Some old news

I quit my job. During my pregnancy and leave, people would ask me if I was going to go back. I really believed I would go back part time. I shall strive to be concise here:

I have worked since I was 16. I was unfamiliar with life without a job. Sometimes when I review my employment history I feel like I'm a little Kirk from Gilmore Girls. I have worn many hats. However, I hit the jackpot in June 2009. I finally found a job where I felt interested, challenged, and I got to use some of my talents. I moved up. I got to go to trial, I had a lot of responsibility, I even got an assistant! I worked with people I respect. I had the best friends there; I miss seeing their lovely faces every day. I got office gossip by the gallon. I got free diet coke. I was close to the mall. I was up to my eyeballs in work. No, top of my scalp.

I really thought I would go back. People told me I wouldn't want to work, even part time, and it ruffled my feathers. Nobody likes other people telling them how they do or will feel. Beyond that, the people telling me this stuff had never had jobs they'd been very invested in. I felt compelled to keep a leg in that world, and if they didn't understand that, then that was OK.

Then came this little raspberry.

(Looking at this I can't believe how small he was, and his face looks NOTHING like that now!)

At one month I didn't feel ready to return to work but thought maybe by 3 months I would.

Two months was the same,

Three months...well...you guessed it. And here I am on a Wednesday afternoon at home in grubby paint clothes taking a break from working on the Master Bathroom, and waiting for Jude to wake up from his nap.

There has never been anything I've felt more drawn to than my child. I don't have an obvious resource for childcare that would be worth it financially. We are so blessed that I don't have to work. And if it wasn't imperative, I couldn't bring myself to leave Jude with someone who doesn't have such an invested interest. Also, I had to admit to myself that my job was more of an "all in or all out" thing, and working "part time" really wouldn't have been part time in the end.

So I resigned.

Here's the only visual I have of myself on the job (I was at an inspection):

2 months later I am still getting used to this. I've talked to some other moms about this and it's nice to know I'm not the only one who feels a potpourri of

- self-spun guilt for the husband having all financial responsibility on his muscly shoulders,

- laziness -- and a strange lack of motivation since besides changing and feeding J, house projects and other things are not time sensitive. I work well on deadlines, routine, and pressure.

- missing the paycheck and seeing the finished work product,

- missing my own desk with a nice view of the 405, where everything was set up just like I like it,

- missing driving to work with Jeff and those days of being in the same field,

- guilt for missing these things in the first place,

conflicted by the impossible deliciousness of your baby and getting to soak up every little gurgle and squeal.

No matter how long I've dreamed of being a mother, saying goodbye to what my job gave me hasn't been as easy as I'd imagined. I guess cake is not always for having AND eating. In choosing between a job and my child, my child is the easy winner, I just am in search of something I can do while I have Jude right next to me. Of course I kick myself for not becoming better at piano -- Elizabeth has taught lessons for years! Some days the search is very important to me and I'm very antsy. Some days that's not the way I feel. Jeff has been sweet, supportive, and encouraging. I am trying to teach myself to not be so dependent on routine and deadlines. I remind myself there will be time later for the things I miss now. I read up on what religious leaders have taught about parenthood. I hug my baby and rub my cheek against his cheek while he sleeps. And my heart is full.

I guess I don't know my own strength. Just the simple act of stapling a 50 page document Strips the shelf upon which said instrument was placed of its ability to perform its one task in the world: to hold stuff up.

It would have been less awkward if the shelf had been mine and not my co-worker's.

And a happy Friday to you all.



-- Post From My iPhone

So rude.

