More than meets the I

I have been terribly unfair.

I received an email from my mother this morning. "I read your blog -- ALL of it," it says. I have used this blog as a space to vent many a time; it seems that a public journal open for all to see is not the best place for it. I see you nodding your head knowingly, Allan.

She wasn't happy, which is understandable. This led me to go back through and reread all of my blog entries, and I suddenly realized I have made my family out to be monsters. I can delete the old posts, so that these terrible portraits of my folks will not be made available to future folks who want to dig through my archives, but the damage has been done, and I can't undo it.

I think part of the problem is that in writing these entries, I always had a bed of affection cushioning (I thought) the disparaging things I said. This unfortunately does not come through at all, and I didn't realize that until just now.

For instance, my father. Certainly haven't had much nice to say about him, have I? But when I write, I have a composite image of the man in my head that I have only just remembered no one else knows. This same man held me until I stopped crying when I received a blow to the head as a child. He drove me and my violin to countless orchestra events, and even sat through several of my early concerts, which is REALLY saying something. He, on more than one occasion, talked Mom into bringing the kids along on a vacation she had planned for just the two of them, so that we might join in the fun. He surprised me with tickets to Beauty and the Beast at Gammage auditorium, a few short months after finishing performing in an amateur version myself. He rescued me and my car, my Miata, countless times (the Miata which, by the way, was my parents' greatest and most unexpected Christmas gift to me ever). When the battery died, he came to help me get a new one. When the fan belt snapped, he drove to come rescue me and take me home. When I got into a slight accident he cleaned the scratches off the front until you couldn't tell anything had happened. He even cleaned the dribbles of his daughter's alcohol-saturated vomit off the side of the car, from a night I'd say I'd care not to remember 'cept I already don't. I think I may have broken his heart the first time something went wrong with that car (a flat tire) and I called Cliff to come rescue me instead of him. My Daddoo, who gave me so much, often thanklessly; who sat beside me for three days driving from Atlanta to Phoenix, telling me stories of antics long gone. Daddoo, who offered me the chance to come home and put my life back in order, unbenknownst to my mother, in the first place.

And Price. Again, he and I disagree on most anything that moves and several things that don't, but for all that he's a decent kid. On occasion he would spontaneously clean the whole house to make Mom happy. We would watch "Family Guy" together at night after the folks went to bed, and I would have to shush him because he laughed so loudly. I remember taking him to Game Works one night with several of my friends before I moved away from Phoenix the first time, and we all traded "first kiss" stories, and at first he refused (being almost ten years younger than everyone else) but then bravely piped up and told us about the first time he kissed a girl, in the girls' bathroom no less. :) Sweet little Price quoting the movie "Top Gun" (imagine "I feel the need -- the need for speed!" being delivered by a 5-year-old redhead's voice) while playing the game version on the Nintendo. Price cheerleading me while I beat the boss of Sonic the Hedgehog 2. My favorite memory: we were at the beach some year; the kid had not outgrown me yet. We grab a football and go down to the ocean; we throw it back and forth, farther and farther as it gets darker outside; we throw with worse and worse aim until we are both soaked to the bone from having to dive in the water to retrieve the ball and we aren't even bothering to avoid the waves; Price tries to leap sideways in waist-deep water for a cinematic catch and misses most every time. The two of us trudge up the hill back to the condo and laugh as the folks gape at our dishevelled appearance.

Even the love and respect I feel for my mother hasn't come through on here, has it? Reading back over these entries, instead of it seeming like Mom is one of my best buds like I thought it did, it just seems like she's the one I bitched about least. Mom, who has always been one of my closest buddies and biggest champions. I try to be her best friend and end up hurting her worse than anyone whom I rail against. I'm not going to list favorite memories with my mom because there's no way I can choose from so many. (Well -- the day we went to the art museum and then chased the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile deserves to be mentioned, but beyond that I can't choose.)

