lukewarm. (Occasionally, hot. Gross.) Sometimes it gets stuck between my back molars and the inside of my cheek, that happened three consecutive mornings last week. I was angry. Once I thought I had taken it, but it turns out it started to dissolve and had reached the point where when it was trapped between my molar and mouth, it was so tiny that I didn't even notice I hadn't actually swallowed it.

Sometimes I can take the pill with just a handful of water from the bathroom sink. If you've never taken a handful of water from a faucet before, what have you been doing with your entire life? I bet you also use an actual cup to rinse your mouth after brushing your teeth. You pretentious ponce. It's not a whole bunch of water, in that handful, is the point I was trying to get at. I used to take a super tiny pill with basically the equivalent amount of water, and it was no trouble. I did it just last Sunday. Why is my mouth-throat-water-pill-situation never the same?

Those are just the issues with the birth control. I take vitamins too. Half of them I chew. They're not chewables. I have some issues with swallowing small objects. Which... I guess is... good? At least I know I'll never be inclined to eat like, Legos, (Lego's?) or something. (At 25. When the pallet finds Legos most delectable.)


A couple days ago at work some broad asked me to help her retrieve a password that had been sent to her email. I saw it was a yahoo address, I directed her to the yahoo website. She said, do I type it in here? and gestured to some random point on screen. I corrected her and prepared myself for the absurdity that I knew was forthcoming. We go through her logging in process and it says the username and password is incorrect. I asked her to try typing in the password again and she says, I don't remember it. I ask if she was trying to tell me that the password she was trying to get was for her email. She says no and gestures wildly to some lottery scratch-off cards she has in front of her, eventually explaining (I made a lot of helpful guesses in this game of 'guess what this string of mumbles and murmurs means'.) that she had entered an email address on this website and that they had sent a password to this email for her to use on the same website. Or some such nonsense.

Long story short (too late): she didn't even have an email address. She had made one up for the purpose of that website, and if that email already existed then she's out of luck because somebody else has the password she was looking for.


The other day, while killing time at the slowest branch at work, I found one of the loveliest definitions to an already lovely word.

    suspire:

1. to breathe
2. to sigh

"And from that one intake of fire/ All creatures still warmly suspire" - Robert Frost
(Thank you Free Dictionary.)

I love the word 'wherein.' I think it's so magical. It sounds like an adventure awaits, and not just any adventure. This particular adventure has sword fights, and eye patches, and a rambling old fool who turns out to be the rightful lord of the land, and a damsel who for once isn't in any distress. Speaking of which, one of my favorite things ever in film is the scene in Enchanted when Giselle slays the dragon, because I'm bored of women always finding themselves in trouble and then having to wait for a white knight to save them. Save yourself, for god sake. You're better than that. 

This brings me to another point, RE The Following. Can anyone tell me why every female character, even the FBI agent whose name I don't remember because that's how much of an impression her character has made on me, is either a victim or a psycho? Also, I don't honestly care about Joe Carroll. I want to know what's up with Harper, and I want to know what's up with Bobby Drake. I want detailed back stories and I want them now. Bobby Drake is having some issues right now, everyone knows that. Why is it that when he lashes out in an unconventional interrogation Harper's all, what's up with you man? Are you kidding me, Harper? That dude was forced into a Fight Club because he knew where your lady love was and they practically killed him when he wouldn't say. He is going through some shit right now, Harper. He needs time to process and talk to a therapist.

To be fair, I honestly have no idea how much time has passed on this show so maybe he did have sufficient time off to deal with his problems and he just didn't? I don't know. What I do know is that the writers are making me angry and I'm only continuing to watch cause of that reveal at the end of the last episode that made me go, oh-HO SNAP RYAN HARPER you're hardcore! Also, I would have sex with Bobby Drake.

Alright that's it.

Conversation I Recently Had

Me (on the phone): Oh no that's awful. Yeah happy to help.

Mom: Did someone die?

Me: Yeah some broad at work, her granddad passed away recently so I'm picking up her shift Friday.

Mom: Oh that's terrible.

Me: He was like ninety and had been dying for like, a year.

Mom: That's still sad though.

Me: I mean yeah, but after that long aren't you kinda relieved that it's finally done with. And aren't you a little pissed that they've taken so long? It's been a year, come on now.

Mom (laughs, maybe uncomfortably at first): I guess so yeah. Your grandma seemed to drag it out near the end there.

I'm a terrible person. I also paraphrased mom a little there on that last line, but I can vouch that it did seem to take her mom forever to die. I feel like I grew up in that hospital while that woman was slowly but surely kicking the bucket.

Untitled Post

While putting off emailing a supervisor a set of goals and objectives to reach said goals, I started browsing the internet and got distracted by THE WORLD, as I often do. I kept telling myself I was waiting for Jeremy to proof-read it before I sent it, but really I just don't want to send it. Having a job where I have to set goals for myself is irritating. Especially because they aren't goals to improve my job performance, or advance my position. I'm already excelling in the performance area, and I can't advance my position until the people hired before me either advance their own or decide they don't want to. I'm dependent on them. I don't like it. They're personal goals, to I guess help me enjoy my work day? I made stuff up that sounded like what they would want to hear.