This morning within 5 minutes of getting to work a customer came in to yell at me. I think she decided to do it on Saturday afternoon and planned for the next day and a half for Monday morning, because she had some good lines in there that could not have been conjured spur-of-the-moment. Brevity was not in her cards. It was of no importance that the error she accused me of was not mine, didn't even exist, or that it didn't even have any impact on her life. She just wanted someone to chuck all her firey anger at, and she picked me. She even brought a friend who sat there with a smirk. It distantly reminded me of when they'd bring a companion to the public hanging of an innocently charged (and probably very kind and dutiful) prisoner. "Hey I hear someone's about to be totally unjustly ended! Can I come watch???!!" "Certainly! Nothing I'd rather do on my Monday morning than enjoy it with you!" After she had her fill trying to squash me, she seemed very happy with herself and left her contact information and barked at me to call her when I had drawn up a letter confirming that the non-existent explosion had in fact, done no damage to her credit. It was kind of fun to do this, for in the writing of the letter I ever so slyly proved that there had been no mistake in the first place, and that she never stood to lose anything. I feel I've edited enough of Jeff's thises and thats to know how to use legal jargon to make it sound very intimidating and high-falooting. Despite the healing qualities of that letter I still felt a smidge deflated and vengeful, but knowing these emotions would come to nothing, I thought to better days...days like the ones that made up this weekend. Please don't expect grammatical structure in the blogging that follows...................


Friday:

• Worked and got off early. Awesome. I loathe the time in between putting in notice and actually returning the proverbial vault keys. It's awkward, it passes slowly, it is bleh. Getting off early was just the ticket.
• Went to my parents' and made some cookies.
• Watched a movie with the bereft-of-fiance Sarah, or at least part of a movie. She fell asleep rather quickly.
• Ended the night with a meaty chat in a room filled with Jeff H., Michelle H., Peter B., and James A.
• Returned to apartment and ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
  

Saturday:

• First Saturday off in months.
• Went to brunch (how much fun is it to say that word?!) at a cozy little Galley and pretended to be a Newpsie.
• Toodled around town with Michelle H. and was sufficiently dazzled by her company, and sufficiently heartsick over the unattainable snazziness of the items we browsed in Anthropologie.
• Went to run a couple of errands too boring to inflict upon anyone.
• Went to Hollywood with the two Hayes and was thrilled by the fact that Debbie Reynolds was wearing heels when she left her mark in the cement at Grauman's Chinese Theater.
• Wondered why I've let so much time slip by in between viewings of the best movie of all time. See Exhibit A.

Exhibit A

• Returned home at 1am with a cookie and ice cream in my stomach.
• Ice cream had been Peanut Butter; there had been no restraint.
• Fell asleep so fast I didn't even notice or care that my apartment was a mad house.
• ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sunday:

• Ward Counciling. Didn't even mind it. People in ward are funny.
• Consumed copious amounts of cookies on the 7 minute drive home.
• Left remaining cookies in car in between Ward Council and church, thereby allowing the excessively allotted chocolate in cookies to melt in ripening summer weather and ruining possibilities of eating cookies in church. Feel like a bad person for not supplying treats.
• Enjoy church. Good meetings. Missed it a lot working so many Sundays at bank. Wished US Bank wasn't so keen on keeping some branches open 7 days a week.
• Went home from church. Talked to mom. Mom knows everything and is the wisest woman of any I ever knew.
• Ate a DELICIOUS dinner cooked by one Michelle H.
• Went on walk on beach. Felt spoiled to live 1 mile away from the water. Wished Annie Garlock was living closer to water too.
• Received text messages from my brother-in-law on walk. Seems he enjoys his Palm Pre. If you're wondering what that is, talk to him. He'll tell you.
• Ate Fudgsicle.
• Watched Kobe mumble about winning and how cool it is.
• Was perplexed at why the NBA people seemed so determined to extract from the adrenaline flooded professional athletes an answer to the question, "Why is this 4th victory so different?!?!?!" Thought it's probably not that different. They sought victory because it is their job and the obtained it. Just means 5 houses in the Hamptons instead of 3.
• Went to Irvine to watch Ghost Town with Mom and Sarah. Decided a Ricky Gervais movie on a Sunday night with 2 of the most astounding women the world has ever known is a delight more people should know, but I have them to myself -- HAHA!
• ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

My weekend in summation. I like my life a whole lot.

me, Me, ME:

- I already returned the clock and got 3 of these mirrors instead. Same price but more dreamy and wraps up the decorating in one fell swoop.



