Tuesday, January 29, 2008

UNrejection, plus some more rejection, for a significantly lame start to my week:

So, I pouted most of last night, until my roommate and I decided to clean up the kitchen and then have happy-fun-bonding time. I went to bed and crashed pretty early on, which is good. At apparently 12:30, I received a call from Mr. C, saying he had reconsidered what he said. Our "relationship" is still narrowly defined, but apparently he thinks he was silly to end it. I was rather incoherent and have no idea what my response to that was.

I went to work this morning and was asking the HR Gen. all sorts of questions about what would happen to my 401k and my benefits, etc, if I were to leave (get this awesome job I've been so obsessed with) and during this conversation I checked my personal e-mail and discovered that... I did not get the job. Not getting the job has kind of broken my heart. My idealism! My Naivety! My optimism! SHATTERED. Now I have no good reason to quit my current job until the end of March, no higher wages, no travel to Asia, and no awesome benefits. I also have to go through all the trouble of writing another dozen cover letters and new objective statements and I have to go through more interviews (if I get that far) and I'm sad.

Work today was busy. Really busy. And not only that, people were a huge pain in the ass. I was happy to finally shut the doors - trust me. I did get out on time, and I decided that on a day like this I should not sit around at home and mope. Generally Tuesdays are my super boring nights, but I decided I would call really nice guy - not to fix my computer - but to hang out. Super nice guy is going to be hanging out with his girlfriend and her friends tonight. I guess it makes sense that nice guys should have girlfriends. It made me feel kind of awkward, even though I hadn't had any real intentions.

After that, I decided I'd make one more call. I called Mr. M who seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, hoping maybe that he is just being reserved and that he doesn't think I'm a freak or something. I guess I'll find out when he calls me back. If he calls me back.

I'm breaking the rules of the game again. I shouldn't call, I should wait for guys to call me. Don't guys hate these rules as much as girls do? Do other people hate dating as much as I do or am I just weird? I would be really surprised if I were weird in this situation.

The Rules of "The Game":
1. Don't be available (except maybe once a week - your choice)
2. Don't call him, let him call you
3. Don't act as though you like him, especially if you do
4. Don't give up too much too soon
5. Don't do nice things for him and spoil him
6. Don't always answer when he calls and don't tell him why
7. Do stomp on his balls

Okay - that last one is a lie, but it was totally believable, right? The rules suck. These are the kinds of rules you find in self help books for women who date assholes or can't figure out dating at all. I've never bought myself a self help book, but my roommate has given me two. It's not a subtle hint.

What are the rules for guys?

Monday, January 28, 2008

Rejection = Opposite of Fun

Last night I stayed up too late for no good reason, leaving me tired this morning and not altogether thrilled with having to go to work. I arrived almost 15 minutes late due to the treacherous nature of the walk and I really didn't care that I was late. Things were going fine until lunch however. At lunch I had no book and had to find some other way to amuse myself. I decided to text Mr. C and ask if he wanted to hang out. His response totally ruined my day because it defined our relationship in very narrow terms and it also kind of ended it. I won't get into details on the matter, but it turns out that he is pretty indifferent about me at this point and that I should 'say hi' if I see him, but that's about it. I probably shouldn't be upset by this, since we weren't dating or anything, but I got a little attached and now I have to deal with the equivalent of a break-up in the realm of what my former roommate Mr. D would call "Um-Friends." I also checked to see if there were still tickets for the Moscow Circus which I wanted to go to with my friend Miss B, but they are sold out! Apparently one can choose to wait in line to see if they'll get seated, but if that means waiting outside, I don't know if I'm hardcore enough. That's right, in my one hour lunch break I had the equivalent of a minor break-up and found out that I probably won't be going to the circus either! My mood for the rest of the day has been a bit morose.

I guess the only good part was getting an e-mail from the really nice guy detailing his available time and wanting to make some solid plans. I should do that this week, because it could be just the kind of thing I need.

