Day 153-- Secrets of a Publishing Intern

And so I was standing there in front of the crowd, awkward as hell along with other fresh graduates, with the parents in the seats asking us what we were going to do after college with an English degree.  I wanted to vomit with nerves and inadequacy and when it was my turn to answer the daunting question I said, "I'm moving to the beach.  I'm going to get a great tan and freelance stories and articles.  Mainly get a tan."

The truth was that I was terrified of the future, and in my flimsy cap and gown I wondered how the fuck I was going to make it into world of heels and skyscrapers of book publishing.  That was May.

Flash-forward to October and I was walking around downtown San Diego, wearing a short blue peacoat, with the the latest City Beat in one hand, a Starbucks in the other, my iPod playing some Black Keys in my ears, and I was the intern for the biggest publisher in the city, spending my time there reading manuscripts and doing social media promotion.

It's not always glamorous being an intern, but sometimes, it's the best fucking job in the world. Here are a few secrets of being an intern in the book publishing industry. 

Secret #1.) Don't Dress Better Than Your Boss

I wrote a post earlier this year about Post-College Fashion and was more than excited to wear my pencil skirts, wrap-around shirts, and black heels for my first post-college job.  Well, my boss was more of an old faded mom jeans kind of lady.  Actually, almost everyone was a jean and t-shirt person aside from D--, who used to work at a bigger publisher and wore short heels and a skirt most days.  Needless to say, no one really liked me until the seasons changed and I dropped the heels for ballet flats and  my skirts for nice jeans.  Lesson learned: don't dress better than your boss.

Secret #2.) Publishing internships are hazardous to your health

Publishing internships are not paid, which means you need to bust your ass at a second job to make up the money difference.  With the internship plus a job, I was working a 52-hour week for about a month until I dropped down to 45 hours.  I've fought off colds, bladder infections, a bad diet on the run, and a pissy mood towards people from lack of a break.  Try to take your vitamin pills the moment you're hired.

[Open] Secret #3.)  There isn't money in publishing

On my first day of my internship one of my co-workers flat out told me that there isn't money to be made in publishing.  During my tenure there, we had a pizza party when we actually made profit for the first month in a long time.  Yikes.  Furthermore, they couldn't pay their employees more than 40 hours a week, so if one of them worked a book signing for 4 hours at night, they would have to come in 4 hours later the next day.  One of my co-workers revealed that she only makes $10 an hour, which is a little more than a coffee shop job and the same amount as my front desk job at the hotel.

Secret #4.) Regional publishers have more heart

I worked at a regional press which means their books are more San Diego/Baja themed and they only produce about 6 books a year.  To make up for the lack of funds at the press, my publisher had more heart.  Authors would spend the night at my co-workers' houses to save money on hotels, the book buyers have been friends for decades, we picked up one author at the Mexican border to save him the trouble at the check-points, three of us applied stamps to 400 postcards to bookstore advertising our latest book, and each book produced has to be approved by everyone. People in the book industry truly honestly deeply care about books.  There's no other reason to be in this game 'cause it ain't for the money.

Secret #5.) You have to be an optimist to be in publishing (and have to like ebooks)

As I said, money just isn't really in publishing so you have to be a real optimist to keep going.  Our work office was sort of cubicle-designed with a door in the back that led to a huge warehouse of books.  You really had to believe that those books would sell one day, so part of my job was promoting them via social media, like having Twitter feeds and Facebooks statuses about our books (like trivia or quotes).  Most books signings only sell 2-10 books so you can't be discouraged when you set one up, and every time I walked around the building to tell people to come on in for a signed book, I couldn't be offended when people told me 'no'.  

One of the last projects I did for my internship was to create spreadsheets which included information of all of the independent booksellers in the US so we can send postcards and information to them when we get a new book with the hope they'll order some.  And while everyone in the office more or less hated ebooks because they adore the feel, smell, and sound of an actual book, we had to stay up-to-date turning our books into ebooks.  You need to survive in this industry.  And while pragmatism is absolutely key not to go bankrupt, if you don't have hope, you couldn't be in this business to begin with.

Secret #6.) You will fall deeper in love

After working in publishing, I know for sure now that it's what I want to do for a career.  There is too much of a high when a new book comes in to walk away from this.  I love seeing the design process, and reading the manuscripts before the public gets to read it, and meeting these authors who range from astute professors, to gentlemen of leisure, to nervous half-writers/half-some other job, to funny old men who have some time on their hands and become historians of the region.  Publishing is about making someone else's dream come true--and I can't think of a better job than that. :)

Day 149-- Halloween Caramel Apples recipe

Prologue: 

The best part about the holidays is making food you'd never make for yourself on a boring Wednesday in the middle of June.  Case in point: caramel apples.  These little suckers are fucking delicious and indulgent, and amazing gifts to give to your friends, co-workers, or neighbors (just as long as you keep that extra sprinkles one for yourself).