In more important news, I definitely don't like my job. I told my brother that and he said, 'I could've told you that.' So uh... why didn't you? I keep that maybe if I were in a different unit I would enjoy it but I can't really say for sure that what I don't like can be narrowed down to a specific thing like that. There's a lot I don't like, and not much I do. When I was discussing this with my aunt about a month ago the things I did like outweighed the things I didn't and we decided that while it wasn't perfect it was still better than having a job and disliking the majority of it. I've reached the point where I dislike the majority of it.

Jeremy and I were talking about our mutual dislike of our current means of employment and I was saying how I need a job where I don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to, that allows me to be creative and challenges me, affords us the kind of vacation time we want (a week off without having to schedule months in advance, or even just a weekend off without having to schedule a month in advance and still not be totally sure that I'll get it), and also affords our expensive taste. Or even moderate taste. Comfortable living, really, is what we're aiming for right now.

I said, I need something...

Jeremy said, write.

Except for some reason I heard that word as, right.

I think both words apply.

Until then, I guess I just have to pretend I like my job and hope that eventually it'll come back to me and I won't be pretending anymore. And also keep writing. Always always writing.

Briefly

People who talk to themselves aggressively about the situation around them while occasionally making eye contact with others are clearly just hoping someone will say something so they have a reason to start a fight. That's stupid. Just start a fight.

I don't know why I ever imagine shopping will be a hassle free, semi relaxing experience, but I always manage to fool myself into that mindset. Then I find myself in the store, trying to navigate my cart through idiot human being after idiot human being and becoming more and more enraged. They stop in the middle of an aisle, they weave back and forth slowly in front of you like they know you're trying to move past them but they'll be damned if they'll let you because god forbid you should get to the celery before them. I hate them. They let their children roam about aimlessly, always finding their way directly in front of your cart and always finding themselves suddenly stricken deaf so that you have to say 'excuse me can I pass' so loudly that no one believes you sincerely wish to be excused. You're right, terrible absent-minded parent, I don't wish to be excused. I wish to get my friggin' green tea and move on to the next item on my list.

No really. I hate them.

The sign that has hours and whatnot listen behind the circulation desk at the library has one particular note that needs to be shared.

Sorry-

We do not accept foreign currency, including Canadia coins.

My browser underlined the word that you probably think (correctly) is spelled inaccurately, and I noticed it. I would've corrected it, except I want to drive home the point that while I certainly saw the error, because at a glance the wavy red line under the word drew my attention, this sign went past numerous people and various printers, AND NOBODY NOTICED.

It's a big sign too, you guys. Like, sideways poster size. Large. Obvious. Why has nobody fixed this?

More Musings

We celebrated my birthday early this month and mom posted some pictures of the festivities on Facebook and people wished me a happy birthday. Except it wasn't on my actual birthday. So now people think my birthday is March 2nd. It's not. I don't have my birthday on Facebook cause I don't like insincere birthday wishes. If you remembered on your own and it's like, two days later, that's cool. But if you only remembered because Facebook told you, and not because you scheduled a reminder or something, and you felt it was necessary to say something, I would rather you didn't. It makes me think you want people to think you're thoughtful and kind when really it was just bold text on your page that caught your eye.

Except my sister's mom. She can wish me a happy birthday in July if she wants to and I'd be pleased as punch about it cause she's one of most earnest people I know. Her well-wishings just make me think... she wishes me well. For Christmas one year, she got me a coat and scarf. It was a great coat too, which I still have even though it no longer fits cause I got chubby. (And fabulous!)

My mom made me a cake. It was, and still is, delicious. The other half of it is in my fridge and keep refraining from eating the entire thing. It's a struggle. She also hosted a taco night for me and I got to see friends who I rarely ever see. It was pretty exciting times guys.

I'm focusing on my birthday cause it's in a few days (obviously) and when I thought about it a few months ago it really brought me down. I was in that state of mind where it felt like everyone I knew was doing these great things, and reaching the goals you're supposed to reach when you become an adult. Not immediately when you become an adult, but at least before you're thirty because the stigma seems to be that after thirty if you haven't accomplished certain things than you're a loser or you lack motivation and drive, you have no ambition, blah blah blah.

At 8:37 Thursday morning I will officially turn a quarter of a century old.

I'm incredibly excited about it. I have no idea what's been happening lately with me mentally but this is the same event that made me devastated about the state of my life when I thought about it not even six months ago. Yet somehow, when I've considered it more recently, I am genuinely happy about it.

I thought by now I would have a better car, a better home (maybe be on the way to owning that home), be pregnant (if I didn't already have at least one tiny baby), have money saved so that when I had to take maternity leave we wouldn't be in the shit house, have a matching set of pots and pans (still a thing I hope to have one day... :le sigh:), have finally received an acceptance letter from an agent/editor/publishing house... I thought I would have done more by now.

