Oh, and there was an earthquake today - it was also supposed to be the Rapture, and to be honest, I was kind of hoping something would happen. Have been waiting for the baking system to collapse for a looong ass time, and when the house shook at about 7pm tonight I got a little tingly. But of course it was just a Caliquake, typical, but my first in this house. No angels, no fire, no brimstone. Sigh. I'm happy to go if the world ends, I have had a decent run and since the last couple years haven't been too productive, i'm ready to go. But I guess not. So: continue with the book idea and keep showing up to work. Maybe get another dog. At least until whatever day NEXT year it is that the world is supposed to end.
Again.
Also, shout outs from favorite DC drummer and ex-Roli New guy today, and of course, the delightful Arsenalboy so that was nice. Sad that the season is almost over, and not sure what I will do this summer to keep myself amused without a World Cup to organize my days by.
Ah well. Continue planning UK visit I guess.

So, it was inevitable that the Universe (or, The Life, as my good pal Dario calls it) would pair me up with a 25-year-old female vegan punk rock baker as my new coworker. Yep, it's as if every cliche I hoped to avoid has come crashing back. However, it's led to some interesting introspection on my part. Not that I haven't waxed on about how punk rock has evolved and become mainstream as I've watched it happen. Hell, I remember the first time I heard Green Day on the normal radio and was pretty sure I was hallucinating. Now, I mention that to the Vegan Bakeress (VB?) and she tilts her head like the RCA dog (wow, could I pack entries with more outdated references? sheesh), and doesn't quite understand how that could be earth-shattering.
No, not the damn music, the fact that there was actual punk rock being played on a normal radio station in a place of business. Granted, it was a Kinko's in Seattle (Capitol Hill no less, but still) but that it was followed in close order that week by the debut of a Bad Religion song about blew my doors off. Oddly though, the fact that it must have been old news by the time I heard them on the radio (as I really didn't listen to a lot of radio save for what used to be KCMU and is now KEXP) it still made be take notice. Our bands were getting played. Bands I'd played with. That it is normal for every little band to kick out into the stratosphere tells me something about the change in the Universe. What that change is, I'm still trying to wrap my head around. But it's odd. To hear VB talk about how she owns a house and is vegan and loves Henry Rollins. Then tells me how her "childhood idols" like Kev seconds are "fat and old." Childhood idols? I got a little tense and warned her not to take Kev's name in vain around me: her childhood idol? My frigging hero. Role model. Something like that. Then she shares her inside knowledge that Ian Mackaye (which she mispronounces, just like all good West Coast kids) once drank a beer. I can barely contain myself...and my mind wanders to years spent at d.c. space, reading MRR, playing crappy little shows, spending months of my life in vans....of group houses, and community center shows...of band arguments, practice space payments, and various retail jobs with other musicians. So much of my life, as we were living it, feeling so out of the loop, so outside of the norm, even in Seattle at times, unless you were on the Hill, it's amazing to me now how normal it all is. I'm still having a hard time putting it into words (having a hard time with that a lot lately. kids: don't do drugs) but there's a strange sense of achievement and disconnect. These kids, with their stretched earlobes and neck tattoos, having no idea of their own history. Of not knowing a time when being punk rock was not about a look or a style, but the lack of said thing. A quick browse of facebook or youtube and you look at old show videos from back in the day and you see such a cross section of types going to see shows, all unified by the fact that they simply didn't fit in anywhere else. As if punk rock was the Ferris Bueller of sub societies in youth culture. Now, thanks to the internet, everyone has a niche and they get to celerate it, but it makes me kind of sad too. There isn't a lot of romance in it. In trusting mailorders to europe, penpals you wrote to three times a week, writing letters at all. Buying actual records. Sitting and listening to them as you paged through MRR or Factsheet 5. I want to be more eloquent - I wonder how many other not-famous-but-once-active d.i.y punk adults are out there struggling with this. Why am I struggling? Shouldn't I be delighted? Stoked that we clearly made a difference at some point? Yet, Republicans still want to yank Planned Parenthood funding and reality TV is all the rage.
Progress?