I'll put up a picture of the hung look so you can see how delightful it is.

- After getting the VERBAL offer last Friday, I got the OFFICIAL offer from Snell & Wilmer this morning. Consider me the happiest Paralegal Assistant west of the Mississippi. I am really stoked about this job and can't wait to get my hands dirty in the non-malpractice way.

- Since putting in my 2 weeks notice the banking universe has been out to punish me by weakening my coordination. I've only been at work 3 hours today and I already spilled 75% of my salad all over myself and the floor (goodbye lunch), and then 20 minutes later I spilled Diet Coke. Saints be praised that at least that dries in a fairly invisible hue.

- My phone officially punked out on me for good, and the new iPhone isn't unleashed for 8 more days. I'm feeling quite cut off from the world right now. (Right. There are at most 3 people who might text me while I'm at work. Mom, Jeff, or Lindsey.)

- After much consideration, we've decided that Us Weekly far out-entertains People. Why? Because in the midst of its frivolity, People does make attempts at dignity. Us Weekly just shamelessly goes for all out rock bottom. Because they love the pond scumm. Because this last week the cover had a picture of Kate Gosselin in a bathing suit on the beach and the words, 'Mommy, You're MEAN!' You saw it too, didn't you.

Oh where do I even begin? I watched an episode of that show over a year ago at Elizabeth's house. Didn't think too much of it. Then I've seen it mocked a bit on The Soup, which is of course nothing less than hilarity. Poor family. I can't imagine that whatever sort of a mire they're shlepping through is entirely the fault of husband or wife. BUT, I will say that of COURSE mommy is mean! Thank goodness her kids sometimes call her mean! Not that I've ever donned the Parent Hat, but if my mom had never done anything I considered mean at the time, I'd be an obese bump on a log. No sense of reality. I'd have mush for a noodle. I love it when parents say, "Oh I want my child to just choose his own way" when their child is oh, you know, in elementary school. Do you know what is a really fun thing to do? Get my sister Elizabeth talking about this. She'll invariably say in a very um, strong voice, "Oh, so then what am I here for?? Parents are supposed to PARENT." From my non-mommy/loving aunt and babysitter perch, I understand that kids' creativity and individuality needs to be nurtured, they need to be LOVED and SQUEEZED and KISSED and APPRECIATED and PRAISED, but don't they also need limits and guidance? I sure as hell did when I was growing up. And as one of the most snappy men around, Elder Holland, once said to parents everywhere, "Second only to your love, they need your boundaries."

Anyway, all I'm sayin is, whatever sort of hellish thing it is or isn't to be married to Kate OR Jon Gosselin, at least like my OWN mother she doesn't bow to her childrens' every wim and wish every single minute of the day. Maybe after all the therapy from the tabloid freak show is over, they've got some qualities in their mother that will give them a good shot at a happy life. Sometimes I thought my mom was mean; the story is even told I was 4 when the carpets had been shampooed and after I said, "Mom, remember when you wouldn't let us touch the carpet, and you were a mean old scary old witch??". Tough love and all, sheesh, look at how good I turned out!

where do i sign?!

after almost a year of either being unemployed or working a job that made me feel grim about the future,

i

got

a

tight
job

!

one that i wanted, really really wanted.

i will be working as a paralegal assistant at a righteous firm in costa mesa. props be to ashlee macdonald for watching out for a fellow daughter of zion.

i can finally stop hopping around, i can just plant some roots and GROW with a company.

i celebrated by stuffing my face with an inordinate amount of potato wedges and sweet potato fries. i'm really into potatoes lately. and then jeff and i made nachos. why do all my most triumphant moments in life need to be followed by things that clog my arteries?

i'm still vibrating for excitement, relief, and gratitude.

and yes, mike cunningham DID take this photo.