 

Halloween Caramel Apples

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook time: in all, 2 hours

Servings: 8

Ingredients:

8 small Granny Smith apples

8 wooden sticks (like skewers or Popsicle sticks)

1 bag of caramels

1 bag of chocolate chips

-toppings options-

*sprinkles

*white chocolate

*M&Ms

*marshmallows

*chopped nuts

*cinnamon

*ect.

Directions:

1.)  It's important to get your toppings ready first and foremost.  Get out little bowls and fill them with your M&Ms, Reeses Pieces, sprinkles, nuts, ect. It's also handy to get out cookie sheets and line with wax paper that you've sprayed with some non-stick oil (like Pam). 

2.) Unwrap the caramels and put in a medium pot on medium heat.  Add two teaspoons of water to help the consistency of the melting caramel and stir occasionally.  Meanwhile, wash your apples and slide in a stick through the tops of each one.  You'll want the stick almost all the way through.

3.) Either dip the apples into the caramel or spoon caramel over the apples until entirely coated aside from the bottoms.  Place on the greased wax paper.

4.) (a) If you are planning to add another coat to the apples, place the caramel apples inside of the refrigerator for 30 minutes to an hour to harden completely. (b) If you are planning on using toppings that are heavier, like candy pieces and marshmallows, wait until the caramel is almost completely hardened before you stick them onto the apple.  I'm horrible impatient and the result are caramel apples with candy pieces that fall down to the bottom of the apple.  Anyway, once you've stuck the pieces to the caramel apple, place the apples back into the refrigerator to harden completely.

5.) Heat up chocolate chips in a small saucepan.  If they consistency is too tough, add a little butter. Dip the caramel apples into the chocolate or drizzle the chocolate on the sides.  This can be done with white chocolate as well.  Wait until the chocolate is almost hardened before adding a coat of sprinkles or nuts.

6.) Once you're done decorating, place the apples back into the refrigerator until you're ready to serve.  They'll need a few minutes to get to room temperature so they can be cut into or bitten into easier.  Enjoy!

Review:  

I've had nothing but good experiences with caramel apples.  They're a bonding dessert in my family, they were center pieces (and treats) for an apple-spice martini party last year in college, and today they were gifts to my publishing house co-workers as a goodbye. They were a hit.  My boss held off until after lunch beofre she started gnawing right into the thing, as did my other co-workers.  The owner of the company said she hadn't had a caramel apple in about 25 years and thoroughly enjoyed the surprise.  Hey, I don't mind trading apples for letters of recommendation!

On a side note, it was my last day as the intern at the publishing house and it felt...good.  Like I've accomplished something I can be proud of.  My next blog post will be more about my internship, but let me say this: I feel at home with books and being a part of the magic behind the scenes is something I truly want to do the rest of my life.  Thank you for believing in me, S--- Publications!

Day 148--Is Halloween the New Christmas?

I read an interesting article today about Halloween being the new Christmas.  According to ABC News:

-- The average American will spend $72.31 on Halloween this year (costume, decorations, candy, ect)

-- 69% of Americans intend to celebrate Halloween

--1/2 of all those celebrating will be decorating their homes.

 --The $72.31 figure is second only to the amount spent on Christmas.

When I was a kid, Halloween was a costume, a pumpkin, and some glass stickers.  In high school, Halloween was dressing up at school and watching a Halloween movie while working on midterm papers.  In college, however, Halloween BLEW UP.

In college you need at least two costumes, decorations for the house, money for booze for the party you're going to, cover for the club you're going to, a pumpkin, and some special Halloween food like pumpkin muffins to go with your pumpkin beer and other odds and ends.  It's looking like post-college has the same agenda and I love it.

Halloween and St. Patrick's Day are my favorite holidays for two really simple reasons: (1) they're extremely easy to participate in (and most people do), and (2) it's spent with friends. I mean, you can buy a 50¢ mask and join in the celebration of Halloween and just wear something green for St. Pat's Day.  There is no pressure of family and their expectations of you and the strain and hurt feelings of presents like with Christmas, or the awkwardness that arises over who's cooking the food as you get with Thanksgiving and Easter, nor is there backlash like you can get with people who hate Valentine's Day or get overly political about The Fourth of July.  

 

St. Pat's Day is great for being drunk and loud and merry.  But Halloween still trumps it with its innate requirement to indulge in your fantasies--and while naughty fantasies are more fun, it doesn't have to be sexual.  You can be whoever you want to be on Halloween that you can't be in real life, like a hippy, or a doctor, or a goth girl, or a cheerleader, or movie star, or bum, or you can dress up as your friend and be them for a night.  

Halloween is all about possibilities and fun and food and celebration for no damn reason.  We ain't trying to shoo away the spirits these days.

So carve a pumpkin, pour some ale, and be someone new for a night!

[Here's the original article]

http://gma.yahoo.com/blogs/abc-blogs/halloween-christmas-153059277.html

Day 148a--What do when you're 23 without health insurance

Yikes, this entry got hijacked by my bladder.  I had full intentions of writing about Fall Fashion, or reviewing my first metal band show who played at the local bar, or what it was like checking out a cool room I might rent if all goes well.