Of the things that I have accomplished, which is absolutely not any of the above, I manage to look at my life and think how great it is. I know that where I am now isn't where I'll be in five years, or even next year. Twenty-five is exciting instead of terrifying because I say it is.

I have an amazing best friend, an amazing dog, a shabby apartment that people always seem to think is 'cute', I have a pretty great job (even though the people are disgusting), I write as often I can, I read as often as I can, every once in awhile I get in touch with people I haven't spoken to or seen in a long time and it doesn't seem like it's been that long, my family is insane but I guess I love them anyway, my Jeep is a piece of crap but Jeremy and I make jokes about it and it's not so bad afterward- what I'm driving at here is that there isn't an obvious amount of terrific going on in my life. And the operative word is 'obvious.' (Because it seems pretty terrific to me right now.)

Work-Related Musings

The days when I'm trying to find ways to fill time are the worst. I'm not accustomed to down time at work. My previous experience has been that of 'if you have time to lean, you have to clean.' (Thanks, McDonald's) All this trying to look busy nonsense is driving me nuts. I keep stressing out. My conditioning and work ethic are not inclined to this atmosphere.

Tasks I found myself doing yesterday and today to fill time:

• wiped down my area of the countertop (twice)
• emptied out the pencil sharpener
• sharpened pencils (in that order)
• organized the little desk caddy next to the computer (with pens and paperclips and an obscene amount of rubber bands), then I found more rubber bands in the bottom of the pen holder portion that were black with ink (which was gross and neat)
• walked to the interior bookdrop upwards of 20 times to see if any books had come in since I last checked
• made a rubber band ball

Pretty sure when the clerks are on desk and there aren't any patrons, they're either compulsively checking their emails or they're looking up records. Like, of books. That's what it always looks like they're doing. Refreshing their email or looking at records. Personally, to look busy, sometimes I'm just looking at my own record. 'Oh yes, I do still have the same items checked out as when I looked five minutes ago.' I do it cause I forgot my email password. I'd ask someone what it's supposed to be but I don't want to look stupid. So I just check it home, where my browser kindly asked if I wanted the password saved. I should not have said yes. Apparently we're changing servers so I may have to address the issue soon.

Found a rusted and horrific looking X-acto  knife mixed in with the pens where the money is counted. I guess it gets rough in that area of the 'behind the front desk.'

A boy scout troop had a meeting the other night. They played a DVD. There was applause. I wonder what the merit badge for 'watched a DVD in a group setting' looks like.

Apparently, after six, it's totally cool to just straight up read a book while on desk. I can't tell if this place is amazing or just gives no fucks.

The Time is Now 10:59 am

During my 4-hour shift yesterday, I discovered all the things I hate about the job. Fortunately, it all boils down to two things: the patrons, for obvious reasons, and the employees. God in heaven, I hate my fellow employees. Not all of them, obviously, I'm not that hateful (I probably am) but a very large majority of them. I thought maybe there were tasks I didn't like (inaccurate, I love all the tasks), but it turns out I don't like being told to do them as if I weren't intelligent enough to figure them out on my own. 

I can see that items need checked in. I will check in the items. I do not need to be told to check in the items.

I'm searching for a patron. I've been here five weeks. I'm fairly certain that in that time, I've searched for a patron at least one goddamn time (I've searched for patrons countless times in fact. Literally, I've lost track of how often I have had to search for any patron.). I know the command for it. So when I bring up to my supervisor that the record is blah blah blah, I do not need to be reminded how to properly search. What I need is to be told why the record is blah blah blah. But thank you for assuming that in five weeks, I haven't managed to glean the simplest of tasks.

I ask if there is a specific location for new items when taking them off the truck, before they are moved out to the front desk. As in, 'should these items have their own cart before I take them out to the front desk, or can I just stack them with these items?' The answer, for some reason, is an incredibly drawn out and completely unnecessary diatribe on how the person I asked clears off the truck, which includes a lot of laughing at, what I guess are, her own jokes, and has countless 'does that make sense's thrown in. No. It does not make sense. What would make sense is answering my question. My question, to be clear, was not 'could you please explain to me your method of moving items from one location to the next as though I am an absolute idiot?' 

(I still don't know if the new items are supposed to be on a separate cart before they go out, so I just do it my way and ignore the consult of whomever happens to remark on it.)

I am corrected by multiple people, multiple times, when I do a task incorrectly. (I think that's the meaning of life though. To be corrected numerous times for the same error even though you've only done it once and you've already learned from, and/or corrected, the mistake.)

There are other people with odd names. Those people do not get stupid as hell jokes made about their name. Which I cannot fathom. One woman is named Rain, you guys. How does Storm merit jokes, but Rain does not? I have never considered going by a different name more than I have in the last two years. (But I'm stubborn, and my name is badass.)