So. The more things change, the more they stay the same. New kitchen and I'm settling in. It's an interesting set-up, we cook after the restaurant closes so it's just a couple of us bakers, and lately, just me & an intern, as my 25-year-old "boss" has taken a sick leave (and she's only been on the job for 3 mos), reminding me a lot of 5, and we know how that worked out. Better news still is that when my pal gets back from Germany, things could get even better, and the Manager of All Locations (let's call him: Mac) has already expressed interest in my gallettes. Which would be awesome, but right now, in production mode, I don't see it happening very easily. Plus, transportation could be an issue. Last night, all alone closing, I ran into a massive time crunch and realized I left a roulade in the freezer.But, you know what? I'm human, and at least nothing was burnt. Yeah. It's a good kitchen though, very SF MexiMafia, but I'm getting a feel for it. Not having my own transportation blows though, as I would have stayed as long as it took last night if I didn't have to catch that last train. Anyway, it appears so far so good. I just need to focus on shit. As per usual. Really miss the dog like crazy right now, but it's better she's not around really, because the hours are kind of crap. Well, actually, maybe not. She'd sleep all night anyway. Whatever. I'm just a little lonely. Had a brief discussion with CG while he was on the road, but it was, as per usual because he was lit up like a pumpkin. Many things were said and promised (as usual) and then 4 days later, he has no recollection of any of the conversation and texts me asking the same questions he asked when we spoke. Typical. Why I fall for this routine time and time again is just another indication of how useless that relationship is. Whatever. I know how I feel, I know what I believe in, and if I can just keep my standards to the level he instilled in me, that will be fine. It's perfect: he can't bury me at work anymore because he isn't there, but he can inspire me, because my recollection is obviously better than the actual product. So glad I'm not involved in the crazy chicken business. All those markets open, what a nightmare.
So glad to be done with that. Today: big production, long, long night, but then, I'm off!
Payday is tomorrow, but I think I will just leave it until Monday - better not to spend it anyway, yeah? Hope it's enough. Otherwise, back to the EDD.
Also, Schwartzenagger thing is funny. Once upon a time I would have written an entire post just on that. I'm kind of glad they are getting divorced, as I never believed in that marriage to begin with, and his inability to honor it is pretty classic. It's amazing that no one seems immune to having shit fall apart.

Aaaaannnnd, seven days later I'm fired. Over a disagreement about my management of CG, but ultimately, about Boss not liking the way I work, or more to the point, the way I interact with him in conjunction with the fact that I'm not a desk jockey of any merit. So when he told me to leave, I did. I probably shouldn't have, from a purely financial standpoint, but, emotionally, I was a disaster and getting worse. I couldn't focus. In fact, in record time (as usual) I found myself in a kitchen again via a pal I made while managing hot dogs, and my almost 3 years of random drifting has clearly taken a toll on my ability to focus. Which is ridiculous, because I literally HAVE NOTHING else to think about, and I'm still doing stupid, stupid shit. But tomorrow will be better. It's just amazing how far removed I feel from everything, and that I let so much stuff frigging blow my plan. At any rate, I just need to DO this for a while, get back in the swing of things. Realize that the 5 years I had of "dues paying" really wasn't. I wrote mostly my own check and got really fricking lucky so now it's go time. Production Go Time. I just can't help but wonder if CG is now comparing notes with Boss on what it's like to try and work with me because I'm so "intense". Whatever. Intense. As if. I never felt comfortable in that job and it simply was not getting any better no matter how hard i tried to do things. Sure, he was kind, on the back of being a total jerk, but whatever. Now it's an almost all-female group (!) and it seems like it will be ok. I hope. Yeah.

This is the part where I regurgitate the feel-good platitiudes...sorry, affirmations. One day at a time. Keep your head up. When a door shuts a window opens. Nothing good comes easy. Through pain, we understand what joy is (I kinda free-formed that one), etc. Not gonna lie. It's been a rough week. Two weeks. Month? Even an awesome pen pal can't take the sting out of a soul-sucking job. There is light at the end of the tunnel (ooh, another one), maybe. Have been launching resumes out at a steady clip, trying to get back into a kitchen. Not gonna wimp out this time. Gonna go for it. Might be getting it through a contact I made at the hot dog thing. So I don't suck. Which is nice to remember, because I have felt totally like the peasant standing in the river as it rises to just at her nose...she can't swim, because the water might cover her. She just tries to stay in place while it flows past, hoping it doesn't rise any further. It's going to get worse over the summer if I stay here and Owner2 has made it clear he has no confidence in me. Maybe I should have fought harder for the festival today, but ultimately, why? So I can watch it go to hell? Sure a victory would be nice, but I'm kind of at a cut-my-losses stage. They won't fire me, and that's their mistake. I won't just storm out, and I will fucking milk it if i have to. Because ultimately, I'm alone, I have to look out for myself. So many moral issues I have. So many tedious issues. The saddest part is having CG come into the place, and I won't be able to stay. But that's part of it too - it breaks my heart to be around him. Again. All the scar tissue that had formed is gone, and it's just another raw nerve to go with the trauma of hot dogs, the death of the real dog and the loneliness of being so far from family and other than the big K2, friends who really know me.
I miss Seattle. Though if I take another new job I'm not going anywhere. Crap. i really wanted this to work, but it hasn't ever felt right. At all. MUST make it right.