Usually this is full of what I do and what I see, but perhaps I'll get a little deeper this time:

"The Game" as dating is called, sucks. I really despise dating because I apparently do it all wrong and I even get dumped by people I'm not really dating. I think that the way one is supposed to behave in dating is rather counter-intuitive. The point of dating, I think, is to find someone you are compatible with, someone you like to be around, and to build up to a relationship so you can spend more time with that person. How one is actually supposed to build up to that though, according to some sources, is to pretend like you aren't interested at all and to make people wait around, etc. I find it all to be frustrating and silly and I'd kind of like someone to just say, "I like you" and be able to reply similarly.

I guess though, when that has happened, I've been uninterested.

In short: Dating sucks. I suck. And I should stop blogging since I sound sort of pathetic.

I'll be back when I have something less depressing to say.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Oh, the troubles I've seen. And caused.

My life tends to be a decent balance of great and, well, terrible ideas, actions, and consequences. I like to think that it may be a little more positive than negative but some weekends leave me wondering.

Friday was a happy and lovely day for me, I don't know why. I was feeling pretty happy and I was quite cheerful all day. Work was work, and I am really aching to move on. I did get a nice offer from a nice guy to look into my computer troubles. He always seems to be making these shy attempts at flirting, so after I did the "Oh, you really don't have to" line and he did the nice, "but I offered" line, I offered to buy him lunch in return. He seems like a super nice guy, so it should be pleasant if it comes to fruition.

After work I went home and relaxed for a little while before going to the benefit. The benefit was wonderful - there were tons of people and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Mr. BB was the host and he is such a character. He is also EVERYWHERE! I have seen him in plays, he works at least a couple jobs, and I have seen him out and about having fun now and then as well. I just have to assume he doesn't sleep. I really enjoyed talking with Mrs. S at the benefit - I've really enjoyed talking with her in the past months, and even more so in this last month. Initially I was following Miss B around, as she was one of two people I really knew there, but eventually I started seeing other people I knew as well. I spent a good bit of time sitting with Hot Lawyer and his Beautiful Girlfriend who also went to law school. She's definitely one of those people with whom a girl like me could never even hope to compete, so the best thing to do is just be friends with a person with so many great qualities. I was really enjoying hanging out with Mr. HL and Miss BG until Mr. S started hanging around me. There's nothing really wrong with Mr. S. I'm just annoyed that he chooses to hang around when it is convenient for him and that he never put in any effort at all during our brief attempt at dating. I rather purposefully try to avoid spending time with him now, lest he try to pull me back in to that quasi-dating state with his never calling and pretending like we've never spoken intimately in our lives. I'll admit that I didn't run around telling everyone in the world that we were involved either - and thank goodness for that because it was so short lived! I helped Mrs. S with some cleaning up and then left the benefit for some of the usual haunts.

I went to my favorite hot spot and ran into Miss R and Mr. K along with some friends of Miss R. I ran with that crowd for a while, until going to my next favorite hot spot where I found Miss E and Mr. J as well as Mr. C (which comes as no surprise). The crowd waxed and waned, so I attempted to head back to the fave as well as forcing myself to go into the Imperial - one of my least favorites of late. I used to really enjoy going there to dance, but I just can't seem to bear the loud terrible music and the crowds. During my very brief time at the Imperial, Miss B and I had to try to pry some drunk redneck away from Mr. C. Things were getting very confrontational - something about drunk redneck spitting on Mr. C's back... Miss B and I stepped in between and she called over one of the bouncers. Once I was satisfied that Mr. C wouldn't be murdered by a drunk redneck I tried going back to hot spot #2 only to find it empty. Miss A got a somewhat delayed message detailing the then impending assault and ran over to the Imperial. I walked back over as well and pointed out to Mr. Barfly (he has earned this name for being out everywhere I ever am - this of course says something about me as well) that the drunk redneck was outside with the exiled smokers yelling at the window - this guy was belligerent and obviously just looking for a fight! I went in and said goodbye to Mr. C, maybe hoping he'd want to hang out with me more, and then I walked home. I don't know what befell me that night to make me not enjoy being out and about, but I just had to hope it would go away.