But instead I have to talk about my life and what's the most pressing and this is it: I'm pretty sure I have a bladder infection.  This is the first time I've needed to see a doctor since graduation so I don't have student health care, and as my mother so clearly pointed out to me, I'm not under her health insurance aside from dental and vision and that's about to expire too.  

So what does a 23 year-old without health insurance do when they need a doctor?  Self-medicate and hope for the best.

Bladder infections can happen for no real particular reason but some factors do compound and I have nearly all the factors listed, like stress levels, dehydration, holding it for too long, sexual intercourse, not doing laundry in time, and not "voiding" completely (who comes up with these words?), and a sugary diet.

According to online doctors, this the best thing I can do is see a doctor for antibiotics.  Well, I don't have hundreds to spend right now on something I can probably fix myself.  The second best option are those minute clinics which would cost $79-89 for a general exam + $15 for a urine sample+ $$$ for pills.  However, for something that might be minor I'd hate to drop that much cash.

So I'm drinking lots of water, I'll buy some cranberry juice tomorrow, and I'm hoping for the best.  They say that if my back starts to hurt and I feel nauseous with a fever and the chills the infection might be turning into a kidney infection, which, untreated, can damage my kidneys.  Well, I felt a fever and the chills yesterday but not today, so here's hoping me not having insurance isn't killing me!

On a side note, I know I've been bashing my mom lately but hear me out on this one.  When the Obama heathcare plan was being debated she was completely against universal healthcare because she thought it would diminish the quality of health care for her and her husband.  Look, that's a valid concern and everything but with Obama's plan they could have still opted for private health care.  Because you know what, it fucking sucks to be sick, need a doctor, and just hoping that you're not damaging your organs because you can't afford an out-of-pocket doctor visit.

Alright, I'm going to finish this cup of water and buy some cranberry juice first thing in the morning.

Day 145-- Fairy Grandmothers and Executioner mothers

I love talking to my grandma and my mom in the same day because the paradox of their philosophies gives me whiplash and a good laugh.  Today though, I wish I had called my mom first to get the gutting done quickly and then called my grandma to heal the wound .

I am an English Literature graduate with a sparkling diploma currently among some papers in a Urban Outfitters bag under the bed.  Once I move into my new place, however, I will be framing portraits of women who inspire me, like Harriet Tubman, the women suffragettes, Margaret Sanger, Rosa Parks, and Hilary Clinton, and I will be framing my diploma up on the wall with them.  It is an incredible honor to have a college degree, let alone have one as a female.  I am the first gen college grad in my immediate family and it fucking means something to me.

But I'm poor.  And I will get poorer.

When I talked to my grandma about my publishing internship I told her all about meeting San Diego's former mayor whose autobiography was published by my company, and who I've been doing media promotion for these past few weeks.  I told my grandma about the old Mexican gentleman of leisure author and his quick humor and old watery eyes, and all about his lecture to college students about writing techniques and how he believes in their dreams.  I told my grandma that this is the career I want; this life of working with authors and books and being around of this sort of creativity really makes me happy. 

My grandma agreed with every point, "Yes yes, I like that." "You are doing what makes you happy. I love that you are there in San Diego with the beach and your boyfriend and your job"  "New York is where it is happening" [agreeing with me about grad school]. 'I'm very proud of you, baby."  She wholeheartedly believes in me, and as I'm still struggling to have my own confidence, hers build me up and makes me try. 

We also talked a little bit about my cousin's wedding I'm driving up for and when I told her that I don't mean to be selfish but I really just want to be in attendance and celebrate instead of the stress of being in the wedding party, my grandma said, "I like that. You need your rest.  You work so hard and when you get here you can celebrate. I'm looking forward to seeing you."  She also said not to listen to the women at my work who mistreat me because their jealous of me and that you don't need them and when I leave they'll remember me for the hard worker that I was and who they lost.

Then there's my mother. 

I tell her the exact same things I told my grandma and her response was, "Are their employment opportunities when it's over?" "[about being mistreated at work] Well, that's every job." A few minutes later, "I got some papers in the mail and I won't be able to carry you on my insurance anymore." I told her that I need to have a filing redone or a possible root canal and she said to simply put some sensitivity cream on it and try to file it down again.  Two different dentists have filed it down FIVE times, trust me, it needs to be replaced.  I can't even eat cold cereal and cool turkey sandwiches without wincing in pain.  I tell this to my mom and she tells to use more cream and look for a corporate job that has benefits.  Your child can't eat cereal because pain and you blame the kid for not trying hard enough instead of the dentists who didn't do their job right?  And you aren't willing to help pay for it to make it right for your kid?

