At the moment, the horror is that the church bells are now ringing Christmas songs. Minutes of bell ringing to the tune of Noel.
But really. Horror. We had a horror movie night on Saturday. Miss P was the hostess, the attendees included Miss B, Mr. PD, Mr. JPB, Miss JK, and the puppy (Va)Jengo. We watched 2.25 movies. One was a French psychological thriller/slasher film. One was Cabin Fever, which featured Rider Strong of Boy Meets World fame. The .25 was The Devil's Rejects, for which we turned out to be a tad too sensitive. Rob Zombie is one unabashedly perverted man. We drank beer, which added to the character of the audience commentary. (Va)Jengo was a gassy pup and regularly contributed to the horror of the night. Not only could you see and hear the horror, you could smell it. Smell-o-vision is not the future.
Despite a night of blood and gore, I maintain a squeamishness for real violence and blood as evidenced by my repulsion at later events. Once the majority concluded that The Devil's Rejects was a bit much for our taste, some of us went downtown to hit the bars. At my request, we skipped out on two of my usual favorite bars due to poor company. Didn't want to deal with Mr. HG who may now be categorized under "Ew, why did I do that?" or Miss Formerly Known as Shrek. We headed to the Imperial after this process of elimination occurred.
There I ran into Mr. CPP, Mr. HS, and Mr. HJ. While Miss P and Miss JK played some pool, I chatted with these gentlemen about numerous things, including exchanging lectures with Mr. HJ about the following topics: "Believe it or not, girls don't always dress for guys" and "Just so you know, guys are simple and don't really care how a girl is dressed, they will still want to do her." That being said, nobody in my group wanted to "do" the girl who inspired these topics, she was kind of a nasty, mean girl and I guess threatened to have guys beat up Mr. HS, who proclaimed that he could take them both. I'm guessing he could take both, assuming they aren't as large as he is. To me, he is like a big teddy bear. To a foe, he is likely more a ferocious bear that will leave you feeling a little less than whole.
Not long after joining these gentlemen for conversation, a ruckus arose. Ruckus, in this case, is synonymous with fight. The fight, which started between two people (Miss P's account from the dance floor) very swiftly became a bar room brawl reminiscent, no doubt, of the old Alaska of the mining days. People who assumedly rushed in (after the longest 30 seconds ever) to break up the fight, became engulfed by the fight until sprawling, punching, lurching bodies broke like a wave at my feet. A shirtless native fellow had blood streaming down his face in vertical stripes, a natural war paint, while he yelled and waved his arms to welcome more attacks. I was horrified and repulsed by the whole scene. I was appalled that the situation had accelerated so quickly and that the response to this was so seemingly slow and insufficient. After I excused myself from the scene, I waved down a cop, yelling at him to come in and do something about the fight. I peered in the window to see if the boys were coming out. Mr. CPP exited and we exchanged words. Mr. HS and Mr. HJ remained inside, and as things began to clear up, I noted that they were being questioned by the police. I felt bad about walking away with friends still inside and dealing with the aftermath, but I could contribute nothing and it wouldn't really benefit me to be tied to some brawl in any way. I walked part of the way home with Mr. CPP, then parted ways. He texted once he got home and we discussed the situation somewhat before going to bed.
Yes, we discussed via text message, that boy is the reason I had to upgrade to a larger text package.
Disregarding, once again, chronological order in favor of order of excitement or immediacy or whatever drives me to write the way I do, here are other events from the weekend:
Friday night at the Bergmann was slow. I walked away with less than half the amount I made the previous week and less than a third of what I made my first night there. It wasn't bad though, as I had friends come in and I was able to sit with people and chat. Mr. JBH returned at some point with Mr. ER and Miss D, and later Miss M and the crush showed up, as did a new character, Mr. CL. I had every intention of devoting all my attention to the crush, but Mr. CL insisted that I dance with him (think foxtrot or waltz) to a couple songs. Then he instigated a debate, despite the fact that all those involved were in agreement about most things. As the time for me to go home and sleep approached and passed, I said my goodbyes, disappointed that the crush and I barely exchanged a word.
I went to the Public Market this year! It is a large fair full of vendors of crafts and foods and various holiday sundries. I bought some Christmas gifts for some family members and won a cedar carved feather with a decal. Had it been hand painted, I may have paid for one, but the decal was a little tacky. Alas, it shall be gifted. What I really had wanted was a Chilton bracelet, looks like I'll just have to save up some money and buy one. They are really cool for a couple reasons, including the fact that I know some of the Chiltons personally. One is the husband of a former co-worker, the other was a fellow Obama delegate at the State Democratic Convention (I was totally part of history!). I am having a really tough time choosing a design because, not being of Tlingit descent, there is no obvious choice based on house or such things. One of the brothers, the one I know better, suggested love birds (Eagle and Raven, representing the two houses) but since I'm not in love... I guess I overanalyze even jewelry choice. No wonder I suck at dating. And how did I ever choose a tattoo?