Saturday I accidentally went into work both an hour early and of course the wrong day. There was a misunderstanding. When there was nobody there to let me in, I went to Heritage for some coffee and then wandered back again. I started negotiating with the nail place to get a manicure, and ended up talking with Miss H and working for a few hours so she could get a manicure and then getting one myself. I went and talked with Miss H for another hour after that waiting for my nails to dry completely, then went home and watched Die fetten Jahre sind vorbei or The Edukators, a really fantastic movie with my German celeb crush Daniel Brühl and Julia Jentsch who played Sophie Scholl in the movie of that title about die Wiesse Rose (the resistance group on which I wrote my senior thesis). I braved the weather once again that day to walk to Silverbow for the winter JUMP Film Festival and was really pleased with it. I sat with Miss L and Mr. C and had a chat with Mr. E shortly as well. After that I nearly froze to death walking to the favorite hot spot again so I ordered a whiskey based cocktail in an attempt to warm me up. Mr. M seems to have dropped off the face of the earth and Mr. J is never predictable. I ended up chatting with Mr. JB, some random strangers, and whoever else seemed interesting until Miss E arrived. She and I chatted for a bit until I fell into conversation with a Mr. P with whom I am acquainted. I ended up talking with him for a much longer period of time than I had anticipated, which secretly made me happy for reasons that had nothing to do with him. Terrible, I know, but Mr. S had shown up again and I was happy to be engaged in conversation with someone else if only to prove that I am a very desirable companion, so it's his loss. I missed hanging out more with Mr. C, but I am sure that we'll cross paths again, intentionally or otherwise. We've always had terrible timing so why should things have changed?

Today I am feeling rather terrible - combination of the lurking cold symptoms, being up too late, constantly freezing and thawing in this awful weather, and whiskey I'm sure. I've decided to stay in - having left a message at my place of employment, canceling the day I was actually supposed to work so that I can lie in bed and hate myself for a while. I will probably try to go back to sleep in a bit since my lovely roommate has stopped blasting music. Really though - even though it was one of my favorite bands (Spoon) I was horribly annoyed by having it played at top volume while I was still in bed. I should probably say something, but knowing me, I probably won't.

I'm trying to help an old college friend find a job up here in Juneau. He sent me an e-mail after not having really been in close contact in a couple years, telling me he was interested in Juneau and asking some questions. I have many fond memories of sitting in his room my freshman year and dubbing things virtues or just pondering a number of silly things (all sort of inside jokes). I am pretty sure he'll think I'm silly if I bring back that old habit, but I might do it if he moves here.

Friday, January 25, 2008

How you spend your days is how you spend your life:

That is paraphrasing a quote from a book by Heather Lende of Haines, which was actually a quote from another author, I believe... I can't remember the name. It was in a chapter of her book, If You Lived Here, I'd Know Your Name, and it was about learning that she had something in common with a right leaning journalist for a rival weekly paper.

What I was initially going to title it was something about drinking, how I drink being a metaphor for how I live. Eh. It would have fallen flat and this paraphrase of a quote of a quote sounds so much nicer. Maybe it would have been a comment on how so many small factors affect the outcome when drinking (or just in living).

Anyway, last night I got blackout drunk. Completely by accident. Okay, maybe I've never done this purposefully, but this was about as accidental as it gets. I only had about 3.5 drinks (that I can remember) and I was previously a total lush.

So, Wednesday I was super excited to go to a club meeting - not the usual Wednesday night meeting, but a new meeting for me. Newish, at least. It was at my favorite bar, where I can apparently be found more nights a week than is really healthy (if I were drinking every night).

First though, I went and saw Sweeney Todd with my roommate. The cinematography was aesthetically pleasing (I have a somewhat dark aesthetic taste) and certain parts of the movie were really brilliant, but I didn't like the movie as much as I thought I would. That doesn't mean it was bad - it probably wasn't - it just wasn't as amazing as I had hoped.

After Sweeney Todd, Miss L and I walked over to my favorite bar and began chatting with our many friends and acquaintances. I had initially not intended to drink but for some reason decided that it would be a good idea to have one or two (maybe because someone was missing whom I had hoped to see and someone was talking to some other girl who may or may not be cuter than me). I was drinking greyhounds and after one and a half or two my decision making skills were already compromised enough that I thought drinking a half shot of whiskey and a third greyhound was a good idea. After this amount, I had reached patchy memory phase. I remember bits and pieces: like smoking a hand rolled cigarette with Mr. J, who later wiped a piece of tobacco from my lips (how tender), and tottering home on heels, despite ice and intoxication. In Haines, I had imbibed about 6 or so drinks and remember every detail of the night, here I had 3.5 and could have murdered someone and not known (were I not such a pleasant drunk, that is). It goes to show that it is a number of factors that affect an outcome. Major factor here: 3 pieces of pizza v. half a grapefruit and half a medium bag of movie theater popcorn.