Before you accuse me of being spoiled, let me put it in perspective.  I have never asked my mom or step-dad for financial help.  A college fund from my deceased dad paid for college, my car payments, and rent for the past 4 years and now it's more or less empty.  Furthermore my mom and step-dad live richly.  They've blown thousands of dollars on outdoor furniture they never sit in, they buy tons of crap from As Seen On Tv, they were both retired by him at 60 last year and her at 48 five years ago, they own thousands of dollars worth in sports memorabilia, not to mention three houses.  To sum it up, they're not poor.  They might be living a little tighter recently, but they're not poor.

My mom and I talked about money and I told her that November is going to be unexpectedly tight for me.  Here are some numbers: I make about $1,200 a month.  I'm about to move and start paying rent because I've overstayed my welcome at my bf's house where I was splitting costs so now I'll be paying $600 plus utilities.  The drive up and down to the Bay Area for the wedding plus food costs plus a wedding gift is going to cost me about $250.  I'm very grateful that my boyfriend's parents unexpectedly paid for plane tickets so we can go to Tahoe for Thanksgiving but to be honest, it's another 4 days I have to take off work that I wasn't planning on.  With all that time off, that's about $300 I'm losing.  Plus I need to pay for this tooth problem out of pocket which will probably be $300-400.  Then my car registration is due which will be about $200.  All this on top of groceries, gas, phone bill, and my car insurance bill.  Then the holidays coming up...

I need help.  And my mom is in the position to help me.  Jesus, I'm not looking for money to go to Europe or designer jeans or anything.  I'm just looking for a little help to pay for the dentist for a painful surgery and some money for gas to go to a wedding I don't even want to attend.

My mom's response? "You have cushion in your savings, don't you?" "I remember living paycheck to paycheck with your father.  We ate a lot of Hamburger Helper and Pork and Beans".  "I'm sorry, money's tight here too." "I know what you're going through."

Actually, mom you don't.  When you were 23 you were married with a good job and you owned a house, and your parents couldn't financially help you.  You made enough money to support a child and a divorce, and you had enough to retire at 48.  You didn't follow your dreams.  And you paid the price for security by losing all of your friends, all of your independence, and your whimsy I only vaguely remember.

I'm 23 and went to college, and to pursue the dreams I went to college for it's going to take years of hard work for little pay.  But I will be proud of myself when I get to where I'm going because I fucking tried.  I'm sorry I graduated in the worst economy since the Great Depression.  I have a college degree but I work a job I could have gotten out of high school.  There aren't jobs.  There aren't high paying jobs.  I don't know if I'll be able to afford a house.  I don't know if I'll be able to afford kids. 

I'm 23 and I eat on the right side of my mouth because I can't afford a dentist to fix my tooth.  I'm 23 and I hate that I'm going on vacation because I'm afraid of the poverty when I get home.  I'm a college graduate who's going to have to dip into savings to buy groceries, and my boyfriend's not that much better off because his students loans start up in December. Furthermore, I'm struggling more than I have have in my life and my parent who's blows 100s on gizmos for the house won't help me for gas money to be at a family event you guilted me into going.

No, mom, you don't understand. 

Jesus, if things really were tight with my mom I would send her my paychecks.  If things really were tight I wouldn't imply that I needed help because I wouldn't want to add to the stress.  But things aren't tight and she believes in tough love. 

Look, I understand that helping your grown kid is unnecessary and makes many them lazy fuckers in debt.  But I guess I'm hurt that I've been cut off so completely at a time when I need it most and I haven't done anything wrong.  I went to college.  I have a job and hate it every fucking day because they're so cruel to me but I show up on time anyway.  I have two jobs and one of them is an unpaid internship to pursue a career I love.  I work 6 days a week and am missing my life because of it.  I'm not a criminal, I'm not a drug addict, I have a stable loving relationship, I don't steal, or cheat, or am rude to people.  I'm doing everything right and I need just a little help or compassion.

I need a mom who's on my side.  I need a parent who says "fuck them" to my co-workers who treat me like shit.  I need a mom who will either (a) help me pay for the dentist, even if it's just $50, or (b) have real compassion that my mouth is so painful instead of telling me to tough it out.

If I took her advice on making judgement calls on what is important to spend money on and what isn't, I wouldn't go to the wedding and I wouldn't go to Tahoe, and I would miss out on family and life just like she did. 

Look, I love my mom, and I know she wants the best for me.  I know she just wants me to be secure and stable.  But I guess it just really saddens me that her answer to my life is to not follow my dreams, ignore my heath, not go on trips, be mistreated at a job I hate, and tough cookies to you.

If my parent can't financially help me or simply doesn't want to, that's really ok.  But a parent who isn't willing to show me compassion to serious problems in my life isn't ok at all.  I mean, just be on my side that's it's 2011 and life sucks right now but I love you and believe in you.

This is why I love my grandma so much.  Maybe it's stupid idealism and empty dreams, but damnit, this is the time to dream.  This is the time in life to hope.  At 23 right out of college is the time to go for that career because it's easier to start on bottom and underpaid at 23 than at 24, or 25, or 26, or 36, or 42.  