Dammit. When I say i love food, i'm not kidding. i love making it, eating it, shopping for it, reading about it, breaking it apart, and hell - it turns out, i even kind of like serving it (matt and christian are spinning uncontrollably; not in their graves, but possibly in place, as I type this. i am, in Mia Zapata's famous refrain "NOT a (server)". But yeah. it's becoming crystal clear to me, with the help of CG in his reprisal of the role of "Chef Guy" that I need to get back with the food. Sweet or savory, but as I waxed on about my Caprase at Lantana, seriously, I missed it. I miss building those salads every night. As I spoke the words I felt this low-level rush of adrenaline. of that push of service, that joy of Craig coming back to tell me how blown away the table was. How I KNEW it ruled., When you finish a plate that is spectacular - I fucking miss that sooooo much, and cannot express it to anyone other than CG, and he can't hear it , because his life is so much more complicated now. Which I get, and which is good, in that his razor sharp anger isn't targeting anymore, and that is nice. I like him so much now. It makes going through all the nonsense before ok, and I'm glad, because all I ever wanted was to work with him on a level playing field. And we are almost there. Maybe. if I don't get all dragged into some sort of crazed pen-pal relationship with a guy I might just talk to on the phone for the first time soon. It's all so "Gavin & Stacy" but subbing out the Tottenham for Arsenal, and the Wales for the Bay Area. Odd, but ok, I guess. It's gotta happen somehow. I just...am torn, and can't talk to my old pal in the F-no right now. It's outside that realm, and she's seen me fall so many times, I don't want her to offer solace. I need to do this without her, though it's odd to even type that, much less accept it as fact.
I'm aware I'm self-involved, and when we broached the "mama" issue in a drive-by conversation today, fucking CG was ON. It was amazing. Where he would have previously pounced for blood he let it go. Awesome. Aces. Him=happy, pretty awesome. Him with the SwissTasmanianDevil for a week - who knows? Whatever, just keep gettin up every day. When I told him my brother told me to "keep my head up" he had an interesting repsonse, and it made me hesitate.
I'm amazed at the caliber of people I get to meet. Sure, sometimes it takes a bit to get to them, but it's never uninteresting. Currently dealing with my Commissary manager, A, and things are taking an odd turn. If it was the A(dolpho) from Lantana, I might understand.
Wait. Maybe it is. Wife, Kids, christian. Blow job in the walk-in next? Yikes. See, you can't make this shit up, and I need to get back to work on the manuscript. Or spec script? Hrm....

It's true - I don't watch the news anymore. Not even CNN (which used to be on continually when I was dating SMRGE, though we toned it down when the child came to live with us...oh, so much of that gawdawful japaneseinspired cartoon tripe...what was her name? can't remember now, but it will come to me shortly, surely *sailor moon, it's name was sailor moon). But I do watch the Daily Show, which is like news, but with my filter on, so that's nice. And, of course, Jon Stewart is DREAMY. More dreamy than Cesc, yes. Right. So. I've been absent for most of the Libya debacle, save for the moments when my INSANE swiss boss starts using it as a metaphor for management styles. Holy crap. I literally stood back and let my internal monologue go into great detail as he rambled on, and on, and on. It was a typical anti-American screed. Which always makes me smirk because HEY! SWISSGUY! WHERE YOU LIVE NOW?...WHY??? if it's so goddamn great elsewhere (and of course, you'll get no argument from me, christ, if I could figure out a way to decamp to anywhere in Europe and live, I would be on the first plane out of here) GO. I am tired on the constant berating of my poor, sad countrymen (and of course, women). Tired of your ridiculous ethnic tirades, especially about the Mexicans who are the backbone of your company. Seriously. You, and your ridiculous Japanese wife, need to stop with the racial slurs already. It is going to come to a point where I will have to draw a line. I am already feeling a moral twinge, and it's getting worse. You calling people by your secret "Jalapeople" name isn't helping. You enabling flawed Kenyans, is only making it more painful. You treating me like a small chimp with cymbals is irritating, and makes me wish, for the first time in 7 years, that I'd never left reprographics. Nice work, Swissguy. Nice work
Wait, this was going to be about my lack of media consumption. Ah well. What I should actually write about is the guy, locally, who is hanging the "Free Leonard" signs in my area. The guy who I hope will be back on the overpass once the weather improves. The guy who is still committed to the fight. I mention it because I miss being committed to something, to change, to helping change come about. I almost feel like I'm not sure how to make it happen anymore, I'm so consumed and depressed by all these people having babies and turning the world in on itself on themselves, so that everything is about them, the wonder of their child.
And it seems they lose sight of the rest of the world. Which I guess is how it goes. And it means I need to remain sober and vigilent becuase who the hell else will? How does this work now>