I seriously thought my roommate was going to hate me forever and kick me out of the house today. I had convinced her last night that we should take the car (because I wanted to wear heels) and then I got way to drunk too drive home, we had gone our separate ways, and the car was left parked in that space at Wells Fargo. This morning before I clocked in at work I went to check if the car was still there (I didn't know for sure) and had to move it to avoid getting a ticket. I knew this was bad news, but at least no ticket. Then I go to work and my roommate shows up and knocks on the door and asks where the car is (it's not either of ours, and its owner needed it that day) I search for the key, which I nearly thought I had locked in the car - alas, it was hidden in a tricky pocket within the purse - and give them to her (she's got the flu bad by this point) and she goes to retrieve it and drive it home. I then dreaded going home all day, knowing that as soon as I got home I'd be confronted and most likely lectured. I don't know if it was a mild hangover or if it was merely stress, but I felt terrible all day! It was an accident, it was better than the alternative, I did move the car to avoid ticketing, and so on and so forth - I have no defense that will make my irresponsibility irrelevant. I decided that I'd just have to say something first. I went home after work, paced a bit, and then apologized and declared my irresponsibility as irrefutable and terrible, and hoped that I had punished myself enough. She didn't lecture me at all. Maybe it was due to her weakened and sickly state, maybe it was because of my impassioned speech, or maybe it was because she had never planned on being a bitch and I have the guilt complex of a catholic but without the belief that I'll go to heaven someday. God damn atheism.

Other things to note: I forgot to pay my tab. Luckily I know the bartender and she and her boyfriend took my card home (I trust them enough for that to be a relief). I had forgotten my phone at work (and though I have the ability to go in on my own, it is against policy, so I don't) which meant that I was unreachable and without an alarm. I woke up once at 6:20am, still wearing my coat, as I had given up on untying the string I had tied around the collar. I removed my coat at this point and decided (probably still drunk) to go back to sleep for a few minutes, assuming (drunkenly, I suppose) that I would actually wake up on time. I woke up 15 minutes before I was meant to walk out the door. Brilliant. When I actually got to work, after moving the car and getting a coffee from Heritage, I found my phone with its 5 missed calls and two unread text messages - most likely all from Miss L about the car except for the one from Mr. K telling me that he and Miss R had my card. I was in a rather wretched mood most of the day and I think I have a food allergy for which I had previously developed a tolerance. Yet another reason why this diet and detox thing was a terrible/wonderful idea.

This evening I behaved myself, so well in fact, that I spent the whole evening taking care of my roommate. We also watched a movie - The Negotiator which I liked much more than I had anticipated. Tomorrow is Friday and I think that instead of doing something wild and crazy, I will be well behaved, not drink, and attend a benefit for couple I know. The husband of the pair has been suffering from cancer for years and the medical costs alone must be obscene. I don't know him that well, but I talk to his wife pretty regularly, and I continue to learn more and I find myself becoming invested in their story, their happiness (or sadness), and their struggle to be strong. I learned a bit about how they met the other day, it is a sweet and romantic story - each one of these memories shared makes me really sad that his life will inevitably be cut short.

And, to not end on such a sad note, I received an e-mail today from my friend Mr. S in the Netherlands. I miss him a lot and his messages always brighten my day. I hope I can afford to visit him soon!

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Victory will (possibly) be mine:

When I last cut out, suddenly, I was talking about having a job interview. I had it. Now, talking about it after the fact seems even more likely to jinx me, but I'll do it anyway.