Basically what it comes down with the employees is that everyone assumes I'm an idiot. That alone would be aggravating enough but considering how intelligent I am, (I'm super smart, guys, but you already know that) it makes me hate them. It makes me hate them in ways that blind me with rage. It makes me conscious of everything they do, and how they're doing it incorrectly, and how long it takes them to comprehend they're inaccuracies. It makes me vigilant. I see their mistakes and I think to myself, 'Storm, you could help. You could make them better.' And then I squash that thought because why would I want to help my enemies? I mean, really. It's not like I'll ever move up the ladder before they do, because that isn't how unions work. Instead, I see their mistakes and I think to myself, 'oh god really? Who let's you out in the world?' and it makes me happy.

I'm a bad person.

Yeah Work!

I saw my pregnant sister today. You guys, she is so fuckin' cute. Oh my god. I want to hang out with her all the time and have many pictures taken so that when I see other knocked chicks who are not taking to pregnancy well, I can give them a picture and be like, 'this is how you're supposed to do it, get it together.' Not even kidding, she's adorable. I'm so excited for a few weeks after the baby's born when it's super cute and not all weird-faced like newborns can be. The best part about that sentence is that everyone in our family agrees with it.

You guys, my new job, is the best thing ever. I could only be happier making a living if I were getting paid to write. As it is, if I could do this for the next twenty years I seriously don't think I would get tired or frustrated with it at all. Of course it's easy to say that now when I've only worked two days and I haven't started checking books in and out to patrons. I spent four hours today just scanning books in and putting them on the hold shelf. It was effing terrific. Yesterday I spent three hours shelving books. It was quiet. It was organized. I couldn't stop grinning. Not like a maniac though, just to myself. I love dressing nice for work and it being practical. I actually kinda like some of the people I work with. I love going to work.

We're rewatching The West Wing. I love Aaron Sorkin.

This post is filled with so much love.

Back to the work thing for a minute more. When I was busy freaking out about my first day apparently my friends and loved ones were all about being awesome and supportive. I got texts and facebook messages and my grams called and left a voicemail. Ashley reminded me to pack a lunch. Mom and dad called me 'library lady' cause I kept yelling at dad for calling me a librarian (which I am not). So... everyone is amazing. I'm full of love. This is terrific.

Some Lists

I wanted to write something meaningful, but I'm really nervous about work tomorrow so I keep stumbling over what I want to say. Instead, I will regale you with some lists.

First up, I owe $2.70 in fines to the library, that place I'll be working at tomorrow, and these are the items I forgot to return on time or forgot to renew:

• Heaven's Net is Wide: The First Tale of the Otori - Lian Hearn
• The End - Lemony Snicket
• The Penultimate Peril - Lemony Snicket
• Out of The Silent Planet - C.S. Lewis
• That Hideous Strength: A Modern Fairy-Tale for Grown-Ups - C.S. Lewis
• Perelandra - C.S. Lewis
• Rave On Buddy Holly
• Jekyll & Hyde: The Gothic Musical Thriller
• Jekyll & Hyde: The Original Cast Recording

The second list is brought to by my iTunes library, where we see the 5 most played songs (insightful shit here, kids):

• Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic (40 plays)
• Planetary (GO!) - My Chemical Romance (33 plays)
• Kiss With a Fist - Florence & the Machine (30 plays)
• Kill, Kill, Kill - The Pierces (27 plays)
• Lovely Flower in Your Pretty Red Hair - The Zou (27 plays)

Well that says a lot about me, for example how I'm apparently an emo-tastic teenager. 

I've been trying to figure out what to wear for my first day for like, the past two weeks. It has been weighing on me. I thought I finally figured it out, and I put it all together accessories and all, I even tweeted about it (picture included) and now I hate the entire outfit. I want to wear blue. I feel most confident when I'm wearing blue. But I don't have a blue shirt long enough for me to feel comfortable with my muffin top. AND I have to get my picture taken tomorrow, so whatever I wear has to be good enough that I won't hate looking at my ID badge for the next however-long-I-have-to-wear-that-thing cause I don't know how often those are updated.

It's a full day and I have an hour lunch. Do I even bother bringing food? I'm going to be stressing out all day. Do I leave for lunch? I know I can, and I'll have an hour, but I don't know if it'll be during the usual lunch time or not so I don't know if it'll be a waste of an hour having to wait in line wherever I go and then having to stuff my face in the remaining five minutes. Who am I kidding? I'll be too nervous to eat. There's all the paper work, and orientation crap- seriously though, what if I'm awful? What if I'm not the quick learner I always thought was? What if, what if, what if... 

I'm going to be up all night with this crap. Good thing I bought energy drinks when we went grocery shopping. Maybe I should light some candles. Aromatherapy and shit.

I guess the outfit is cute and practical though. That's important, right? My palms are sweaty. Oh my god I hate tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

New Story

Posted the first two chapters of a new story I'm working on. It's likely just going to end up being a long short story, like most of my work, but for now I'm keeping things separated. So check that out when you have some time. Still haven't figured out a good title yet for it. It's saved on my flash drive as 'Killers, Objects' because it was the only way I could think to remember what it was about. I hate having things saved under 'Untitled' and it's even worse when I have more than one thing Untitled because then I have to open each file up to see what the hell it is. So I try to use short, succinct descriptors.