I forget sometimes. That I have experienced some amazing stuff, come across some individuals who have touched me, and in turn, have let me know that I have touched them. I am a habitual leaver of people, of contact, of assuming that less is more, or that if they aren't reaching out to me, they don't want to be reached....yeah. What's got me on this tangent? A little light housekeeping (as, let's be honest LIGHT housekeeping is really the only kind I do) had me sorting through cds, and I found a compilation that Peter, the Lantana bartender had made for me. Now. I'm a sucker for mix tapes, and in this millennium have learned to accept cds as a reasonable (barely) facsimile. I love that I know how to spell facsimile because I worked at Kinko's. I gained so much from those years...
Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, Peter. He of the knowing glance and stories from volunteering in Tanzania, though, like so many of us misfit toys who ended up at Lantana, he was docked in Fresno for the moment. We had a good rapport (as I recall - though it's misty, I was pretty constantly pickled through much of that experience; including, but not limited to the evening of our official opening, when I was so literally hung over that I found myself on all fours on the brand new tiles of the women's restroom hurling my guts out, and staggering back to my station to work the shift pale and shaking, but finished it nonetheless. Imagine how amazing my work would have been, had I been sober).
Yeah, so, Peter. He was forever playing amazing samba and latin jazz stuff in his 2001-space odyssey bar. It struck me particularly because I had worked with a guy from Brazil (or so he claimed) named Fernando at a record store called Nobody Beats The Wiz when I was in WDC. Fernando wore a slick eurotrashy suit to work every day and sold cds like a mofo to yuppies who wandered into our Georgetown store during their lunch. In the passing hours of the day he introduced me to everyone from Sade to Gilberto Gil. it was awesome, and as has often been the case in my musical education, I learn best from people who are passionate about what they listen to. To the point of even listening to and appreciating TOOL, but that is another story altogether.
The pre-service trips through the bar I would make - generally to communicate the specials of the day, as I reigned over both appetizers and desserts and took an odd and bizarre pleasure in making sure the front of the house could explain my shit, were always punctuated by a lively conversation with Peter where he, like Ryan and a few others, would quiz me about the food. My compatriot, the Executive Chef, the delightful Ray, wasn't quite as intense about that, though he was certainly intense about his food and getting it done. He also looked great in his whites.
Again, another story for another time. My point, if there is one, is that there was a cadre of young males (my favorite demographic, in case that was in doubt...) that were interested in food, and looked to me as their source - and, while I had only so much experience, what I lacked in actual miles logged I had more than made up for in passion and an adaptability with recipes. I tweaked the hell out of everything I was curious about: French Laundry ideas? Yup. Chez Panisse inspired? Yup again. Both Ray and I were skating along, making it up as we went, and getting away with it for quite a while (well into a year plus before I bailed), and honestly, all I was trying to communicate to the FOH boys was my passion for amazing food, great produce, for caring about what you do versus the shit you sling at Claim Jumper (not that it's bad to do that, after all, you gotta pay the rent sometimes, but for us, then, it was all I lived for, and since I couldn't be working at those dreamy restaurants, I was bound and determined to create the experience for myself, as best I could anyway). It worked, and Peter seemed quite taken with my rabid devotion to the farmer's markets, and made me several cds of the Brazilian music he favored. Later, when I moved on from Lantana, he gave me a fantastic book about heirloom tomatoes (the holy grail for me, which I expressed eloquently in a fantastic caprase that still makes my heart swell, just thinking about how beautiful those plates were, how fantastic they tasted....argh). So I was reading his inscription to me in the book and it, like so many similar things made me wonder about subtext, about my inability to act on things. There was an amazingly drunken evening that finished at his house - I awoke in a room I could barely remember being in, and I was alone...it was typical of the time. We were so close all of us, when the restaurant started, and then like so many relationships it all fell apart. Ah well.
I still have the book, the cds and warm thoughts again.
I was going to wax on about the significance of mixtapes/cds, but maybe next time. You know, I've only made one for anyone else (CG, of course) - didn't even make one for SMRGE...but have had many made for me. Kind of miss music as communication. Remembering now the FOH guy at Pangea who until he heard me listening to the Get Up Kids while prepping one afternoon, kind of hated me a bit because I was pretty rough on him - and he immediately opened up, and a day later came in with not one, but 3 cds for me. Funny, really. When I get all wigged out about being alone, and about not being very successful with personal interactions (which is easy to do when everyone you have an actual relationship with ultimately leaves you and goes on to find their actual soul mate & true happiness, and yet you continue on, wondering what the hell it will take to understand the reality of what is going on around you...) it's good to remember that some people do dig you, or HAVE dug you. That every now and then, you'll get a phone call from a long lost pen pal, or an email from someone you love a ton but think has forgotten you...it's why I keep getting up every morning, even though my dog is gone and my job is lacking and I'm struggling to find that outlet, that thing that will let me fly again. Or something like that. If you've never lost, never hurt, never failed, how can you know what success feels like, right?
Yeah.