Right now, I can't think of all my favorite memories with my mother, because images of the times I've hurt her keep popping up in my head. I will not list those, though they, too, are many, and I am damn sorry for that, too. I keep thinking I'm past the age of fucking up, that I'm grown up to the point where we can comfortably be best buds and let bygones be bygones, and then I pull the rug out again. What is wrong with me?

I AM grateful for the chance to get my life back together. I don't know where I'd be today had I not been given that opportunity, but I have a feeling it wouldn't be pretty. My debt would have grown rather than decreased. I wouldn't have studied ASL, wouldn't have had the chance to learn belly dance with some of the most well-known dancers out there, wouldn't have had the chance to make old folks smile with a heartfelt "Silent Night." I wouldn't have seen Rachel, Chad, Dr. Temme, Cynthia, Wynter. I wouldn't have my Cliff back in my life. I wouldn't have laughed with Mom as we put out the Christmas decorations to the warbling sounds of Mannheim Steamroller and had heartfelt chats with Price at YCs Mongolian BBQ. Would I still be selling perfumes to Paris Hilton wannabes? Would I be making anything of myself?

I have been a shit. I constantly complained about being stuck with my family again, but without them I would be nowhere right now. Paradoxically, moving back in with my parents helped me to grow as much as I have, and may have been the only thing that could have made that possible. It was tough on me. It was tough on them, too. But in rereading everything I have written over the past few months, I realize that I have really been an asshole, and I'm sorry.

Mom, I know this doesn't help much, but I thought it fitting that a public apology be given here, where the damage was done in the first place. I am truly sorry. I love you and Dad and Price; I am grateful though it seems that no one would know it, and goddamn I would love to stop fucking up and hurting you. Despite my momentary frustrations I shouldn't have used a public site to vent like this. I'm sorry everyone else, too; I painted a poor snippet of a picture, and gave none of you the opportunity to see the whole thing.

I keep turning out to be an asshole! I really need to quit that. *sigh*

One year ago, I was in Atlanta, Georgia.

One year ago, I was witnessing the swan song of a nearly-three-year relationship, with another man holding my hand during the denouement.

One year ago, I was peddling makeup for a living, and hating it. I was preparing to move into a new apartment, where I wouldn't be able to escape the dreaded makeup job, since I wouldn't have roommates.

One year ago I missed Kate's wedding. (Happy anniversary, Kate n' Ben; you will always be two of my favorite people, and I'm sorry I wasn't there a year ago to see you speak your vows to each other. If it makes you feel any better, so far I've missed all of my friends' weddings. I suck. :-\)

One year ago I despaired of climbing out of my drudgery.

***

Movie-montage:
Vince climbs on the plane to Israel, ending our relationship.
Mom comes to visit; we head to the beach with the boys, and I am invited back home.
I recontact Cliff; the rest there is history (and history-in-the-making). :)

A few shots in particular must be included: Mom and I hugging, laughing, crying, with a dusty cat struggling not to be crushed between us. Dad shaking Cliff's hand: "You're a class act." Price posing with his new pickup truck.

Seeing Cliff at Xtreme Bean (Gold Bar that was). That first trembling, accidental touch after years of assuming we'd never see each other again.

The "first" kiss.

I think this montage is being overlaid with one of those time-lapse films of a flower blooming. Or, I suppose, given the theme of this page in the first place, a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. I have grown by so many leaps and bounds this past year I can't count them all. I feel radically different than I did then. I have real confidence, not look-at-my-boobs, old-men-like-me-so-I-must-be-doing-something-right confidence, but the REAL kind that says "I have brains and beauty and I just kick ass all over the place." I'm not afraid like I used to be. I communicate better. And I make a mean cheesecake. :) And you know what, this all feels GREAT.

Thanks for being here. It's always nicer having friends along. :-D

I suddenly remembered last night that I have always been a Virgo.