Been watching some more Supernatural (thank ya Netflix) and it's stunning how far I have not gotten. There are 8 frickin' seasons, you guys. I just started 4. And sometimes I'm like, this episode is super not important and I'll do other stuff and then suddenly something awesome is happening and I'm completely lost. Just watched the episode where Dean goes back in time by magic or whatever and initially I was like, 'Dean don't touch your dad! Bad stuff could happen! Gross don't say your mom was a babe!' but then I thought, 'no it's cool, it's not science it's just angels and stuff.' But what if it's all the same you guys? I know, it blew my mind too.

I feel like this is reading like I'm hyper or something. If it is, that is because I am a little hyper. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, even though I buried my head under the covers like I was sleeping like a champ. Kept having super bizarre dreams, which seems to be my thing lately. Except instead of the horrifying nightmares I tend to have that make me wake up kicking blankets and whatnot all over the place, screaming, or crying (sometimes all of the above) I actually woke myself up from a dream yesterday, laughing. Not just chuckling, or light laughter, no. I woke up laughing hysterically. And I remember the dream too, cause I was laughing in it. It was not that funny guys. My subconscious has a terrible sense of humour.

I start work next Tuesday. I'm super nervous. I related this to Jeremy, he was all comforting and 'you'll do fine.' Then I worried that I would get fired, and he was all comforting and 'it'll take them a year to replace you anyway.'

Because it took them almost a year to hire me.

He's a hoot.

This All Gets a Little Confused Near the End

I feel like I'm hearing people talk about how they don't want people to read things they wrote when they were younger, or that they don't want to expose themselves too much in regards to their literary pursuits, quite a bit lately. It's strange to me, in the way that when you learn a new word suddenly everyone is using it. I'm sure the people in my life who are talking about these things now have been for some time but I'm only realizing it now. Except it isn't because I've found myself in the same mental position, it's the opposite really.

Without making any conscious effort, I've found almost absolute clarity. This also didn't occur to me until someone told me that's what was happening, well they said something to the effect. We had been talking about trying to find direction and consistency in our work and lives and when she was leaving she said I seemed focused. This possibility had never occurred to me. She said she thought I was going to be fine and that even though I didn't see it in myself she felt that I seemed focused. That's the word I zeroed in on. After she left I thought about it constantly. I kept going back to it. Focused. This whole time I've felt directionless, like I had no idea what I wanted, and even if I did know I had no idea how to get it. But someone heard me talk, they saw how I carried myself, and they said to themselves, 'that girl seems focused.' I couldn't stop replaying it in my head, and that night, well very very early the next morning, I lay awake in bed because I just wasn't tired and I said to myself, 'maybe I am focused.' Somehow that made it true.

So now I'm focused. Once I said it, everything felt like it fell into place. I want to be a writer. I want to share my stories, my thoughts, my inconsequential opinions, with as many people as possible, as often as possible. And I want them to share with me. Which brings me back to that first paragraph up there. Remember me telling you about deleting half of my work and how it seemed to be an insult to a friend of mine? I do absolutely believe that sometimes you have to be willing to just throw some things out. Which is why I did. But I also believe that sometimes you have to be willing to show people the parts of you that are so embarrassing they're practically shameful, because it helps you accept yourself. I published some of my awful, awful poetry on the website linked on the right of this page (where you can also find some of my awful, awful short stories) and the only apology I made was that I was once a young, passionate teenager. That is the only excuse I made for my work. I shouldn't have even had to do that, but I haven't reached full acceptance yet. When I do, I like to think that instead of using my youth as an excuse for my shitty melodramatic poetry, I'll use it to mount my defense. 

You should read my poems. Because it's the work of someone who has cared very deeply, and very much, and tried so hard to be open and vulnerable that she didn't realize she was the only one hurting herself. It's the work of someone who grew up way too fast, and not fast enough at the same time. Literally the exact same time. It's honest, and it's tries way too hard, and it's over-the-top, and it has no discernible direction except that of moving forward; sometimes at a steady pace, sometimes at a gallop, sometimes in a clumsy stumble. If nothing else, it is always earnest.

After that, you should read my short stories.

After that, you should ask me what else I'm working on, if I've written anything new, and can you read it. You should ask because chances are exceptionally high that it will be crap and you will not like it, but chances are also pretty good that you'll find something small and interesting in it. Something that will make you want to keep reading on the off chance that my work gets better. Then you can say you've been a fan from 'way back when she was writing really shitty, angsty things about fire, and love, and werewolves, and fanfiction like she actually knew anything about anything.' It'll be cool. Promise.

The reason I maintain this blog still, even knowing it could be damaging later in life when I'm super successful and respected (things like that, saying things like that could do damage), even knowing there's only a handful of people reading, is because at some point someone will stumble upon it, the way I stumbled onto so many unexpectedly fantastic things in my life, and it will make them feel like they're not completely alone. That's what I want to do. I want to make people feel like they belong somewhere, even if I never know I've done it.

Writing feels like the way for me to do that.