Turns out i'm still a pretty good pen pal. Arsenal fan and now new pen pal (ok, not pens, but email, but it's the same sort of exchange, and we do actually send packages in the mail too - which is awesome and fun) Simon is all that's keeping me in the mix right now. Haven't mentioned it to anyone, seems a little goofy. i mean, sure, I'll tell my best pal, but otherwise, it'll stay on the DL (except for shouting it here, into the ether!) until it manifests itself. But for now, he's funny, smart, loves Nasri & Sagna, lives not far from Emirates, and...at least in the photos, nice to look at. Haven't spoken on the phone yet, and I'm completely happy about that. In no hurry, enjoying the flirting, the mystery, the discovery. That part where everyone unloads all their baggage in one longwinded night, that's bullshit, and I'm glad for there being thousands of miles for now, something to look forward to is good now. It's what I need, because I'm floundering here and need something to take me outside of that seems to be this spiral. My goal is to meet, there, not here.
Not here, not now. There, not too far from now, though.
*sigh*

It was a whim. Like most things I do, it was impulsive, and the immediate rush when I received a phone call 7 minutes after sending off my resume clearly blinded me. Or, I have effectively lost any and all ability to focus. To set goals. To fucking STUDY, and PREPARE. Jeezus. I had to call back within 5 minutes because I realized I had neglected to remember the caller's name, being so blown away by her immediate response. So, that clearly set the tone. I tried to convince myself last night that it wasn't a big deal; "Well, at least she'll think I'm honest and can admit if I've left something out or don't know something." But tonight, at the interview. Who have I become? Stammering, unable to string together coherent thought, unable to effectively communicate what desserts I like to make most? What inspires me? What doughs CAN I make? She says "pate brisee?" and I fumble around like a 15-year-old at her first kegger. Pathetic. Then, have the temerity to say what I want out of my job is to "be happy" jesus christ, that would put the fear of god into any interviewer, me especially? WARNING: highly combustible ego ahead. Yeah. Top that mountain of shite off with a ridiculous monetary demand (which isn't, really, or shouldn't be, but in Berkeley where surely there will be a 26 year old with 4 housemates who can live on $12 an hour, i'm toast). I felt it going down the drain as it was happening and began grasping at straws, but she let me down gently. I don't expect to be asked back to stage, and so, all I can do now is to take this experience into the next one. PS jackass, don't just BRING your book, REVIEW it. Prepare for the interview for the love of Kevin Second's mother!! On that note though, she did seem to be amused that I was in a punk rock band for 15 years. Yeah, big whoop. I am going to die alone in the gutter, penniless, wishing to god I spent less time reading twitter and more time in the sun. What the hell is wrong with me?
Also, back on the wagon again. Well, mostly. No spirits, and am 2 beers away from being clean and serene, AGAIN. Well, clean at any rate. serene? yeah, got one day of SRM in before that went to hell. Tried to meditate in the morning, and all it did was almost make me fall asleep on the drive in. Nonsense, it's all nonsense. Also, should have accepted the offer of a sandwich from potential employer. WTF? I just didn't want any of them to have to make me anything. Ah well. Nice neighborhood though - I suspect it's where my boss and his delightful japanese wife & child live. Ack. how awkward would THAT be?