Interview

I have been to 2 job interviews in the past 48 hours.

Job interviews are like dates. You have to dress like you care but aren't trying too hard. I have to fight the impulse to play with my hair (my neon flashing sign o' "Word up, y'all, I'm nervous!"), and can tell pretty quickly if it's something I want to pursue further or not (and consequently either spend the rest of the time wondering why I did this to myself, and wishing I were watching Gilmore Girls at home, OR hoping they notice my divine nature and endearing skillz). If it is going well, the final 10 seconds of the ordeal are the most nerve-racking. In the case of a first date/interview, you wouldn't hope for the job offer/goodnight lip mash at first parting -- wouldn't that be oddly hasty? I mean, unless you're 2 minutes from reporting to the MTC or harboring hopes of joining the Hogi Yogi team. If not, you just want some reason to believe you'll meet again to explore compatibility on a meatier level. An "I had a great time; we should do it again sometime," and maybe a swift hug. Or an "It was a pleasure to meet you; we'll be in touch," with a firm handshake.

And then you wait by the phone and when that gets old you make yourself busy with arts and crafts..................................................................................

the most random post to date.

remember your elementary school crush?  mine was pretty uniform, and landed on b.j. fell.  first tip that it was a childhood crush: i would never allow myself to go out with an acronym name person in adulthood.  i don't believe there's a slip of a chance he reads this blogety blog, but if he is in fact reading this post, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him, and i had it in good faith from a few of my grammar school BFFs that he had a crush on me too.  

what was this crush like?

he'd catch me staring at him, i'd catch him staring at me.  maybe if we were assigned seats next to each other and boys and girls were fraternizing in a friendly way, i'd say something like, "i like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches best."  and then b.j. might utter, "i like them best, too."  and then we'd look at each other with a mixture of shame and appreciation.  other than that we'd tease each other, call each other names, react dramatically (and scoffingly) to the slightest comment made by the other, perhaps even a poke, an "indian burn" (oh the political incorrectness of the late 80s!), and perhaps share an infrequent giggle.  "no" meant "yes" 99% of the time in them days.  i'm sure you yourself remember.

and that romance was on-again, off-again for at least 3 years of my tutelage at el camino real elementary school.  but you know, you grow apart, you reinvent yourselves, and with any luck, the split is amicable.  then at high school graduation we took a picture together, the summer after freshman year of college i waited on his parents one evening during my month-long stint as an annoyed server at the restaurant "on the border," and that's the end.

back to the description of the crush.  am i the only one who thinks that looks like the right side of the judges' table on american idol?  isn't paula abdul INSANELY in love with simon cowell?  unrequited has-been love.  what a doosy.

i promise i have other things going on in my life besides american idol.

apparently obama was in orange county today.  didn't see him.

jeff and i went to california adventure on monday and went on all the rides that are hard to persuade a larger group to go on.  he may be able to beat all 10 levels of labrynth on his iphone in about 7 minutes, but i beat him by a clear mile on that toy story target shooting ride.  

work has been going well so far.  although it's unfortunate how much i'm needing to adapt to longer hours (it used to go by so quickly!), i haven't yet rolled my eyes about this employment switch.  i actually have had some great conversations about the church with my new co-workers, it's a relatively aesthetically pleasing branch, the hours are much better than at charles david, and i just might become a cheapskate out of all this.  working with money all day somehow sucks the will to spend it plum out of a person.  

at sarah's wedding i'll have my 7th go as a bridesmaid.  how does that old saying go?  "23 times a bridesmaid, never a bride."  right.  i'm safe!

if anyone in orange county even considered shimmying into a pool or jacuzi sometime this year, just forget it.  you heard me, forget it.  we've been griping since january that jeff's association pool and jacuzi were closed down until april, then july, and now august.  last saturday we hauled buns to irvine to use my parents'/the jacuzi of my formative years.  nothin doin.  there we found out that every county pool and hot tub has been closed down until some unspecified date to bring it up to some lame code that i don't think could even be that important. :) i mean, we've all enjoyed those water bins as-is all this time!  some might say, "if something ees not broken, you are not to feex eet!"  anyway, it looks like i'll be spending the entire cruise in the pool to make up for lost time.  that and eating jalapeno poppers.

