Surprise!

I'm currently sitting at the Starbucks on West Broadway. I am sitting in the only open seat that was not attached to a table occupied by one student diligently studying for the semester already. The seat is a chaise lounge which I have spied on previous occasions but never had the opportunity to sit in. If you think about it, having a chaise lounge is a really strange chair to have at this establishment. I mean, this really isn't the place for lounging in a sexy barely there dress with pouting lips and sexy tousled-as-if-this-were-a-bed hair, which are all things I automatically think of when I think "chaise lounge."

Either way, I am sitting on it. Ironically (?) I am wearing a dress and I curled my hair. My dress is all there; my leggings and boots cover my entire leg and I am wearing a sweater. My curls have pretty much deflated too. I do not feel sexy in any way. Probably because I'm too stressed out to really have any feeling beyond anxiety. I actually feel at angles with this Starbucks. Almost like I'm being sucked down and backwards, folding up from the middle. It's a weird feeling and I'm having trouble grounding myself in this moment with a foot on the floor. If it works for drunks, eh?

I digress.

So it's been ages since I've blogged (we've been here before, yes?). I have moved into my very own apartment and I now live with my two cats Max and Susie in a one bedroom number off a main drag in Columbia.

It's also a new year. I've only been in this apartment for a full week and few days. The reason I'm stressed out is because I might not have a job in three weeks. The VA has kind of fooked me big time. They've extended my position for 30 days, starting last week. They're trying to get this position opened up so I can apply for it before I leave. But honestly. There's no guarantee really, even though I've been told for days and days that I am "the one they want" but that's not necessarily reassuring anymore. So I'm doing the whole resume and application schtick.

More than that, I also feel lonely. I live alone with two cats. I miss Niki and JP. I miss seeing them (sometimes anyway) in the morning for a brief moment before leaving for work. I miss coming home and, after only a few moments in solitude, being able to make dinner or watch them make dinner before retiring to my room to watch tv or something. It's strange because if I really think about it I did spend a lot of time "alone" on Timbers. But it's completely different. I could always just walk downstairs and join the fireside chat or the watch party for How I Met Your Mother.

Since it's been so snowy in Columbia, I haven't even been able to just "drop by" (though I'd never do that. I mean, yes I have a key but it's way uncool to come by unannounced).

I was playing a little game earlier, alone while I watched The Usual Suspects on my laptop. Where would I be without Niki and JP?

1)I would have totally gone crazy and not graduated college. Seriously, without Niki, Reid's help would have been like throwing a stick into a river when the point is to make a dam (Translation for that weak metaphor: it would have been useless).

2) I would be locked into a lease at the 305. Now since I've decided I'm not moving to Portland, I guess that wouldn't have been the end of the world but honestly, had I decided to leave? I would have been boned. And cold with the erratic heat of Dumas. Not to mention I'm certain I would have fallen at least once, if not multiple times on the shoddily shoveled sidewalks/stairs of the complex. Seriously, think of the medical bills.

3) I would have never met and gotten to know the glorious residents of Timbers. The Van Dykes and Creachs have seriously helped me out of multiple jams, easing my transition to living alone tremendously. I'm pretty sure I'd only have two chairs and two plates if not for them.

4) I would have murdered someone by now. This also goes along with number 1. I would have a very small amount of sanity in me causing me to go off the deep end more than the few times I have already because of stupid things that always seem like mountains at the time.

5) I can distinguish the "truth" from the fiction and, even though it doesn't always help me from feeling bad or from feeling like I should do more, at least I know that what I'm feeling isn't because someone hates me or thinks I need to stop whining.

6) I wouldn't know about church and how it can make me feel better about myself just by going (this is something I've only just realized. I've gone to church for two weeks in a row. I missed today and I genuinely feel like I've missed out on something very important).

7) I know it's ok to ask for help. I guess I've known that for a while but I didn't feel like I was being needy for asking at 801.