I've got to fucking try to make it in publishing.  I've got to fucking try. My mom tries to kill that spark in me and replace it with a corporate job that will fix my tooth in exchange for my dreams and soul.  My grandma tries to inspire the light in me to burn a little brighter and to have the courage to pursue happiness.  Would you rather your daughter be a fierce lioness or a heartless tin solider? I just want to hope.

Day 143-- The perils of working the front desk at a hotel

Oh hi, Saturday.  Today I wish I want to shop for a Halloween costume, buy some Halloween decorations with the roommate, do laundry like I should have done last week, call my grandma, call my mom, cook some soup, work on my freelance fiction stories, read the mystery thriller I started a few days ago, paint my nails, buy the lenses for my new hipster glasses frames, go to Urban Outfitters to look around, go to Hustler to buy some new lingerie, go to Target and get ideas for our Halloween dinner, watch the Food Network, go for a walk, conceptualize my new 5-year plan and how grad school fits into it, "lose" my AZ driver's license to get sent a new one to my my mom's house to then get one in CA and become a resident here, and maybe order a pizza for dinner.

OH RIGHT.  I CAN'T.  I HAVE TO WORK TODAY. 

There are two reasons why people work in hotels: cheap travel benefits, and meeting interesting people.  But there are perils to working in the hotel industry and at my hotel especially.  Here's my shit list.

Peril #1: Prepare to never be home.

I work at a small-medium hotel and it only takes 5 people to run it.  2 people in the morning/afternoon, 2 people in the afternoon/night, and 1 person graveyard.  So

7am-3:30pm= I feel sick every time I have to up by or before 6am drive, and this shift makes you exhausted once you get home.  

11am-7:30pm= As the midshift person you do have little bit of time in the morning but only for 1-2 errands and quickly.  You lose all of your afternoon during this shift, and when you get home at 8pm most people have already eaten and are off doing something, and most restaurants and shops close at 9pm.

3pm-11:30pm= You do have the mornings and just enough afternoon for going out to lunch or shopping or cleaning, but if you're going out, you can't fully relax knowing that you'll have to leave by 2:30 and you either need to be in uniform already or need to show up early enough to change in the bathroom.

Peril #2: You will turn into a stressed clock

Like I said above, you have very little time where you can (a) see people and (b) take care of yourself with the hotel schedule so you treat time like it's the precious squeezed commodity that it is. You can't fully enjoy your time because it's either almost over or you never get it so you want to make the most of it.  I constantly feel stressed out about my time.  I've turned into one of those people who starts the shower water, reads my email while it heats up while also brushing my teeth and finishes brushing in the shower.

Peril #3: You will lose self-confidence 

Hotel front desk agents are treated like shit by the guests and co-workers alike.  It's a super petty world where you simply can't meet expectations and not filing something in a file means you're a conniving asshole who will be gossiped about.  And the worst of it, you can't quit because you're so grateful to have a job and no one wants to hire someone in a bad economy who wants to leave their last job after only 3 months. I feel stuck.

Peril #4: You will not have weekends off, nor will get to travel.

Needless to say, weekends are the busiest days of the week at a hotel.  So either get Saturday off and prepare to have to come in on Sunday hungover and annoyed, or get Sunday off to party hard late on Saturday but miss out on the whole day.  No one gets both Saturday and Sunday off. And since everyone else does, you can't go on a weekend trip with loved ones.

Peril #5: You will hate old people

Old people who go on cruises are my absolute least favorite people.  They are ridiculously obnoxious and demanding and are often in a bad mood for some reason.  

Well, I need to go dry my hair and get ready for work.  Maybe I'll have time to buy lunch to go.  Probably not.

Day 142-- Mexican Black Bean Chili recipe

 
Prologue:

Chili is one of those dishes that is known to start a fight.  The original name "chili"  derives from the Spanish name "chile con carne", which is a spicy stew made from chili peppers, garlic, onion, cumin, and ground beef.  

Through the years chili has become less spicy, more spicy, tomatoes added, beans added, both tomatoes and beans demanded to be taken out, steak replacing ground beef, only ground beef allowed, ect.  It's a hotly debated subject on what makes a good chili, and luckily there are enough chili cook-offs through the year to help with the variety. 

One thing is agreed upon, you don't make nor order chili unless you desire chili and nothing else.  It's for special occasions with friends or a feel-good night with loved ones. 

Mexican Black-Bean Chili

Prep time: in all, 15 minutes

Cook time: in all, 35-45 minutes

Servings: 3-4

Ingredients

1 small onion

1 green bell pepper

1+ pound ground beef

1/2 teaspoon chili pepper

1/2 or less cumin powder

3/4 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1 can black beans, drained

1 can pinto beans, drained (I used pork and beans)

2 cans diced tomatoes, drained or not drained depending on how soupy you want it

1 can (14.5oz) beef broth

*optional garlic

*optional cilantro or avocado for garnish

Directions:

1.) Start cooking a full pan of ground beef.  While it cooks, chop up your onion and bell pepper and start cooking them in a separate pan.  They should both be done in about 10 minutes.