The Embrace of Love and Resistance

It had been awhile since I posted anything recently, which obviously meant that one of the three people who read this had to send me a text asking why for, so that I would get back to work regaling them (as well as a small portion of Russia, apparently) with the details of my super-awesome-exciting-day-to-day-life.

Things that have happened recently:

• Finally got the library job! It was confirmed about two weeks ago, I don't start until mid-January, and I have to dress like I give a damn (thank fuck). I also had to a write a formal letter of acceptance, which I wasn't even sure how to do. I get the general concept, it's pretty self-explanatory, but they really emphasized the acceptance letter so I asked my good friend Google about it and Google was like, 'don't be a dumb bitch, Storm, read this article.' And so I did.
• Finished the collection of short stories! Sort of. I finished some of the stories, wrote just over 50,000 words total, but didn't write 13 different stories. As I predicted, a few of the stories and I got along better than some of the others and I focused more on those ones, because the ideas came easier. Then I re-read my work, and decided I fucking hated it. So I deleted almost as many words as I had written and I'm starting from scratch.
• We hosted Christmas Eve! And it went pretty well, if I do say. I'm quite proud of Jeremy and myself. He got really drunk, I, surprisingly, did not. Also had alcoholic eggnog for the first time ever. It kinda tastes like cough syrup.

Since it's New Years Eve, (you guys it's freaking New Years Eve) I feel like I should write about resolutions or some nonsense, but I don't make resolutions. So here's this instead: 

Storm's Continued Happiness Plan

Live every day being a little kind, being a little selfish, giving a crap, not giving a crap, being angry, being hopeful, wanting more, being happy with what you have, loving some things with all your heart, loving some things just a little bit, not loving some things at all, wanting to change the world in any way possible, wanting to make a difference, accepting that you probably won't make a difference but trying anyway, always doing your best, not really trying at all, being honest with yourself and with others even if it means hurting someone (but don't intentionally hurt others with honesty), and most importantly, live every day like it's your life. Cause it is.

And now, some insight from Jack London that always makes me feel like I should be shouting from mountain tops, or being badass in slow-motion.

I would rather be ashes than dust!

I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot.

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.

I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.

I shall use my time.

Being Less Than Awesome

Had a freak out yesterday. At precisely 8:00 last night, I checked the time on my phone and felt my heart drop. I hadn't written a single word. The goal is to write, according to the graph on the website, 1,667 words a day to total 50,000 words by the end of the month. Thursday and Friday combined I wrote over 6,000, which you would think would mean I was on a super awesome streak. But no. All day yesterday at work, buying groceries, driving home, making dinner, I couldn't think of a single damn thing to write. There are 13 different stories in my so-called 'novel' and I couldn't think one effing word to put in any of them. I am angered.

This is my profile on the site, I don't know if it'll actually take you to it if you don't have an account, but if it does, then keep checking back in to see how I progress. (You'll only see the word count.) If you see the numbers haven't changed in a day or so, then I have obviously given up any hope of ever being a successful author and it would be helpful if you sent me a message, or text, or whatever and said 'hey Storm, don't be such a failure. you're making the rest of us humans look bad to any possible alien invaders.' (It's a thing.)

Today's goal is going to be small. Today's goal is 100 words. I've exceeded my goal for the first two days, and since yesterday was such a disgrace (I am very disappointed in myself.) I'm going to tone it down a bit, and try for mediocrity instead of excellence. It's a sad thing when you have to tone down your awesomness, but when the awesomeness isn't coming then you must accept your temporary less-than-awesomness.

Such is my life.

In much brighter news, my last day of work is the 17th. I'll be moving on to other things. Not the library yet, but the library is taking forever. I'll wait that long, and gladly, but in the meantime I'm going to start doing things to better my life. Step one is leaving a part-time job. Step two to be determined.

I made cinnamon coffee bread this morning. That's the end of that story.

Tuesday!

I just woke up from a nap on the loveseat in my library. It was awesome. I opened my bleary eyes after a natural hour and immediately my gaze upon my rows of books. I wish I could properly convey how happy books make me, so that you would better understand the joyful, relaxed feeling that washed over me. It's also been one of the few times I've taken a nap and it hasn't somehow lasted four hours. Every time I try to rest for a bit after work, I drift off with the intent of it only being for half an hour at most. Then I wake up, feel warm and snuggly but also a little chilled, and burrow further into my blanket and pillow. Being cold always makes me sleepy, which I've recently discovered is a response not many people have. Maybe it's my body trying to accept death. Oh god, maybe it's my body trying to accept death! My body is trying to kill me!

Today at work it was brought to my attention that my supervisors received a reference form to fill out for me from the library, which yes I've still been interviewing for. I was going to mention something to these supervisors, specifically the store manager (who I actually thought was the only person I had to tell directly, but I suppose not?) when I had something more concrete from the library. As it is, a position will more likely be open in January, or sometime shortly after the new year. (This one seems more definite than before.) But since it won't be until January I didn't feel compelled to talk to people at work yet. Then Sunday evening I got a text from one of the other references I used telling me she had gotten a reference form so I decided I would ask at work if they gotten one yet. Before I did, a coworker mentioned to me that one of the supervisors had asked him if he knew anything about me getting a job somewhere else. He did not. Which was true because I hadn't gotten a job somewhere else. This is how I learned that they had received the reference form, and not because a supervisor had asked me. I'm a little irritated about this.