Ok, so that was getting things off to somewhat of a morose start last night, but what the heck. So. We've got apocalypse stuff going on all over the world, and so I'm taking refuge in British sitcoms, and British football. That's right, I'm gonna be that girl. If I lived in England, it'd be really scary, but luckily (?) I don't, so it's just a mild obsession, though, granted, one that doesn't have a really positive outlet. That is, that I could physically attend games with other humans, go to pre- & post- match gatherings. As it is, I can only join other american fans for live broadcasts in pubs at 7am. Which is excellent on matchdays i don't work, and was wonderful for the first part of the seeason at my other job when I was typically off on Tuesday and Wed, both midweek days that games usually were broadcast at 11:30am - Guiness for lunch and breakfast - how can you not love a game like that? sadly, I changed jobs, and rarely am free on a matchday, and don't have enough seniority to be able to duck out. Boohoo. Anyway, the boys (the Adorkables, check //kickette.com for more fun stuff like that) are having a rough go at the moment, but I hope to be able to ramp up some useful commentary soon. Currently, I'm still pretty new to the whole endeavor, and so I refrain from a lot of ranting.
Leaves time for the whining about my job, and being lonely in the Bay Area, as well. Yeah.
So anyway, British TV. Liked Skins more than I should have (being as I'm 3x the age the target market is, but so well-written, hard to pass up - plus: teen binge drinking and drug use, how is that not entertaining? Plus also, british teen slang, yay! So there's that. gavin & stacy, of course. And then Peep Show, which then led inexplicably to a barrage of Brit panel quiz show - the most epic starring one of my favorite Gooners, Alan Davies. So that's fun. And of course, regular doses of Top Gear (oh, the Hamster makes me all gooey!) and an older show, Green Wing, that features two of the main actors in the new show Episodes. Yeah. Loving it. Loving the fact that "fuck" is used easily, that slang is creative, and everyone, even dim soccer players like John Terry sound more intelligent with an accent. Better still are the international players, like my favorite, Bac, who are, say french, but have adopted britenglish. Love it!

in memory of Hopey

Just a quick note to try and jumpstart this brogmess....still miss the dog, and though insensitive jerks who try and tell you that certain forms of life are more valuable and meaningful than others - here's what I know: that dog became a part of my life, intrinsically when she was 7 weeks old, 17 years ago next month. I spent her entire life with her (save about 3 weeks when i was away, when she either stayed with my mother, or with my housemate, but never in a kennel); walking her for real twice a day, playing with her every day, rain or shine, horrific life circumstances or no. She was with me when my father died, when I got married, when I got divorced, when I was diagnosed with cancer, when I received my DUI, and every other epic moment. She was the bridge that transported me from one life to another. And now, she is gone. You can think that her life was worth less than that of a child, but for me, she was the center of my world, and to lose her is still heartbreaking, almost 5 months later, I can barely write words without completely dissolving into tears. I write this for everyone who has chosen not to have children because they wanted circumstances to be ideal, and understand that to take responsibility for another being (canine, human, or otherwise) is a real and honest undertaking.
Yes you can leave a dog alone in a house. People do it to kids all the time too. It's not rightin either case. We should celebrate everyone who values companionship, responsibility and love. Let's stop belittling people who have chosen not to have kids as not "experiencing the greatest joy in the world" - there are great joys for everyone, and that definition is limiting and often hurtful.
I'm sick of watching people blunder into parenthood and then lord it over others, when those of us who have chosen not to follow that path have to constantly explain themselves, as if we are defective.
Anyway. This morning, I miss Hopester more than ever, her wise acceptance and steely perseverance is missed night and day. I am glad she is out of pain, and hope that soon, the pain of being without her will fade as well.