On the rare occasions in my childhood where I was allowed a sugary cereal (it was nothing but Chex and Cheerios for me growing up, and looking back I'm glad), I had a very particular system for the consumption of said cereal. Let us take Lucky Charms, for example. Arguably, every little marshmallowy bit of nothing in that box tasted exactly the same as all the others, but I would always eat every single one of a type of marshmallow before moving on to the others, in descending order of quantity. So, I would take my best guess at whether I had more Green Clovers or Blue Diamonds and munch accordingly, and it always put me out should I find a Purple Moon hiding under one of the actual cereal bits when I had supposed I was done with them already.

Sometimes I wonder how Cliff puts up with me.



***

In other news, work = super.

It's an office of a publishing company, and they all seem like the best of friends there. Beyond that, they made ME feel like I was one of this group of BFFs from the minute I walked in. What a nice change from the other couple of assignments they've thrown me at since I've been out here. I'll be there for a month or so, barring unforeseen changes; things are on the up-and-up.

I splurged on myself (well -- with Cliff's help) tonight for the first time in a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long time. I attended the preliminaries of the Belly Dancer of the Year Pageant (no, I didn't win, but we'll see about next year). :-D My teacher, Sandra, gave a fabulous performance that clearly (to me, anyway) kicked the asses of everyone else I saw. And I picked up a couple of items that make me feel right close to official, a new veil/skirt set among other things, and I have branched out into color! :-D Yay!

So, hooray for everything; I'm sure I'll post about something interesting like wrestling again soon. :)

I wasn't really going to lie on my resume, jeez. That's what the winky face ;-) is for. Cause it's a joke, see?

But Christian, thanks for the advice; very well written and much appreciated. I've always interviewed well (I am damn good at a. confidence and b. bullshitting); it's just getting the interviews in the first place that's the problem.

But like I said, work tomorrow, happy for now. :)

I figured y'all would want to know, since you die-hards have been putting up with my whining about it this long. ;)

My temp agency seems (so far) like it has finally come through. Now, the last time they "came through" it was quasi-disastrous ("cold call these people and sell them our stuff that you know almost nothing about!" NO THANK YOU) but this time they promise no phones, just admin work. And a paycheck. Yes, I shall kiss that paycheck when it joins its few -- oh so few, now -- new friends in my bank account.

So, work for now, and in the meantime some other places might decide they like me too, eh? Yes? Please? Maybe?

I'm feeling a bit better today. The phone interview I had went really well; unfortunately they wanted someone with more experience for that particular position, though they will keep me in mind should something open up that I have a bit more background in. Which would be all well and good if something like that opened up, y'know, today. Oh, and thanks for the suggestion, Allan. They want more experience too, though.

*sigh*

However, something new and potentially exciting has opened up at [company where my awesome boyfriend works], where he happens to know the people involved, so I am crossing all my fingers and toes for this one.

I was reflecting yesterday on the fact that I always seem to go through a period of joblessness when I move somewhere new. When I moved to Chicago, I was supposed to have a job lined up for me at a startupish tea company. They seemed very enthusiastic about me, everything was great, until I got there and they said "okay you can be a barista" (they sold more coffee than tea, it seemed) "for some unspecified period of time and then we'll see." Uh-uh. Then I got the job at Washington Mutual, but there was a period of nearly a month in there where I was staring blankly at the walls every day.

Then, Atlanta. I was stilll working for WaMu, and had the transfer all in place. Then I actually got down there, and the manager of the branch I'd been sent to was just slimy. Used car salesman slimy. Convince people they need things they don't need slimy, scare them into it if you have to slimy. And wanted me to be the same way. I couldn't take it, so I quit. In retrospect, I kinda wish I'd been able to work something out so that I stayed with the bank but got away from the branch, but I don't think they would have let me do that, and I really couldn't stomach the ethics at that branch long enough to tough it out. So I spent three weeks-ish unemployed until I ended up at Starbucks. Starbucks, because it was safe, and I knew they would hire me. Starbucks, because even though I was taking a nose dive as far as pay was concerned -- not to mention self esteem -- at least it was a job. Starbucks, because I was too afraid to hold out for anything better.