Fair, I should have mentioned to them that a letter would be coming. In my defense I went in to the library Wednesday and since the position wouldn't be open until January I didn't see the need to say anything yet, because again I was waiting for something more definite from the library. Additionally, I was under the impression that I only had to give two weeks notice, not two months (more or less) so even the position would be available this time next month, I would still have no obligation to say anything yet. What I'm irritated about is the way they received this new information and how they responded to it. Instead of directly asking me, calling me when the letter arrived saying 'hey Storm, this letter came is there anything you want to discuss?' to which I could have said, 'oh yes, I've been looking for a new job and it won't be available until after the holidays' they discussed it amongst themselves first. Then discussed it with other employees second. And only discussed it with me third, when I brought it to their attention.

If you are going to enquire about an individuals continued employment, then speak directly to the individual in question. Do not question her coworkers in some kind of lazy, half-assed interrogation so that you can, I assume, have some kind of ammunition against her when she does come to you with her two weeks notice. This feels like it was handled very poorly, and very unprofessionally. If I had known in any way that this is how this news was going to be received, I would not have used the reference. I would have found someone else who would have handled the situation better. Someone who, instead of making me feel like I was some kind of criminal for wanting to better myself and my financial situation, would have cheered on my success and encouraged my endeavours, regardless of whether I did not tell them two months in advance that I may possibly have a new job. I will learn from this experience and in the future, I will not make the same mistake.

A few days ago I shared a short post showing off my terrific new haircut and color. I'm crazy about it. Absolutely crazy about it. The color I'm not overly concerned with but it is autumn and it needed to be darker. Honey blonde wouldn't have been bad, but sometimes when I go for a change, I just go big. Really that's the only way to go. So I went from sun-bleach blonde (though it was from a bottle, and not actually bleached, just very light blonde) and almost two feet long (no joke) to medium (read mousy) brown and approximately ten inches from root to tip. You guys, it feels amazing. Every morning I wake up and it looks awful cause there's no way to sleep to keep it from getting out of control, and I look in the mirror before my shower and I think 'good lord, what did you do?' and then I remember, 'oh yeah, I hacked off my hair and died it the color of mud.'

I love it so much. It's still long enough that I can curl it, I can flip it, I can just throw some leave in conditioner in it and let it do it's thing. It's naturally wavy, how terrific is that? None of this super straight, or spirally curly crap. Just a happy medium. You could never see it when it was longer because it's insanely thick and the weight of it just pulled out the wave out. You could see at the ends though, where it kind of curled, that it was trying. Oh god was it trying. But it just couldn't do it. So I helped it out a little. I seriously love it so much. I keep wanting to take pictures of it, cause I'm so proud of how it looks. It's still a little dry, because I've destroyed it recently with constant coloring and not enough conditioning, but it's soft and fluffy and still has the waves. If I let it air dry, I get little spiral curls at the base of my neck. They're super cute. I'm sincerely in love with my hair.

Since my hair was over ten inches, I'm going to donate it. Except I wanted to do it as a selfless act and there's no real way to do that because people keep asking me if I donated it. I want to say no, but then I like when people think I'm a good person, so I say yes. Of course. Also, Locks of Love gives you the option of being recognized for your good deed of giving a little boy or girl a sweet head of hair, and they make it seem like you would be considered a bad person for not wanting to be recognized. So when I get paid tomorrow I'm going to mail my hair to Locks of Love, and have them recognize my charitable acts. Sometimes things you do to feel good about yourself have to be done publicly. (That's not true, but I do like being recognized positively because I'm selfish and needy. Who isn't sometimes?)

Bold Moves continued (short post)

I had this done recently. I wanted a change. So I made a change.

Also, the appointment went extremely well. On the other hand, I have to go to another appointment. Sometimes I worry they're just stringing me along but then I remember how fantastic life will be if everything continues to go well with this. So I shut the hell up and wait patiently.

Off For the Weekend

Got a call yesterday about an appointment that I've trying to schedule for the past three or four months, approximately. They have an opening Wednesday and since I've been waiting as long as I have I went ahead and made the appointment, which was stupid on my part because I hadn't gotten my schedule yet. Yesterday was Thursday, by the way, in case you weren't there for it. So with three days left in the work week I still didn't know when I might be free the very next week. This is how it works though. The schedule generally gets sent out on Thursdays, so by mid afternoon that day I usually know if I'm able to make plans for Saturday night cause I'll know if I'm off on Sunday or not. Or when I can make plans at all for the following week. But since I hadn't received my schedule yet, and since I had been off the past three Wednesdays (or more), I went ahead and set the appointment for Wednesday morning at 9:15.

Guess what showed up in my inbox at precisely 2:01 in the morning?

Next weeks work schedule.