Despite staying out rather late, listening to some local DJs, I managed to wake up on time, primp and groom, and make it to work on time. My interview had been moved to the afternoon which meant that I had a few more hours to be nervous, but it also meant that I'd have a little more time to prepare. And I did. I made lists. I listed three traits that a supervisor might use to describe me, I came up with one fault and a way to put a positive spin on it - I have a hard time asking for help BUT I guess that has everything to do with my incredibly determined nature - HA! I listed questions I should ask them as well. "How would you describe the office atmosphere?" and such things. I researched the organization thoroughly so if they asked me what I knew about them I wouldn't panic and start hyperventilating. If I had to rate myself on this interview, I'd give myself a 9.4 - I mark myself down for perhaps being a bit too good. I nearly creeped myself out with how sincere and dear a person I could portray. It wasn't that any of it was untruthful, but it is that I'm usually the last to admit that I appreciate my parents teaching me to work hard - that stuff makes me feel a little nauseated mostly.

I made it back to work a little late after the interview, I didn't mention it to my supervisor and I avoided the subject with my nosy co-worker. Eventually that nagging loyalty and guilt that I feel got the better of me and I called the HR Generalist (whom I like and who likes me, luckily) to confess to my "adultery" and plead with her to understand why it had to be that way. She understood, said that she'd keep my secret, and wished me luck on the endeavor.

I apparently take two nights off a week, Tuesdays and Sundays. All other nights I am likely to be found doing something other than sitting or lying around my house reading or blogging. This last Tuesday night was no different, but instead of reading or blogging, I spent the evening trying to prepare for a meeting which should have had my full attention several days before. Oops.

Wednesday was another day at work, but luckily I was still quasi-high from the interview induced adrenaline rush. It only happens with good interviews, so I think it is a good sign. That evening I went to my meeting and was disappointed that only my group was there, instead of attractive and slightly mysterious strangers (now turned acquaintances). We had a rather muddled meeting, my fault entirely, but I kept things light, so I imagine people didn't mind all that much. They have already made up their minds about me anyway, proof in how unimpressed they were with the meeting prior and its glorious organization and leadership skills, so I am hesitant to stretch myself too much. After the meeting ended, I stayed around in the company of Miss B and Mr. P, who were playing pool. Miss L stopped by to ask if I could take the car, as she had enjoyed a glass of wine or two, and I agreed that I would and decided to join her and Mr. W at another location.

Miss L and Mr. W went to run an errand and I headed to my favorite bar planning to meet them there. By the time they arrived, perhaps a half hour later, I was already completely engrossed in conversation with one member of Juneau's "elite" or another. I was bouncing back and forth between deep and meaningful conversations with two "gentlemen" that evening. Mr. J, the morose scenester and Mr. M, the underground artiste. Mr. J had a book of Keats to go with his Pabst Blue Ribbon, the boy is juxtaposition personified. I'd use more literary devices to describe him if I didn't think it would make this account any more unbearable to read. Mr. M, however, is down to earth, sincere and, as I've since discovered, obscenely talented. We talked for hours about the grittiest details of our art and the more we talked the more mesmerized we grew. The crowd thinned, though being the official meeting night of a certain "elite" club, the place had been crowded up to the later hours. When Miss R started shooing people from the bar, we gathered coats and walked outside into the forgotten cold, saying our goodbyes and tying up loose ends as we went. I shared a rather lengthy hug with Mr. J as I walked toward the car, Mr. M following. I had been as enthralled with our chat as he had been, but I was still unsure of its actual weight. When I reached the car's location, I was surprised to find no car - not that surprised, I assumed correctly (as ascertained by reading my previously unnoticed text messages) that Miss L had taken it because I was still so engaged when she had wanted to leave. We had one of those tenderly awkward partings, the type of parting that befalls people who have no idea what the other person is thinking but who hope that the other person is thinking the same saccharine thoughts, I suppose. I got a sweet peck on the lips and a lunch date out of the night.

Thursday I was once again in a brilliant mood, this time because I had a lunch date. I have this nostalgia for a time before mine, a time when dating meant going on dates, a time when men opened doors for women and women didn't change the spelling of the word 'women' out of spite. I would like to point out that I am a feminist and that I don't feel any desire to be paid less, have a harder time getting ahead in life, or to be a housewife by profession, but I don't think that men open doors because we are the "weaker sex" who cannot open them ourselves. I think it is merely a nice gesture. Anyway, I had my lunch date and I think that it started pretty well. I started off giddily showing him my stupid post-it note caricatures at work, then I pulled myself together well enough to have a nice normal lunch and conversation. I think the end is when things got iffy - or perhaps I am simply over-analyzing. I always have this tendency to pull out my wallet when the check comes, mostly it is because I don't want whoever I'm with to feel obligated to pay for my meal (see, I'm a feminist) but not thinking about the significance of doing so. It could mean a few things: First, what it actually means, is that I understand that neither of us is rich, and I don't want to burden him with paying if it is not a financially sound decision. Then, there are possible readings of this well intentioned gesture which are not that great. What if it is read as a symbol of platonic feelings? Not that I've made up my mind either way, but I certainly didn't intend to signal that. Anyway, the lunch date ended with a hug and a 'see you later' or something equally lacking in enthusiasm, convincing me for good that I suck at dating.