speaking of jalapeno poppers, i've already informed my parents they don't need to worry about those for sarah's wedding reception, i'll make the trip to costco and make sure they're on the refreshment table.  :)

speaking of refreshment table, i'm going to go see what i got me in my fridge.  :)

my day

today i woke up feeling a little apprehensive. who wants to feel apprehensive? not i. i had to work at my soon-to-be old job and start the new one, i had to go to la mirada to get fingerprinted, the internet wasn't working at my apartment, and i hate, hate, HATE being new at a job. i like to know what i'm doing. i'm a creature who adores routine with a fringe of spontaneity. a new job offers none of that cozy familiarity. i feel like at almost 27, i am WAY too old to be starting a new job in a new field. this whole employed to unemployed to employed with a peanuts paying job to now thing has really reaked havoc on my ego. so those feelings twirling around with the feelings of a new job and the awkwardness of the "2 weeks notice hum drum" with an old job, i was just feeling like march 12 would not be my day.

when i'm apprehensive, i'm usually too busy feeling this way to do anything about it, but today i wanted to do some things "because i wannoo." please say that as a 3-6 year old who's wining. like this:

scenario 1

mother in a shrill voice: mary! please empty the dishwasher!

mary calling down from her barbie dreamcastle shelter: but i don' wannoo.

scenario 2

mother scolding: jimmy bob! WHY are you smearing my lipstick all over the egyptian cotton bedsheets?????

jimmy bob without a hint of remorse: because i wannoo.

ok back to me. there were 2 or 3 things i did just because at the time i thought, "i wannoo." like i drove to irvine (the US bank branch i'm now working at is about 1 mile away from my parents' house) with my laptop, took a shower and got ready there, ate lunch (thanks for the grub!), checked my email, blah blah blah. it might have been more time efficient to do this in huntington, but it just felt good to be in the edifice of my upbringing. i love it there. then i got a chocolate diet coke. just because i wannoo. those were about the only "wannoo" things i could do, so then i went to us bank (love my new co-workers). then i went to la mirada (this place smells like BO, no offense to anyone who feels a kinship to that land). then i went to charles david and got there 20 minutes late (but they had a heads up concerning that tardiness).

little did i know that march 12 actually WOULD be my day. in the late afternoon i found out why. let me tell you folks.

i got myself a new mantra written for me, and was pink in the face over the fact that sometimes your friends are just ridiculously kind.

i got myself hand delivered flowers at charles david by a tall, blond, and handsome guy. so cute. my co-workers were pea green with envy.

and then we made pizza at 10pm. i sprinkled cheese to my heart's content.

because sometimes you get to do things just because you wannoo.

life is good.

the end.

an insomniac's prattling

1. i got a job at us bank.  i'm starting mondee.  

1.5. i got into the paralegal program at UCI and am trying to decide on that.  i know what some of you are thinking.  "didn't you beg me to write your letter of recommendation for the MFA in creative writing???"  "gee, thanks, i'm glad i spent time writing your letter o' rec for the masters/teaching credential.  wonderful.  love it."  i'm trying to make a decision.  i hate this decision, because now does NOT seem to be the time to be going into hefty debt, even for school.

2. jason.  it seems everywhere people are talking about this guy jason, and not in positive tones.  this all savors strongly of when i came home from my mission and the whole of california was up in a big to do about tom brady leaving his prego ex-girlfriend, which doesn't make sense because how can you leave someone you left before either of you knew she was baking a bun of baby?  (oh the fun they all had when he lost the super bowl after a perfect season.  i heard the word "karma" about 390 times the next day at work.  boo ya, tom!)  so back to jason, the moron of the hour.  i didn't know much about him, having never been a bachelor watcher, so i peeked in on the season finale and the "after the rose" episode that was sittin pretty on my DVR.  this is what i have to say about it: ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR.  it seems to me we had a guy, he thought he liked it, and because the time came for the season finale, he put a ring on it, and then later he decided he didn't like it so he took the ring off it, and is dating someone else.  tacky to take the ring off it on national television?  of course.  but it's reality tv, and as a rule they do EVERYTHING in a tacky and attention grabbing way.  