8) I wouldn't know very much about the geography of Columbia beyond the downtown area. For real. Before I moved my life pretty much consisted of the 15 by 15 block square of campus and downtown.

The point is I'm 100% certain that I would have a very different future if I hadn't had the time I've had with Niki and JP. Living with them was fun, a learning experience, a loving experience. I've never seen so many dinner parties in one space in my life. Which was cool because it kind of put me out of my comfort zone. As we all know being uncomfortable is one of the few times anyone can really change or learn something new.

To end this belated post, I just need to say this: I really hope you meet someone who can really change your life for the better. I've been blessed enough to find two people who changed me, carried me when I felt I couldn't walk, nursed me back to health when I had too much "fun", taught me true, selfless generosity from their hearts.

The French Aren't All Bad

I don't really have anything extra special to blog about today. I just figured it's been a while and I'm not doing anything else so why not?

I've been doing a lot of Christmas shopping and lazing about these past few days. I've been enjoying the drink a bit too much and I have been listening to French music, at least in a round about sort of way. If you know me, you might know that I'm not a huge fan of the French in general, without real reason or cause. But really, some of the French music isn't terrible. I like it. Hey, the French can't get it all wrong.

I watched an interview of Joseph Gordon-Levitt on Youtube. It was excessively adorable and a bit strange. But it was an interview with Nylon magazine, which I think it kind of a strange publication; though in all honesty I have yet to read it. Either way, back to Mr. Gordon-Levitt. You might remember him as a shaggy haired teenager on 3rd Rock from the Sun or as the suave slicked back dreamer in Inception. I'll admit he caught my attention fully after Inception though I did enjoy his performance in 500 Days of Summer with Zooey Deschanel, a woman I love and hate at the same time. All that aside, in that interview with Nylon, Joseph mentioned that he likes women who speak French. Unfortunately I will never be one of those women. Not just because of my aforementioned distaste for French things. Languages are hard. I believe I should master Spanish, a language that people just assume I know because I happen to have more melanin than others, before I pick up any other languages.

All this got me to thinking, what kind of a woman do I want to be? I mean, I have already realized that I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up (which scarily is sort of right now, sort of not), but I have been thinking about what kind of lifestyle I want to have. I figure if I can manage that task first, in theory, I should be able to work from there to find a job that will allow me to live as I want to. But then again, this is all speculation. As is much of what comes out of my mouth and head.

Either way, I want to be a stylish, though not necessarily trendy, woman. I want to have good taste, in all things. I want to be knowledgeable of lots of things and passionate about a select few. I want to own clever things that are functional and aesthetically pleasing. I want to be able to create clever, functional things. I want to be able to give of myself freely, both in time and spirit.

I want to fall in love with a man who will love me despite the fact that I will be neurotic for all time, no matter how much I try to improve myself. I want to be the kind of woman that attracts a man that will happily surprise me. Someone who can handle my crazies but knows that I'm not really crazy, who will accept that I will almost always drop anything and everything I'm doing to go to the aid of my family. Someone who sees that as a virtue and not some annoying fault to correct or put up with. I want to fall in love with someone that I can just look at and know, not guess or hope but know, that being married to him will make my life better from that moment on.

So yea... I don't know how to be this person I imagine in my head. But I guess I can thank Joseph Gordon-Levitt for making me at least think about it.

More than Words

I have been listening to The Avett Brothers a lot lately. Their song "Paranoia in B Major" has kind of resonated with me these past few weeks. So here are the lyrics (I've bolded and italicized the parts that speak to me the most):

I keep tellin’ myself that it’ll be fine
You can’t make everybody happy all of the time.
I found myself in a place that I've never been;
A place that I thought that I would never be.
There’s people looking back at me

I keep having this dream: I’m at a party
There’s people throwing drinks and screaming, telling me that I don’t belong.
Lately life’s been the same; I find this comfortable place
With all my friends and then my friends start telling me that I’ve always been wrong
And I’m so tired of being wrong

There was a time I could move, there was a time I could breathe.
The crowded spaces filled with angry faces,
It didn’t once cross my mind.
With paranoia on my heels, will you love me still
when we awake and you find that the sanity has gone from my eyes?