Guess who works Wednesday morning?

Storm does.

So now I have to call and see how the long everything will take, so I can see if I can go to lunch an hour early (I work 5-2), and hope that I can make it downtown and back and that everything goes well within an hour. It has to be less than hour actually, cause I have to be back at work before the hour is up.

Of course I would attempt to make plans to better my life and the universe would shit on them. Because the universe secretly, and sometimes not at all secretly, hates all of us and will do everything it possibly can to destroy us. The universe is a mean bitch and it is not to be trusted.

Today's bold move will come with photos, but later in the day. (I'm very excited about it.) Now I have to pretend I'm packing clothes for a trip. By pretend I mean make a sincere effort, but end up just throwing whatever I think doesn't make me look like a chubby girl in a suitcase. We're going to my brother's today after Jeremy gets out of work and his wife is super thin and always has good skin and it makes me angry/sad to stand next to her. To be fair, she works out and eats well, so she's earned it. Meanwhile I eat whatever's in reach, or easiest to make, and maybe intentionally exercise about twice a week. Which explains my chubbiness and my bad skin. Who has acne at twenty-four? It's sad really.

You know that feeling when you look in the mirror and see all of your flaws and then you go out in public and you think that everyone else can see them too and is disgusted by them? That's me. Two-four-seven. Every time I come in contact with another person, I am always acutely aware of how I look. Frizzy hair, pudgey midsection, stupid little acne spots all up on my forehead, dark circles under my eyes and not from lack of sleep just the awesomness of having sinus problems, my bangs doing that stupid thing where they're kind of wavy/curly but still trying to straighten themselves out so it just looks like I slept on that section of hair alone even though I washed my hair that morning. So many little flaws that up close look like a lot of little flaws but far away... look like one big flaw. Being near pretty, fit girls always makes me hate myself a little bit more. Being near pretty, fit, and smart girls always makes me want to punch god in the throat. That fucker has got a lot of nerve. It isn't enough that they're pretty? They have to be smart too? Come on man, give some of us a break. You're leaving me with nothing but my sense of humor. Do you know how many people actually get my humor? Cause I do and that number is not high. Not high at all.

Now I don't think I'm absolutely hideous to behold or anything, I'm not like the Elephant Man where people would shrink away in horror, but sometimes I do get so down on myself that if people ever did I wouldn't hold it against them. I'd be like, yeah that makes sense. But this is why pretty girls should only be pretty. I'm very intelligent, I had to be cause I'm not exactly a beauty but that's okay because again, I'm very intelligent and since my humor doesn't really get through to people, I don't have much else to impress and astound the masses. So I need the hot chicks to tone down their intelligence. They're making it impossible for me to be seen and heard.

This is all coming from a week full of smacks in the face from reality. I had that moment where you look at a group of people and realize they've just been talking about you but you don't know if it was positive or negative and then you immediately look away and they start laughing and it's really hard not to think they're laughing at you. I seem to have gained weight but my scale doesn't show it, my clothes just make me look like a sausage. The best smack in the face though, and by the way this is the most sure-fire way to totally annihilate a girls confidence if you're in the market for that, was yesterday at work when the other short, blonde girl was referred to as the hot one. It wasn't a side by side comparison or anything, because I would've lost anyway, but I was nearby and someone was looking for the other girl (the hot one) and someone else said, she's the tiny hot blonde. To be fair though, I suppose I could be the chubby hot blonde but nobody says it because they'd still be calling me chubby. Sometimes I really hate all of existence.

Except Jeremy.

"Whenever I would say, 'kill all humans' I'd always think, 'except one.'" That's a little Futurama for you. Enjoy that.

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.

It's Tuesday, So I Wrote a Short Blog

Days when I work at 5 am, no matter how late I work till, I always feel like such a bum when I get home and I realize it's not even 3 yet but I'm already wearing my lazy clothes. And I always want to take a nap. Cause I don't get enough sleep the night before an early start so I continue the cycle by taking a nap and then not being able to get to sleep that night. It's vicious.

I love the crap out of Rock Of Ages. I prefer the movie cast recording to the Broadway cast but only because the movie wasn't as over the top with the emoting. The Broadway cast seem to think that the music and story line aren't cheesy enough so they just really drive it home. Also, the Broadway version's Stacee Jaxx sounds like a cross between Danny Zuko and a washed out jock who manages a dealership but doesn't own it. I like Tom Cruise as Stacee Jaxx better. Plus, who knew he had such a glam metal set of pipes? Super excited to own that DVD.

Jeremy's going out of town for a few days, leaving tonight. This will be the first time I've spent the night alone in this apartment since he worked at the hospital and he was doing overnights, and even then he was still home in the morning. I actually won't see him at all until Sunday, or is it Monday? He'll be back next week sometime. I'm sad. I like him. He's nice to have around.

I work while he's away. Like, I've been working since last Thursday and my next day off isn't until Friday. BUT, I have two days off in a row! That's crazy! That never happens. I hear rumours though that for some people this is actually totally normal. Is this true? Two days off in a row is a thing? What a world.