2.) Pull out a large pot.  Drain the water from the meat pan and transfer into the pot.  Add the cooked onions and bell pepper, and add the broth, tomatoes, beans, and spices to the pot as well. 

3.) Bring to a boil.  Once at boil, set down to medium heat and stir occasional.  The longer the better, but 30 minutes was just fine for us.  Take out some cute soup bowls and enjoy some chili!

Review:

This is the first dish I've made this year that made me feel like a chef.  Not just because the outcome was delicious, but because I actually owned all of the ingredients beforehand.  It's always a good idea to keep some extra cans of beef broth, tomatoes, and beans around, and we tend to have some ground beef in the freezer ready to go. 

I'll admit I was nervous as the dish was cooking because of that damn smell of cumin (it smells like a Taco Bell) was so prominent.  Luckily the taste blended just fine, but if you're down with the cumin by all means add more than a half a teaspoon.

Honestly this dish was perfect.  As I mentioned before, chili is a sort of comfort food to be shared and after a long week and unavoidable stresses, a hot dish I made from scratch that was a fun creative process and it was nice to be able to offer it to my boyfriend walking through the door from work.

It's meaty, it has just enough veggies, it's flavorful but not spicy, and it's a real hearty meal.  It might be a little soupy for some people so drain the tomatoes if you want the sauce to be more thick. 

They say that chili is best when it's been cooking all day or the next day so I was looking forward to trying some tonight after work.  When I left this morning there was a full tub of leftovers in the fridge but only a few tablespoons left when I got home (boyfriend and roommate loved it).  Haha, well, that's the best review a chef can have.

Happy cooking!

Day 140--A Mexican gentlemen of lesuire walks into town

Next to the patrol cars and dusty gas pumps he was standing there in his starched pink suit shirt, khaki slacks, and pale straw hat with a leather band around the middle--the kind of hat my grandfather wore so many years ago.  It may not have been a limo to pick him up, but our 2010 Honda was a welcomed site for the humored gentleman....

Someone once asked me where my favorite place was and I answered 'My car during long distances'.  There is something magical about road trip, I am certain.  On the road, all ideas are plausible, all grudges forgotten, all insecurities left behind 70 mph ago, and world is a little bit more friendly and livable amongst the dusk and the trees.

Yesterday my publishing co-worker and I had the mission of picking up one of our authors at the border at Tecate and taking him to one of the local colleges so he could present some writing techniques to undergraduate creative writing majors.  

K. is my age and as we drove the windy two lane road past the new paint of Chula Vista and into the back country of San Diego, we talked about our relationships and the quirks about our boyfriends we hate yet secretly find amusing.  We talked about publishing and graduate school possibilities. We talked about places we've seen and have yet to see.  The Highway 94 road is a curve a minute with the high rocks, brush, and camping grounds to keep your eyes company.

We arrived at the border, which, if you've never seen a border entrance, most are boring looking roads with a boring toll both and boring gate arms.  It makes you wonder what all the fuss is about when it comes to immigration when it's the same damn place and people on both sides--aside from the armed US guards.  Our author hates crossing the border and dealing with the questions and threats of detainment (he was born in Los Angeles to Mexican parents).  He kept silent though, as we passed through the border patrol a few miles down.

He is an old fashioned gentleman in his prime 70s, with a story up his sleeve and old watery eyes that give him the impression of either of remembering times long ago, or enjoying a private joke at your expense.  He told us about the local brujas (witches) and seers of his town, and how he's been listening to the crows lately and if their caws have been the usual stealing caw, the company-is-coming caw, or death caw.  No death caw yet, he laughed.

 His lecture took place at one of the bigger community college I've seen.  The room was packed and I once again missed the feeling of a classroom, their uncomfortable chairs, the desire for class to get out early, but enjoying every minute of it anyway.  

 

His techniques were very practical.  Experiment dialogue between two men, then two women, then a parent and child, then two parents, then two children, ect.  Try writing the dialogue of a scene, like a couple's first kiss, and then write the description to go with it.  Try writing the opposite scene, like a couple's last kiss.  Use angles for a scene.  "A silver BMW glides into the parking space marked Maureen Slateman (outer angle).   Maureen walks in a style best decribes by Webster as 'militant' (middle angle).  She scowls at the doorman, the delivery women, the accountant without pause (close up).  If a puppy had been in Maureen Slateman's path she would have kicked it. (outer angel).

Our author also suggested eavesdropping on conversations to pick up dialogue among people, and that, "If you work I the restaurant business you already have a degree in social science."

He treated us out to lunch on the way home to Mexico--insisting on opening every door for us.  Among chicken sandwiches and his margarita we talked about his love of the ranch and how his writing style involves mornings under a tree with a yellow pad and a nice scotch in the afternoon.  When he told us he hates squirrels we got into a long conversation about how awful the creatures really were.  He also keeps a slingshot nearby because of the crows, and he laughed when I told him about my step-dad from the South whose solution to the annoying dove problem in Arizona (they coo into the fireplace making the whole house coo all fricken day) was a bb gun. 