That night was Open Mic night and I went to my favorite bar again, finding Miss B and Mr. P, along with Mr. A and Miss B's sister sitting at a table toward the back. As I didn't really know many others and since I enjoy Miss B's company, I joined their table, waiting for Mr. J and Mr. M to perform. Some really excited people performed, then some more hesitant people, and then the hostess performed and declared that she would continue until some new musicians stepped forward. Mr. J still hadn't shown up. Mr. M was there, but was occupied with other people or other matters. I had discovered that afternoon the extent of his talent (which makes me a bit embarrassed for my meager talents) and wanted to tell him of this amazing discovery, but immediately felt as though I had done that thing that Miss L tells me I'm not to do - you know - show that I'm interested. That meant that I had blown it completely and that I was one step closer to spinster-hood. I tried to be charming in the company I had, but I felt a little out of place. Miss R never showed up either. When my table left from around me, I stayed, stubbornly, and tried to ignore Mr. S, who had shown up with his co-workers. I did converse with him briefly, but I have to stay strong and not pay him much attention, lest he think he still has a chance with me (lest I allow him to have an undeserved chance with me). I probably seemed like a terrible bitch, sitting one table away from people I knew, refusing to be bubbly and personable. I gave up on Mr. J, Mr. M, Miss R and anyone else whose company I may have hoped for, and I left. Walking out, I ran almost right into Mr. S and chatted for the briefest moment, citing the cold as my reason for hurrying off.

Friday I awoke later than I had intended, but made it to work on time, made it out of work on time, and made it home to pack and leave for Haines on the slow ferry. The slow ferry I was on, the Matanuska had the charm of an Oklahoma mobile home. Our group gathered in the dining area which smelled exactly like an elementary school cafeteria did before parents got super pissed about obesity in children. Eventually I stopped noticing the smell, hoping against all odds, that this didn't mean that I had absorbed it. Haines is beautiful. I am still in awe of its beauty. Juneau looked beautiful when I arrived home today too, something about clear days... Here's an attempt at nature writing in my slightly quirky style: One expects snow covered landscapes to be pristine and sharp white, with stark contrasts between the snow and any peeking soil or jutting rock. This is only the case if one looks at black and white photos, because every morning and every evening, the mountains would glow pink. And in the afternoon sun, the mountains would be golden. And at night the mountains were blue. Also, every building in Haines looked like a cupcake - each one frosted with white sugary looking snow. It felt like being in a giant bowl of mountains, any direction I looked, I'd see mountains: big, soft, round mountains or jagged and angular mountains. The water was calm, punctuated here and there by floating gulls or the playful splashes of marine life. The town was quaint, with hand painted signs and wooden siding. There were barely any cars, so we walked in the streets to avoid falling on the ice. Where the snow had been cleared or where snow had fallen away due to its own weight, one could see that it was stratified. As you can tell the age of a tree by its rings, you could see how many separate snow flurries or downpours there had been by the different layers of snow. Powder under crust under powder and an icy crust again. There had to have been feet of precipitate history on every rooftop. Along roads and around the brewery there were miniature mountains of pure snow - enough to stir up the metaphorical child within me and elicit desires to make snow angels or to just jump in, waist deep. I didn't. As the youngest person in the group, I had to maintain some semblance of dignity to be sure that I could be taken seriously.