Now I'm here, going through the same thing. And it's about time for this period of unemployment to be up, if the pattern holds. But then again, for the first time I am willing -- and able, thanks to Cliff, oh thank you Cliff -- to hold out for something better. Something where my brain will be useful, where I don't have to look in the mirror and wonder what the fuck is wrong with my life. Something I'll be proud of instead of a position where I cringe inside every time I have to admit what I do.

Yep. It's about time.

Still no job.

Starting to freak out.

:-\

Y'know what's fun? Laughing so hard that your face hurts.

I used to do that a lot more than I do now. I remember moments over at Wynter's house (most of the best moments of my adolescent years were spent at Wynter's house), giggling at something, laughing more at something else, and then finally falling over uproariously at nothing at all. Those wonderful times when you have to press the palms of your hands against your cheeks to stop the pain, and the laughter dwindles and you let out that relieved sigh, which of course starts you up all over again.

Why don't we find causes to laugh like that as adults? There are the occasional marijuana moments, of course, since that is the nature of the thing (at least to me; to other people it is an excuse for philosophy, or just a reason to eat junk food and fall asleep). Cliff makes me laugh like that sometimes; it's part of the reason I love him so much. Heidi, too. But it's a lot more rare than it used to be. I find that kinda sad.

I was reminded of this two nights ago, when Kate came over. We went to a coffee shop and played Trivial Pursuit, and at one point we were all roaring at something or other, and Kate actually had tears streaming out of her beautiful eyes (in a good way, I swear!). I think we all need that kind of therapy, a lot more often than we get it. I know too many people that just don't laugh enough.

I definitely think it's at least partially an attitude thing. Sometimes you just have to look for things that will make you laugh, or seek out people that tickle your funny bone. It's a choice to do so, and everyone needs to make that choice more often. In fact, that is your assignment. You weren't expecting homework when you dropped by this page today, were you? In any case, I charge you to go find a reason to laugh good and long and hard -- a movie, a friend, whatever floats your boat. Just go do it. You need to. Trust me. Laugh until you have a stitch in your side and your face is sore, and then giggle just a bit more. You'll thank me.

To all aspiring authors:

My buddy Chad has started a publishing company for new authors. I think that's pretty damn cool. Check it out at IgnotaPub.com. (There's a permanent link off to your right there, if you should need to find it in the future.)

He's also published his first book, When Autumn Has Gone. Impressive, non? More details on his site; go and see!

I had a phone interview today.

It was not with [company], but instead with a different company, which is almost as cool, where my friend Chris works. He ever so kindly beat them into submission and got me aforementioned interview, and things seem to be going well so far. I have been passed along to management after a very successful chat with the recruiter, and we shall see what we shall see. If I get this, it will be the most challenging position I've ever had (in theory at least) and I look forward to the opportunity to finally start kicking some real ass. :)

In other news, my lovely Kate graced us with her presence last night, for fun, frolic, and goofy answers to goofy Trivial Pursuit questions. :-D Kate has left me in the dust as far as belly dancing goes (she would never admit this, but I can only hope to be as amazing as she has become). With any luck I'll be catching up soon. Though I missed class on Monday, due to crappy directions, tonight I think I can find it, and hopefully tomorrow I won't be able to move. But it's a good hurt. :)

Sunday is Tribal Fest 6, and Kate and I shall be attending. It promises to be loads of fun ... and makes me seriously wish I had a job at this point, not that I didn't wish this already, so I could throw dollars at belly dance accoutrements in better conscience. I might treat myself to just a little something; that's okay, right? :-D

Send just a few more good vibes my way, would you? :)

Well, I have bitten the bullet. *chomp*

I have sexified my resume as much as I can, and have taken the fateful step of giving it to Cliff so that he may pass it along to [company] that I would [sob with joy] to be given a [job] with.

These past two days I was finally assigned a job through my temp agency. My very helpful, wonderful temp agency, who assured me that my smarts and scores would of course land me an interesting, challenging, well-paying position once I arrived in California.