He told us the secret about writing about the characters of his town: write in English.  His next book is in Spanish so I'm assuming it's about the people on the US-side.

He finished his margarita, insisted that he pay, and off we went down that dusty twisty road once more.  We talked about the immortality of the different mediums of art. A lifetime ago he worked in the movie industry, and then the television business, and before that he was dj, and then he turned to writing in his 50s, 60s.  He said that movies without special effects can last a long time, music has the unique ability of reminding listeners of who they used to be, and that books have "a long life", and that a good story can still be a good story decades later.  He finished by telling us we had to cross the border soon and get our stomach listened to by the local witch to tell us our future--just be careful what we eat beforehand, he laughed.

And so with handshakes and hugs our Mexican gentleman of leisure put on his hat, insisted on paying our gas, thanked us kindly for the ride, and walked back across the gate to Mexico.   I was sad to see him go, and thought for a minute how maybe one day at the end of my life I too can write under a tree on my ranch with a nice scotch in the afternoon.

Other updates:

It's funny really how road trip can relive the tension in the shoulders.  I suppose I should briefly update you about the events from the last post.

My boyfriend and I are doing progressively better.  We fought about the smoking product for a few days but eventually him working 11-hour days and me working my usual 42 hour week and us not really seeing each other for more than an hour/two hours a night finally wore out the conversation.  The final compromises were these: love each other or not (love each other), future problems with present problems (present problems), he let me slap him if I wanted to (I did, though during other rough activities ;) and either the product goes or it gets a name.  He doesn't like the name Henryetta, but he conceded to my whims as long as I concede to his. :) He's been really playful to me and making me laugh and I made us some chili tonight.

Work has been hilariously awful. I've been sent over to the dumpy hotel once a day to relive them for lunch breaks.  One day we had a person passed out from drugs not answering the door nor phone, and a loony woman who was convinced there were termites in her room.  Back at my hotel, a real girl drama coup has been afoot, with my boss waging war against two of my co-workers who forget to file sheets and she thinks they do it on purpose.  Yeah.  I'll be looking for a new job after Thanksgiving.

On the roommate note, one of them is moving out.  She's an impulsive traveler so we knew it was coming, but I think me living here an extra month and helping the bf pay rent in a half-way instead of helping everyone's rent  in a little-each way rubbed the girls the wrong way.  They've been super sweet to me and all, but I still feel guilty that I caused unhappiness without meaning to. I'm still looking for a place via craigslist and we all plan on having a really awesome Halloween weekend together and enjoying each other's company these next few weeks. :)

That's all for now!

Day 136-- Bars, Bosses, and Boyfriend Blowouts

Bars:

Let me preface this by explaining my 3-0-2-3 philosophy about hanging out.  In my opinion, if a person declines an invite to a certain thing three times in a row, they will not be invited again.  For example, if you invited someone out for drinks three times in a row and they said no thanks/busy/tired/ect you're not going to bother inviting them for a 4th time just to be rejected again.  [3-0]. 

Now if a person goes twice in a row then they have three changes to decline a future invitation. Twice isn't a fluke; it's a pattern of 'yes's.  For example, if you go out to lunch with someone two Thursdays in a row and even if they can't make the third Thursday, you'll still invite them the fourth Thursday, and if they say no/can't/sorry for the 4th, you might not invite them again right away, but a month later you may try one more Thursday. [2-3].

Try to keep these numbers in your head for the rest of this section.

About two weeks ago my roommates went out to a club in PB and didn't invite me.  It stung a little, but really I deserved it by not going out with them numerous times in a row.  My boyfriend was a total bear to me about though, and took a machete to my self-confidence by reminding me that I don't really have friends here, I haven't tried hard enough to be social, I should have butted in and asked to join, or maybe I should think about why I wasn't invited and how to be invited in the future for my own happiness, and because it's really important to him that I make friends here because I miss mine in Arizona.  It hurt the things he said, because they were 100% true and things I've already thought about in my own head.

Flash-forward to a week ago and they invite me out to the local pub.  I go.  And it was totally fun and a good story the next day, and some bomb breakfast burritos at 2am.  The bf was too tired to come out that night, I should add, and if I remember right, was happy I was going out being social.

Flash-forward to Tuesday and we--the whole house-were going to go out for Taco Tuesdays at a local favorite spot.  We all got really dressed up and had the music pumping and even the bf was dancing around excited.  There was a misunderstanding and suddenly the plan wasn't Taco Tuesdays at the local joint, it was Taco Tuesdays at this club in PB.  And suddenly more people are over for a night out, including this cool girl friend of my roommate I don't get to hang out with very often.  And suddenly the bf is pissed because he's hungry and has been looking forward to the local joint all night and refused to go to PB.  And suddenly I have to make a choice of where to go. 