The best part of the Haines trip was certainly the view, the second best part was the purpose for being there itself, and the third best part was having a fun Saturday night in the local bars. I went out with the others of the "young" faction and we spent some time at the Fogcutter bar, which was packed full of snow-mobilers, as there had been a major race earlier that day. I had just started drinking again (first drinks since New Year's Eve) and I was disappointed to note that my tolerance had not gone down. That said, Mr. E and I stayed out the latest of the group, laughing over our beers and our recollections of University life. Despite having spent very little time together while we attended University, we found that we had many similar memories and that we have more in common than we'd initially expected.

I have no real complaints about life right now - I just hope that I get this job (cross your fingers, please) and that I learn how to function in the dating world in time to avoid being called an old maid. I doubt there is a place in Juneau for 40-something-and-fabulous Sex and the City archetypes, so I'd just have to collect cats and learn to knit.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Maybe this will jinx me, but I'll risk it:

I have a job interview tomorrow. I already have a job, but I'm pretty much over it. I have this faint yet nagging feeling of loyalty in every job but I have to learn to get over it. Should I be loyal toward a company which has offered me little room to move up and only mediocre pay and benefits? Or should I be loyal to myself? My ambition? My future? I guess the answer is pretty easy.

I think Mr. W said it best when he said, "Oh, that's a grown-up job!" This job shares a word with my major (gasp) which means that it is in some way relevant. Perhaps it will be mostly office work and will have nothing to do with European politics or history, but the major and the job title share a word. This makes it seem thrilling beyond belief. Another thing - the title is sort of long and rather important sounding. Those are always good. It's one word longer than my current title and a lot more substantial. The words mean something, my current job title is a load of fluff to make people take a teller seriously. I had to go and buy something to wear to the interview tomorrow. I guess I didn't have to but I felt like I'd feel a million times more confident in a snazzy new outfit. Yes, this is always my logic.

Oh - too be continued! I am going to the Alaskan with Miss L to listen to some of Juneau's local talent mix some fat beats or something. I am so not hip enough to say stuff like that.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Happy New Year! Things haven't changed much.

Things haven't changed much. In many ways, yes, sure, but I am still clumsy.

I had one of those embarrassing moments one expects will never occur outside of the awkward teen years. I was walking home from work, taking a short cut as usual, and the path was slippery. I had taken the path a number of times and had been just fine, so I assumed this evening would be no different. I edged up to the small downward slope, grabbed the fence, and slid my way down in the least graceful way possible, but I was still standing. I let go, took one step, and whoosh - I've fallen completely so that I am on my side (this sort of thing breaks the hips of the elderly) and crushing my purse. Luckily that glass bottle didn't shatter and give me a thousand or so lacerations. You may be wondering how this is embarrassing, well, someone else was walking a few yards behind. I managed to get myself up, but just as I do I look behind me to see WHO was following behind. It was none other than the ultimate silly crush. I nearly fell at least a dozen more times in the 4 minutes we shared a path, but at the same time, I managed to be witty and charming - I think.

Speaking of the ultimate silly crush - I danced with him at New Year's. No, I take that back. HE danced with ME on New Year's. Nothing could make a girl happier than to share a little dance floor action with her ultimate silly crush.

And the rest of New Year's? It went well. I didn't puke for the first time in two years (a pat on the back? Oh, thanks) so I consider it a success. I looked super hot - black velvet - mmmm. I was hanging out with Miss L, who has been back from vacation since a bit before Christmas, and while we didn't have New Year's kisses, we did have small plastic cups of champagne. I also had a Long Island Iced Tea. Also a couple glasses of wine. Also a couple Gin & Tonics. If you are wondering how I didn't puke, it's because I'm a lush. More on that later. I started the evening by first shopping, then primping, then having dinner with Mr. PH (I found a bug in my salad - ewww!), then hanging out with Miss L. After Miss L and I toasted the new year, we decided to go dance. We were dancing with my friend Miss D when that fateful moment listed before occurred. Let's not even talk about the dumb grin that must have been plastered across my face. After that was over, it was decided that we had witnessed the peak of that party.