I got secrets from you, you got secrets from me
Because you’re so worried about what I’m gonna think.
Baby I’m worried too.
But if love is a game, girl, then you’re gonna win.
I’ll spend the rest of my life bringing victory in
If you want me to.


Deer Tick's song "Art Isn't Real (City of Sin)" has also resonated with me.

I am the dotted line,
And you fill me in with whatever you like.
I am just going through the motions.
I need an old fashioned potion.
There has gotta be some old recipe.
'Cuz I gotta get drunk,
I gotta forget about somethings.

I lived in lies all my life,
And I've been living here for a long, long time,
And I know its been coming down a while now,
When it shows, then you get me on the dial,
But right now you're half way around the world,
Maybe I'll see better days, but I'm not so sure I will.
I'm still hanging round and round.
Sometimes it's a racket, but lately not a sound.
In the bowels of history and time,
I have learned to stay back and never shine.
Now I feel stupid when I smile.
For not a journey, a circus are our lives.

I can't make up for everything I waste,
And I know that I could never afford a taste,
Of anything that your lovely hands make,
It eats away before the soul brake.
Just because it brings a smile to my face,
such a bad memory, you just can't erase.

I know of a City to steal from,
And I know of a City to cheat on,
And I know of a City of Sin,
And that's the place I wanna meet you in,
And say hello all over again,
Romance me and take it back to the beginning.

Both songs speak to me because I have really felt lost these past few months. I'm not one for wafting around and pretending that I wanted to go to art school when pastry school didn't pan out made me slightly crazy. I guess I knew in my heart that I wasn't ready for art school and I'm pretty sure it's something that I'll never do. I just don't take it seriously. I mean, art is for me. Not for anyone else. Definitely not for someone else to judge (even though that's part of the viewing process). Maybe one day I'll be ready for that but it's not today.

Once I stopped ignoring the fact that I didn't feel like AI Portland was a place I could see myself taking classes in, I really didn't want to admit that I don't know anything, especially what I'm good at. I also didn't really want to come to terms with the fact that I won't love or want to keep the first job I have post college. I'm 23; there's time to figure out what I'm good at. I guess I'm not really that good at being uncomfortable and I have already had a few jobs that have made me wish my car broke down on the way in so I wouldn't have to go (despite the obvious headache that would accompany a broken car). I hated every minute of it and I don't exactly want to go back to that (but honestly, who would? Still people do it every day and for years!)

I guess it all goes back to the idea that I want to be the exception to the rule, not the rule itself. I wanted to be the one person that found out what they wanted to do with their life right out of college and, on top of that, found a good job (that paid well!) and actually was hiring. But no, that's not me and I'm certain that person doesn't exist.

Maybe the problem is that I'm good at lots of things and now it's time to choose something to do and there are just too many options. That sounds like a high class problem.

It's ok to have multiple jobs in a lifetime. It's even ok to be discontent, as long as it isn't forever. I'm just scared that I'll be discontent for the rest of my life and not even realize it.

Here's to the Future

I hate spraying air freshener and, because I have to walk through it on the way out of the door, end up smelling like "Tahitian flowers" when I emerge from the bathroom.

I appreciate the fact that I might be one of the only people who ever thinks about this more than a fleeting moment but it's something I think about every time I spray air freshener, which mean every time I feel like being kind after I poop.

I am currently sitting at the Columbia public library, listening to La Roux's "Bullet Proof." This song makes me think of England because La Roux always played at Sugarhouse and one of the girls definitely played at least one La Roux song every time they went out (read: every night of the week).