I preceded the Public Market with Breakfast with Miss A, with whom I attended the market, and we later did dinner at her place with the company of Mr. AR. Mr. AR and I bonded over a similar life journey. The journey North, that is. He started life in Central California, then lived in Central Oregon (we attended the same high school at different times), and is now (obviously) here in Juneau, Alaska.
Then horror night. See above.
Sunday I worked at the boutique and at closing, while taking out the trash, I ran into Miss HB, the GF of Mr. AK, who works for the PCT. So many acronyms! One of their employees, the wife/girlfriend of one of my current co-workers, has been accepted to grad school in NZ, and she mentioned the position opening up sometime in January. Hint hint, wink wink. I told her I'd bring my resume, should the DC thing not pan out. This sort of thing is pretty typical Juneau. There are so many connections. Relationships, both personal and professional, can be so interwoven. Since my first job here, the majority of jobs I have held have been achieved through such connections rather than the typical search and apply method.
Post work and chat with Miss HB, I went to Miss P's house, where we spent yet another evening talking about life and love and larger issues. Mr. JPB stopped by for a bit and Mr. M returned from his trip to the FBX. Miss P and I headed out to "church" at the Imperial later in the evening, and we sipped on drinks, munched on cupcakes from a Public Market vendor, and talked about dating. Earlier I had been discussing with Miss P a "tactic" which seems like it may be similar to what is in this book a fellow blogger wrote about today. probably should have consumed slightly less alcohol, since I had to work early this morning, but I did make it on-time-ish though I look sort of scrubby. I determined at around 5am that if I got up to go get my cell phone for an alarm, I'd wake up too much to finish out my sleep. Instead I fumbled with my crappy alarm clock which shows the wrong time and trills obnoxiously. I don't actually know how to use it, so I woke up 15 minutes later than intended. Oh well. Drunk logic and technology and me. Don't you love it?
And you don't have to read this part, but if you are curious, I will be mapping out my connections in terms of getting jobs:
A complete history of getting jobs through connections:
Job # 1: A Pizza Parlor where my best friend worked.
Job # 2: An internship with a lobbying firm which had hired nothing but Delta Gammas for years. One of my favorite seniors clued me into the opening when she accepted a promotion to Receptionist/Assistant and started getting paid reasonable money.
Job # 3: I knew a lot of people who worked in the admissions office and didn't realize I was given the job until an e-mail later that day. Oh, thanks!
Job # 4: Cartoonist for the paper - my BFF who convinced me to move to Juneau was the editor - one day I drew an example comic and was instantly hired.
Job # 5: Possibly the only search and apply job I've ever had. Working at the CU introduced me to lots of people in Juneau, so from then on, it was back to working the connections.
Job # 6: I built a relationship with the owner of the boutique through shopping.
Job # 7: As a friend of many of the bartenders and acquaintance of one of the owners, asking if I could work there was all it took to get my job at the 'Vous.
Job # 8: I went through a temp agency, but the woman who works there knows me and would take extra special care to tell me about all the best jobs first and most likely pushed for me to get the position.
Job # 9: The sister of a "sister" was looking for field organizers, an e-mail was sent to the (then current) pres, a close friend of mine, who told me about the campaign job opening.
Job # 10: A friend who I met partially through knowing her sister and close friends, partially through a fellow Germanophile, suggested I apply for the current 8-to-5.
Job # 11: The owner is an acquaintance and asked me if I wanted to work one day. It continues on a weekly basis. Every Friday night, the Bergmann is the place to be.
The environmental job: As I said, an acquaintance who works for the organization on this really cool international project mentioned the opening, undoubtedly as an invitation to apply.
The political job: Former field organizers were encouraged to apply, after spending much time and effort on a cover letter, I was told that we needn't worry about such formalities. Oh well.
The other political job: If I get a job in the state legislature it would be because I know some of the legislators, some of the legislators staffers, and even some big names like the US Senate Elect.
Some people suffer unemployment, lately I suffer from opportunity overload. I've got three jobs when some have none. I've got job opportunities that I don't know if I need. I am apparently very employable. Now, having accomplished that employability thing, I must attempt to learn to say 'No' every once in a while.