What am I doing? I am sitting at a very nice desk, in front of a computer, looking out the window at a very nice day. My job is to answer phones. The phone has rung twice. Including yesterday and today. I am here for crapteen dollars an hour doing exactly nothing. Oh, I shouldn't complain, because crapteen dollars an hour is better than noteen dollars an hour, but goddamn! (Thankfully it is ONLY for yesterday and today. Course, that means I am back to noteen dollars an hour as of Monday. *sigh*)

So this is why I am pursuing bigger and better things, finally. "You can't win if you don't play" and all that. The easy road is just no fun anymore. This brain has got to be good for something, and dammit, it's time people realized that. Wish me luck, please.

***

In other news, the belly dancing begins anew on Monday, with Sandra now (www.raks-sharki.com). She seems lovely, if a bit more traditional than I would personally like to lean. Hopefully I will start performing quite soon; I must catch up to my darling friend Kate, who has recently been accepted into a professional troupe! Along these lines, Cliff and I are beginning a loft project this weekend; the room will be turned into a lovely dance space cum work space cum lounging area. I can't wait; it sounds like it's going to turn out beautifully. Pics are promised.

The awesomeifying MUST continue. It seems Cliff and I are dangerously close to slipping back into the old bad habits (i.e. hanging out with each other is more fun than doing the interesting things that make us awesome separately). Who knew being this in love could be so dangerous? Well, I promise you, gentle reader (or not so gentle; I know you're reading this, Heidi) that the greatness will continue and grow. You'll see.

Starting with getting a job at [company]!

I look like death.

"Ha ha," you say.

No really. Y'know all those depictions of death with the scary glowing red eyes? That's me. Yup. Or maybe I'm just a demon, I don't know, but if I were a demon I'd get kicked out of the Scary Shit Club cause I can't stop fucking SNEEZING. I am the "before" half of the Allegra commercial. 'Cept Allegra doesn't work on me. There is no After. *cries*

It's strange, too, because I have never had allergies like this. I always felt sorry for Vince once the cat showed up and he became Allergen Central, but only now can I officially say I feel his pain. I have been ingesting nonstop Benadryl since I moved here, which mostly works, but leaves me a dehydrated shell of a woman -- and I'm sure I'm giving my ankles cancer or something as a result. If only the natural solutions worked.

Perhaps I should go to my temp agency and convince them I'm so red-eyed because I've been sobbing nonstop over the fact that they won't even return my calls and give me a damn job. Honestly, what is the freakin' problem here? I don't understand how people can choose the stay-at-home life. I am climbing the walls. Today so far I have made fruit mix scones and ginger creme brulée out of sheer boredom. I have belly danced with Rachel Brice and dined with the Googlites, and now I am sitting here wondering if I can hire out the sinister glow of my eyes to light mining tunnels.

Ooh, but then again, my ankles probably have enough cancer as it is.

Temp agency trials:

"Hello, this is Evelyn Cook, may I speak with Melina?"

"Let me see if she's available. What was your name? Yvonne?"

"Evelyn."

"Yvonne. Hold on please."

...

So is this part of the problem or is it the solution? Perhaps they are subtly encouraging me to get a new identity for a new job. Maybe they have positions open in the MOB! Which would of course mean that I shouldn't use my real name, lest they easily find my loved ones and dismember them if I used Helvetica instead of Arial in their death-threat memos.

I wonder if the mob has casual Fridays?

Oh no, I have nothing to bitch about so I guess that means I can stop blogging.

... wait, I'm not on Livejournal. :-D


Still waiting for a job, because my temp agency here is not nearly as helpful as the one back home. I am REALLY REALLY hoping that this will be rectified as of tomorrow because I am slightly sick of not having income.

But I must apologize, because it seems that my presence here has caused my boyfriend to stop updating everyone on his side of things. Having a woman around is detrimental to one's health. Ask your doctor about Gyn-B-Gone!

But, no matter what he says life is wonderful DON'T LISTEN TO HER AAAGHHH LET ME OUT LET ME MMMMFF!

...

Pardon that interruption.

As I was saying, everything is wonderful and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Or else. >:-D