Wow. It goes from surreal to just plain silly. New job, and hitting at a very intense time, and as always in food service (i'd say the kitchen, but in this instance it's at "the cart" every little thing makes you (ok, me) feel like the biggest jackass every. doesn't help with micro managing bosses (though, and i think this is a reflection on how far i've really come) you know yer gonna get shit for dumb stuff all the time. the thing that always really pisses me off, is, of course, nepotism. especially when other people, who are merely temping get all full of themselves, which brings me to my other point: wait, it's still favoritism. Yes, the woman who's known the boss linger, yet makes the same bullshit mistakes i do (worse, she really botched the tickets at the end of the shift) doesn't even get a blink, but i get a severe lecture on slicing buns ("perfectly in the middle") ((a: as if anyone ever does them all that way and b: buns are not static. some are warped thicker at one end, etc. NOT ALWAYS GONNA BE PERFECT. New boss though is the king of personnel, and his little asides and tone of voice and phrasing isn't helping: i know he's pissed, but he, unlike others, really undestand tdamin servers.The power of phrasing and communication. so that's cool.
Also, tips are nice.
Meanwhile, while I get all pissy about work, let's change topics to something better: namely that my pals Michelle and Kyle from KMK, Felix (from the Vinyard FM) and even DARIO (that's adam to me but Dario! for effect stopped by. That part was tragic, because Adam is like family almost and it killed me to not be able to hang out with him. But anyway, at least i got the hug (and some arm squeezes, and there was an awkward moment of almost kissing. strange. yeah.

Just for old time's sake (and to give a break to the whining i've been prone to lately, the Five:
. What do you do for a living?
I am a cook at a shelter for homeless and abused kids.

2. What do you like most about your job?
I am able to combine my love for cooking with an intense desire to do something to help others in need.

3. What do you like least about your job?
Being a non-profit means paying a less-than-living-wage at this point.

4. When you have a bad day at work it's usually because _____...
there's been a lack of planning by management, but honestly, i haven't had a BAD day yet.

5. What other career(s) are you interested in?
Photographer for National Geographic, of course!

and then it all turns to shit, and quickly. i bought the whole long-distance i love you thing, until i found his personal ad. what a cliche. calling me all the names he is in fact living up to right now. he doesn't love me. doesn't care about me. and once again i am in a monetary hole, and alone. how is it that i keep doing this over, and over? dunno. better job with no real pay right now, but that looks sketchy. dunno how to pay for school, and well...it is all almost too much to even write about anymore. again.

whatever happens now, happens. it seems good, the way things seem to be finally making sense, as if all the pain and drama and confusion are finally distilling into something concrete. but, ultimately, what it comes down to, as it often does, is my self esteem. the confidence to keep on in the face of my entire life just blowing apart is not just character building, but solid proof that I can do whatever i set my mind to do. the key is deciding what to do.
right now, SMRHE is off rocking. wish i was too, but then, also, having a new life is promising. might have a new, scary challenging job. that would allow me to save up. to go to school, to go to europe, to...go. and that's what i want to do - GO.
p.s. bill murray still rules the school.
oh, and my fresno scene report was well recieved by j, which bodes well for the future, i think. i've been here before, it's not so bad.

For a minute there, I saw daylight. Went to the 'Nats show as a final live show in a populated area before begining the long, cold, isolation excercise that has become my month east before heading south. It was a good show, though I took *Courtney* with, as she was the only person willing to brave the Croc on a Thursday. So that was kind of a drag, but it went okya, because after a couple of mixed signals, I coughed up the courage to approach SingerGuy and to make contact and it was good, and positive, and led to a sprited email exchange which naturally came to a screeching halt as soon as i mentioned the hurling/ridicule part of our night together. Damn MCWDITW, swear. And now I'm going back and forth about emailing a follow-up, but am certain that if i email it will look even more pathetic and desperate, so i guess i just leave it like i leave everything else. i mean, what to do? didn't go to the xmas party show as i was here in exile. am struggling with SMRGE and my feelings about this seperation. I want so much to be civil and understanding, but everywhere around me is anger at him. I don't even know really if i DO want to ever get together again, because ultimately, even if we do have so much in common - he's lying to me about receiving my emails and probably about the letters too - and i can't confront him about it, because, well a) im not supposed to know this and b) what's the point, beyond: hey he's lying to you to remove the responsibility of writing to you so THINK about that goof.
yeah. think about it. it's hard not to when it's all you've got time to do.
right. i lost my focus this weekend, ate enough to see on the scale (ulp) and so i need to get back into the zone.
also, the Eugene contingent is scary and rabid and a little troubling, but i'll bring it up with ken so that nothing is a huge suprose. he'll understand a quick SMRGE-reduction excercise - though if Xmas goes as i expect (will it? will anything go as planned ever again?) then i might not want to wipe that away - just like i didn't want UberEx to be the last taste in my mouth, i dunno if i want the Mistake I Made re:drummer in rad band i could have been with in seattle to be the last one i make.
y'know, writing in code blows. i don't know if i use the names if it will get hits, but after the diaryland escapade i'm scared.
ok, more blather later.