3. i went to disneyland today with my mum.  great time.  she's so cute i'll have to put pictures up tomorrow.  it reminded me of being in europe with her, which was one of the best times i'll ever have in my life, so go ahead and assume today was a good day.  safe assumption.

Hagelslad

I've mentioned before that Jeff and I are drinking deeply from this "no treats except for Sunday" torture fountain. There are frightening penalties for disrupting the flow of one's dessert deprivation, and besides the Sabbath, we pause only for national holidays (woot woot for St. Patrick's freaking day!). Although we do it by choice, we don't often appreciate the "nobility" of our "endeavors." We have been known to sit with our eyes glued to the clock on Saturday nights, holding a box of donut holes and/or a bag of bridge mix, waiting with twinkly eyes for the stroke of midnight.  By 12:04 it's really not a pretty picture.

There is one thing that keeps us sane from Monday morning to Saturday night: "No Sugar Added" Frozen Yogurt. In a perfect world, that world where my legs are indeed quite sexy and cellulite-free, no ifs, ands, or but(t)s, I would go to the yogurt chain of choice and load up a bowl with the 99% Fat Free Peanut Butter flavor. Then I would scoop, nay, POUR brownie cubes and cheesecake bites atop that cold calcium divine. Then I would get a second bowl. This would be a most prized bowl, for it would be the treasure chest of mochi. The gelatinous poetry of the mochi balls, how they speak to my taste buds and therefore to my soul. [Snap back to reality!] It's not a perfect world, and if I eat 23,000 mochi balls and quarts of brownies and cheesecake bites, it would be impossible to differentiate between the thighs on me and the thighs on a Brontosaurus.  And so we eat "No Sugar Added" and try not to grumble about the fact that while the other flavors rotate from a seemingly bottomless list, there are only 3 flavors that come from the approved list, and one of them is coffee, aka illegal for a different reason.  

Last Friday was not a good day for me, because my hours got cut at work.  Go California!  Not to worry, I got a new job the next day.  As the Reverend Mothah says, "When the Lord closes the door, somewhea he opens a window."  But as far as I knew on Friday, the job market had handed me another reesty elbow in the rib cage.  As I shuffled through the Cherry On Top doors, Jeff lifted an extra-large bowl from the pink stack and passed it to me.  Then he informed me of a loop hole: there are no treat restrictions on days of unfortunate employment developments.  He himself insisted on abstaining, but didn't have to tell me twice about that off-the-cuff loophole.  By the time we got to the topping bar, I was feeling guilty for my gluttony and looked at his health infested bowl.  I looked down at the sprinkles in the trough before me, and said, "Jeff, if you want to get sprinkles, I don't mind.  I mean, they're not really against thr ules, because....what are they even made of anyway??  Nothing!"  The guy in front of Jeff in line seemed to think I had a good point, and anyway definitely thought I was funny, because he chuckled at/with me, and then came behind me in line to paint his own yogurt with the confectionery maggots.  

So anyway I ended up doing some research on sprinkles.  I was right, they are nearly flavorless, nearly made of undefinable specks of who knows what, nearly impossible to eat one at a time, because even the most effectively developed fine motor skills as were ever seen could not handle the pressures.  I did find, also, that they are Dutch, originally named Hagelslad, or "hail" in my mother tongue.  They are called "jimmies" in other circles, and, their "sister" decoration, Comfits, are made of ginger, fennel, coriander, anise, and caraway; all of these are decidedly plants and herbs.  Sprinkles = good for the glutton and the Jainist alike.