I have no idea where that intro thought came from; in all honesty I started writing this post about two weeks ago and that's where I started. Since then I have decided a few things. Most importantly: I am going to stay in Columbia and pay off my loans at a VA job. Well I just found out today that I do not qualify for the one job I am basically a shoe in for. Sigh. Such is life. On the upside, I have found at least five other jobs that I can apply for. Not to mention one other job at the VA. Of course the five other jobs are open right now. Not in three months like I want. But yea...I'm working on it. That said, I just turned in my deposit and application for an apartment. So I guess that part is covered. Unless of course I get turned down, which is entirely possible though unlikely.

I am suddenly freezing in here.

There is a heap of things that I'm meant to be doing. Most specifically, my art project because yes, I am still taking a class. I'd be a professional student but I'm actually ok with not going to class all the time or having homework. I mean I guess I do have that but it's entirely up to me at this point to do more work. I have finished one print (something that Chris said was flawless-shocking to me too) which really was the only thing I had to do for the class. That being said, I'd really like to make several more. I have ideas, but then again I don't really.

I hate Google Instant.


I feel excited about the future. I guess I'm excited about living on my own with my cats. I don't exactly want to work every day (or take classes for that matter) and I think it will be a challenge. I sometimes worry about how I'm going to make money but then I remember that I don't exactly have to love my job. I just need one. I can do that.

Working...?

Strangely, while I'm working I always think about things and get ideas for print or life issues get sorted/tangled. I think it's funny in a way. I mean I'm meant to be thinking about the task at hand but what I do is often repetetive and mundane so my mind has a chance and the ability to wander onto almost anything.

Time for a piece of truth:
I'm afraid to go to pastry school or art school because I'm pretty sure that I'm not really good at either thing. I'm scared of failing. Going to art school means I have to embrace art in a way I've never done before and I don't know how to. I'm scared that I'll continue to treat it as a hobby where everyone else treats it as life.
The honest truth is that I dont know what I want to do in my life and I'm pretty sure I'm not really good anything. Except maybe those mindless tasks I complete daily (if completion equals good).

Sidenote: (An update on the independently wealthy scheme) My roommate JP gave me some sound advice regarding marrying a wealthy man: Stop hanging out with artists.

I'll Let You Think That I'm Yours When I'm Not

So a lot has happened in the past week. Upon returning to work, I was greeted with an email of epic proportions: I needed to hand in the proof that I am a student. Well, no problem I thought. Just get that acceptance from AI Portland. Done.

...

Right, except AI Portland didn't listen to me and I was accepted for fall. Hm...how do I explain that to work? I know it says fall but classes don't actually start until January. Despite a phone call and an email requesting a phone call back or a fax with the correct info for work, Portland has yet to respond to me.

So I am a Mizzou student for one more semester. I am taking a one credit course with my amazing print teacher, the great Chris Daniggelis. It's an independent study print course and I am excited to be working again, both in print and at my actual job. I will spend the semester learning and pushing myself to make more and better things to strenghten my portfolio. Maybe I'll go to an art school in Portland.

I am still planning on moving to Portland. Whether I go to AI or somewhere else at this point is completely up in the air. But I'm glad for this time at Mizzou with Chris. I clearly need it.

School starts on Monday.

I'm Here for Liquor and Dessert

I'm 23 years old.

I've spent the last week at my mom's, watching my nieces. We have had fun. I love my nieces and I appreciate spending so much time with them.

That being said, I need to get the fuck out of here. Seriously. I can feel myself getting stuck here. Overspending (so much for the budget), wasting days doing nothing, not thinking about my future. I'm trapped in the same crap with my mom, arguing about nothing. My mom actually made me cry at dinner. My birthday dinner. It's stupid but true; she spent the entire dinner not talking to anyone. It was just me and my nieces. At 23, I cried. My feelings were hurt and I felt stupid.

She apologized the next day.

That said, my brother and sister are back in town tomorrow. I'll be out tomorrow night. Happy birthday me.