Woo, I'm soaking in it! Yeah. Not all that happy yet to be back in the pool of uncertainty, but paddling along nonetheless...and about ready to cuddle up to the new 'Nats cd for a good long time - it's definitely going to be the soundtrack for my transition. Painful, bittersweet, all of that. They play on the 21st (or sometime that weekend) and i think i would like to make that my last live show for a while - sure it'd be nice if it were a Juno show, but that isn't going to happen, so I'll go for the next best thing, possible collisions with the past be damned. I need to hear those new songs live. Then move on.
It's so hard for me right now, and as much as i want to talk to the people around me who care - my mom, k&k, my brother (well both of them, it appears - who knew mark would care so much? i bet he'd pound SMRHE into the ground if i said the word...weird) - but right now - i just feel so deeply sad. this is all such a bad move, but in my heart i knew there were big problems, and his constant declarations of unconditional love...weren't. And mine? mine were - at least as far as made to the person i thought he was. but now - and god, i hate that it's such a goddamn cliche...but it wasn't what i thought it was. i had clues, but ignored them, and in so doing, let a lot of this shit happen. i knew his heart is lost to the past (is mine?)...maybe we ARE too much alike to be able to function as a unit. I think we are going to have to get a divorce and that kills me. i knew it. knew it, knew it.
so sad. confused, and most of all: tired. i need a month off again. and then, it all starts new. again.
i am so very tired of reinventing my life. why can't i just be...just be. one last appointment (probably) with dr.s today, and then who knows what happens next.

So, yeah, it's really going to happen. Yikes. Meanwhile, let's commence with the Five:

1. What food do you like that most people hate?
Most people...tough, 'cause i like lots of things, but the thing that usually gets the most attention is eating whole tomatos like apples, i guess. i also quite like wasabi, but loads of people do now.

2. What food do you hate that most people love?
I am not a big fan of corn, except as a very fresh ear, or as polenta. Bot kernal corn - ick.

3. What famous person, whom many people may find attractive, is most unappealing to you?
Yeah, I'm not getting Justin Timberlake. He looks like Screech to me.


4. What famous person, whom many people may find unappealing, do you find
attractive?
Gosh, I dunno - Kevin Smith?


5. What popular trend baffles you?
The girls wearing their thong underwear out above the pants...don't get that or the whole belly hanging over everywhere thing.

Well, this very well may come alive yet, as i'm about to launch myself, once again into a new life, courtesy of the Slightly-Less-Rockin'-Than-I-Thought-Husband-Ever's realization that he needs to go relive his nightmare of 10 years ago and try to change the result. I, having nursed him through 3 years of self-examination and attempts at helping fix the situation, just can't go along with the program this time. thus, he will be staying in this city, and i will hit the road. first to ellensburg, to give some facetime to my mom through the holidays, and then headin' south to Fresno to enjoy the sun and fun of actually living in a place where i've got some real, non-substance abusing friends. woohoo. maybe back to school. maybe just another graphics job, but either way, i'm pulling up the stakes, packing the tent and hauling the dog&ponytail show back on the road dammit. i've been here too long anyway. truth be told, i really did have delusions of doing this with my husband, but cest la vie, yeah?
so on to the pointless drivel:
1. What was your first Halloween costume?
Photographic evidence reaveals woody woodpecker, or possibly a bizarre fairy-ish get up, depending on the age of the photos. earlier than that, i have no recollection of, and my parents didn't go in for putting babies in costume.

2. What was your best costume and why?
I was Hobbes, and Mike was Calvin. It was perfect (though i was a bit of a rounder hobbes than one might envision) because it fit our demeanors and physical appearance (except mike was taller, but otherwise it worked) and i made my tiger suit: i dyed a union suit orange and painted stripes on it, and then did a little makeup thing with my face - i think the only fucked up part was the ears - i don't think i had the ears going on, but it was great fun. i even stuffed and made a tail, and had the best time frolicking about the party (a party full of senate interns, it ruled!) more tigger than hobbes by the end of the evening.

3. Did you ever play a trick on someone who didn't give you a treat?
No. But my brother was all about that.

4. Do you have any Halloween traditions? (ie: Family pumpkin carving, special dinner before trick or treating, etc.)
tend to avoid it altogether now.

5. Share your favorite scary story...real or legend!
hurmpph. don't really have one.