This was a load of ramblings and odd findings and statements.  I guess I'm just sayin', everyone should have some sprinkles, or jimmies, or comfits, or whatever they need to feel better in these touch-and-go days in the country I love.  Those sprinkles ain't gonna hurtcha none.  Things will get better soon, because good things happen to good people, and I happen to see so many of those good people all around me.

Wedges are dangerous.

Raise your hand if you've ever been working at an upscale women's shoe store and you've been selling one of these "wedge" shoes

and you say to the woman whose 28 karat ring is blinding you, 

"Wedgies have been selling well because they're more comfortable than a stiletto."

[My hand is well up in the air.]

Woops.  She bought em even though I called them a Deacon's gift to his little sister.

Facts

Or maybe now that Paula Abdul is back on TV, it should be "truths"?

#1: My arms got sunburnt while eating an al fresco lunch yesterday. In January?!? Are you KIDDING ME?!?!
#2: Our dear Presidente-to-be Obama-mama-rama has tried very hard to avoid being a "Celeb Prez," but his 95 MILLION DOLLAH DOLLAH BILL inaugural bizzle will cue performances by 23 celebrities, including U2, Shakira, and Sting (none of whom are American citizens, but I suppose that being our common victims in the horrific effects of global warming, they have reason to be just as dazzled about our new Capitan as Oprah, who IS an American citizen).
#3: Purple is a horrible color. Oh I guess that's not a fact. Or is it...?
#4: The relief of having an income again still hasn't worn off.
#5: My mum cut my hair yesterday. Except you'd never notice it, because it was just a bite of a trim.
#6: And now this has become a boring blog post.

A job, a job for Merzy.

Look at that face.  Just look at it.  How those cheeks give me cause to squeeze them!  I just want to hug and kiss and love her.  As babies go, Younger Niece is totally boss.

Ok, I had to start with something about someone else, because the rest of this post is going to focus on ME, ME, ME.  As my Annie Reynolds once said, it's time to get my real on.

On October 3 I got laid off, which I have mentioned a few times already on this here blog.  I nursed my woes by scooping deeply from a Yogurtland troff that evening, watched Lars and the Real Girl, and then the next morning felt quite rejuvenated and confident I would have another job in a matter of days.  Come on, I'm bilingual, have had great jobs in the past and maintain close, friendly contact with previous employers.  I did the BYU diploma thing -- what's to not love about my employee channel?  I bring loads to the table.  Loads.

Then followed 3 months of a quiet horror.  At first I had lofty ideals of the jobs I would consider, but my selectiveness waned in direct correlation to my funds.  However, even as I became willing to broaden my interests, the great American economy did not listen.  While I knew I was one of many talented people in the "Day Club", I began to interpret my lack of responsibility as lack of capability.  The bloom wore off the rose of total liberation at warp speed, and I felt jealous of my gainfully employed, needed, useful friends and family.  I missed my business-cazh clothing and loathed the 12 year old "hoodie" look that my daily activities merited.  Grandpa McOmber was right when he said to be grateful for hard work, because we'd be miserable without it.  I wondered how long the economy, in all cruelty, could remain so horribly flat-lined.

But then

I got a job. I didn't even tell anyone for a few hours, and still other people in my "inner circle" for a few days, because it's a job, not a career (the pay will scarcely cover my bare-minimum living expenses). Still, it's a job.  Sometimes it doesn't feel true that I once again have somewhere I need to be every day, once again I will draw money from some corporate bank account and deposit it into my own to pay for things like, oh, you know, rent and the haircut I have so desperately needed. (The crop of snarly hair sitting atop my head is an abomination.)  I am so incredibly grateful that I have the chance to work.  While slopping around in the jobless mire I learned this lesson hard and cold.  I suppose this is all to my long-term benefit that I experienced this humility gala now, but holy shiz, glad am I that it is done and done.  And with that my pretties, I say have a good day at work tomorrow.