We then moved to another bar where things were pretty quiet. Miss L ran into some of her admirers while I ran into my friend Miss M. I went to chat with Miss M, who had a rather belligerent man sitting across from her. I looked at him and thought to myself that he was probably in his earlyish twenties and that he wasn't a bad looking kid, so it was really a shame that he was slurring his speech, making no sense, and lacking in social graces. He muttered something incoherent and grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away and when I came back, he began systematically dumping drinks from the table onto the floor. Miss M motioned for me to get the bouncer, which I did, and I'm sure he was happy to show off his muscle and authority. He actually had to forcefully remove the belligerent guy, who turned out to be Miss L's middle school crush. His twin almost got kicked out of the Alaskan at a later date because of it - as one can imagine, "It was my twin!" didn't really sound that convincing. Miss M and I enjoyed the peace and quiet once Drunkie McDrunkerson had left, and we also enjoyed the company of some of Miss M's acquaintances. One such of these is German, so I got to practice my drunk language skills (possibly better than my sober language skills). I also got a nice hug from Mr. J, who is worldly, beautiful, and recites French poetry on occasion. Then, about 10 minutes later, I sort of got insulted by his ex-girlfriend, though I imagine she meant it in the nicest way possible? She told me I was just his type (Mr. J's) - Short and chubby (uhhhh, thanks?) and then she had to affirm it by saying, "You're short, right?" She adores me or something though because a few days after new year's I heard my name called in the most enthusiastic of voices, and coming from her mouth. I guess she likes short, chubby girls too? Just helped motivate me in my New Year's endeavors though. Mr. G showed up in my life again. He apparently only pays attention to me on special occasions. Literally. The last time we spent much time together was a holiday as well. He followed me wherever I went for the rest of the night.

I was at another bar that night as well, I wasn't there for long. I took Miss M, J-Lover (Mr. J's ex), and Mr. G there. There was lovely blues music and I was pretty drunk at this point. I ended up with two drinks in my hand, one of which I gave away, and then eventually some of us decided to leave. We stopped by Pel'meni so some of us could eat and so I could get my hiking shoes to walk home. The next day was the first day in a long time that I genuinely got to sleep in. I stayed in bed until 2pm. Then Miss L and I were quite productive and rearranged our living room and cleaned house.

I don't have that much to say about Christmas, as it is a joyous and lovely family event, and therefore not that exciting. I will say that I spent it with Miss L's family and that I went to mass for the first time in my life. It was an interesting experience to say the least. I had dinner with them and opened presents with them as well. It was a little odd spending Christmas with another family (v. family or that one Christmas with friends) but it was definitely a much better idea than sitting alone and moping about how alone I am.

Since New Year's (do you like how I don't bother with chronological order?) I haven't done much... I did decide to start some resolutions and actually keep up with them. These resolutions include dieting, exercising, drinking more water, and giving up assholes (I tend to only date those sorts). So far (ignoring New Year's) I have done quite well. I guess I can't praise myself too much as I've only gone one weekend without drinking and I've only been on my diet for three days - but I have yet to give in to temptation!

I found this book when I was at the local organic and health food market - it looked like a decent plan, not something that would kill me or be too hard on me. I decided to buy it but when I got to the check-out stand I was offered help by a rather lanky guy who was probably in his late teens or early twenties. Great. I set the book on the counter face down, then blurted out the disclaimer: "It's new year's" as I waited for some knowing look. Instead the kid looked at the book, then looked at me incredulously, and told me I didn't need it, that I wasn't fat, and that he liked my eyebrows. Kind of made my day.

I started easing into the plan this last weekend. I didn't drink. On Friday night Miss L and I had some friends over, Miss R, Mr. K, and Mr. JK. Everyone was partaking of wine and whatnot - but not me. I sipped on a diet tonic with lime - no gin. Everyone stared at me, in awe that I would attempt the Juneau nightlife substance free. I did it. It wasn't that exciting, actually. I owe this in part to the sobriety and in part to the fact that it was just a quiet night. Miss L convinced me to do Karaoke (this makes three times) to a Dixie Chicks song. We also hippie danced. We left the bars around 1:30, which is a pretty reasonable time no matter how you look at it.

Friday night of last weekend, Miss L and I watched the movie Charlie Wilson's War, which was quite good. I think it made a nice political statement without being too obtrusive.

In other news, elections took place and starting July I hold no position in Rotaract - not even as a board member. I've applied for a new job, but I have yet to hear from them. It's a "real" job - the sort that I don't consider a mere transition... I could possibly stick with this one for a while. Cross your fingers that brain drain has left me the only qualified applicant.