[nervous giggle]

i'm not much of a morning person. no i take it back. i would hedge a bet that i am the least morning of persons ever to suck in some oxygen in the history of the world. my most harmonious companionship on my mission was with hermana lott; we were both horrible in the mornings, and we just had this understanding that not a word would be exchanged until we were eating breakfast, about an hour after we'd arisen. i'm groggy. it's a toss up whether i'm incredibly grouchy and cruel or incredibly giggly and loopy. i'm in a race to get to the bathroom. i'm just...i'm just...i just need a few minutes.

so i've been unemployed for about a month, right? (not abiding the last 7 business days in which i temped for a friend whilst she splish splashed either in puddles or in the surf of my old stomping grounds, ROSTA CICA.) i could and should write another post here about what i've learned in my exclusion from the pay day club for the first time in a decade. but for now, suffice it to say i'm stoked to fill out some new HR forms once again. it's so close, i can taste it. that and the "yogurt" covered almond i just plunged into my mouth. i'm most hopeful for this one job where my dear friend alyson has been working. her husband has had her cell phone for the past month so i've become accustomed to reaching her on her work line or through email.

this morning i was jolted into consciousness by the ring-a-ling-a-linging of my cell phone. i only know that i saw it was aly's work number, and answered it post-haste, "HEEEEYYYYYY!" the person on the other end was not aly.

long story short, i'm 98% sure that somehow in the minutes that followed, her boss and i scheduled an interview, i'm 38% sure i spoke all in coherent english, and i'm 85% sure that they still want to interview me, but i do plan on double checking with aly.

if i ever own my own company, out of decency and respect for my kind, i will schedule all interviews with potential employees at approximately 11:58 pm. give them a real chance to shine.

i don't have anything really fun or interesting to say today. if you were bored enough to read this post, you would find out that:

whenever i come around the corner toward the front desk at work, i can see plain as day that the receptionist has been playing solitaire or is on facebook. she quickly minimizes the screen, swings her chair around, and smiles nervously at me. i wonder whether or not i should tell her that i don't care what she does at work all day, if i should tell her about my blogging, blog reading, g-chat, and email addiction. i consider informing her that in the mornings, when my swash-buckling co-worker who sits 5 feet away from me is in the office, i have to be careful to not laugh out loud at my escapist internet dealings so that i don't get caught.

nah, let her sweat it out.

simple mathematics

my desk is right by the front doors to the office suite + our office suite is right by 4 elevators + the elevators are very busy + upon "landing," they ring this bell that sounds almost exactly like the front desk bell at my previous job, but a little bit more like the ghetto blaster microwave we had at home until i was 11...

=

i'm craving microwave popcorn and keep having the impulse to get up and see who's waiting to be helped with insurance needs.

i'm the king of the woooorld!

every time i think i don't really like working FOR someone else, which is a lot, my mind starts to pitter patter over options where I would be the big enchilada.

here's what i've come up with today:

-painting houses. inside or out, i care not. i'd listen to my ipod, min' m' bidness, get an arm work out so i can maybe one day ask someone if they got their tickets to the gun show.
-move to costa rica and open up a pulperria, which is basically a mini mart attached to your house where you sell anything from individual chocolates to plantains to coke lite to karate belts to plastic necklaces to breast pumps (the last piece of merchandise was in the chinese-owned pulperria/internet cafe in my first area).
-buy a golden spoon, which i probably would but to afford one i'd have to marry for riches, and by becoming such an one as a gold digger, i wouldn't need to work anymore. also golden spoon isn't franchising any further right now.
-buy millions of vending machines and put them in office parks like the one i currently sit in, where everyone is so weighed down by the dolldrums of the grind that their sugar intake is so incredibly high that at any given moment they are 0.8 seconds away from slipping into a diabetic coma. then i sit back and watch the quarters and the dollah bills roll through the slots. excellent, smithers.

phone interview

cut her off regularly, smothered on my cheery enthusiasm, and now i'm starting tomorrow.

J.K.I.