It's the classic no-win situation we've all been in dozens of times and have caused the same problem to others dozen of times.  Go with the roommates or go with the boyfriend?  Go with the roommates, be social, have some fun, but you can't really have that much fun because you know someone's upset at you that you ditched them. Go with the grumpy boyfriend and win points for loyalty and love, but have a strained local night out on top of having regrets that you're losing possible friends.

In the end I wish I would have done both even though that probably wouldn't have worked.  If I had gone with the bf for tacos he would have been somewhat happy, then I could have driven to PB by myself which would have made me feel only somewhat happy for being alone, and they would have been happy for me being there but later, which is only somewhat of the whole experience.

I chose to go out to PB with the roommates but with the clause that I would leave by 12.  And it was a fun night with that twinge of regret like I thought it would be.  It was really nice to dance, and felt great to feel a part of a group again and yes, I made some new and stronger connections that night.  But the bf was annoyed at me when I got home (as expected) and if I were him, I know I would feel the same. 

Being in a relationship can sometimes be a struggle between what's best for the couple and best for the individual.  Most of the times they merge, and the most honorable of us can surrender our own needs for the other person, which in turn, sometimes makes them surrender back.  The best of couples can say, "Hey, this is important to you so I'll do it for you," and the other person saying, "You know what, it's not so important to me that you have to sacrifice yourself." 

Think of He's Just Not That Into You and the Ben Afflac/Jennifer Aniston couple.  Obviously it's a movie meant for romantic women but I still think it's a great example.  In the movie the couple breaks up because Jen wanted to get married and he simply didn't want the piece of paper. Later she surrendered that she didn't need marriage if it meant losing him, and in turn, he surprised her by agreeing to marry her because she was willing to give it up.

Since I'm on the topic of the PB bar though, it really was a fun bar.  It was massive with a smoking section, a private lounge section, and a shit ton of mutli-colored lights around the huge floor of the crowded bar.  And I was thoroughly impressed that they could make Coldplay and Adele into ridiculously good club music.  We hung out, met old friends, danced together, danced on top of the bar, and was a solid good night when we were together. 

The end of the night was a bit of hot mess.  We lost one roommate+her friend+and their group, my other roommate had to deal with drama of her friend getting pissed we were leaving at midnight, the bf was annoyed when I got home, the lost roommate got more lost and had a scary cab ride home, and the roommate who left with me was super sick the next day.  And you know what, I am sorry that the bf felt ditched by me because I've been there, it really fucking hurts to be left.  None the less, the fights we've had about it since have felt very much unwarranted. 

And in the end, you know what, I really do cherish getting cheap Mexican food with my roommate who left with me at midnight and getting that kind of heart-to-heart conversation I miss so much about Arizona.  And I fucking cherish that 'morning after' breakfast with the roommates recapping what happened the night before--a tradition that I honestly miss most of all about not having my ASU girls anymore.

Bosses:

It ain't a secret that I can't stand my bosses and this week has been exemplary.  My LFB (least favorite boss) has actually gotten more jovial with her increase of pain medication and I've actually enjoyed working with her.  Well, until Wednesday when, ten minutes before I was off, she discovered this huge error she made in an 11-week guest's folio. An hour later and ten minutes later I finally go home.

Today has been a real gem.  Due to some shady practices at our sister hotel (no lunches.  They have to eat at the desk), a few us us--ie. me and the other guy who works there part-time anyway--will be covering their lunch breaks and any other times they need us.  It's me going from one dumpty hotel to an even worse dumpty hotel (it's literally 2 stars).  This boss, I'll call her Little Caesar, is a fucking weird nutcase. She is 100% a neat freak, has no patience, hoards her office like it's a palace even though it's simply the back office where extra towels and toilet paper are kept, plus she's touchy feely in a pat-on-the-back sort of way, and it's painfully obvious that she talks to herself too much. Here are some ridiculous things she said to me today:

1.) [Me trying to make a key for a guest].

Her: "You don't know the password?!" (pissed off)

Me: "I guess not (with muted humor).  It's not the same as ours?"

Her: "The password is individual so I'll let you use mine."

Gee lady, how the fuck am I suppose to know it then? 

2.) [Me asking if we have any extra bags as per request by a guest on the phone]

Me: "Do we have any extra bags up here?"

Her: "No!"

Me: "Would housekeeping have any?"

Her: "No."

Me: "Ok [guests asks again for plastic bags].  Do we maybe have extra garbage bags?"

Her: "Yes (like it was obvious and pulls out a bag)."

Me: [Guest tells me on phone they want ziplock bags.  I figure we probably don't but I ask anyway since we have food at the front desk in the morning and this whole thing is amusing me] Would housekeeping have ziplocks?

Her: "Ziplocks?!"

Me: [Guest asks me about extra ice bags.  I know we probably do.  I tell him we don't.]

[A guest asks if she can keep her luggage in the lobby somewhere.  I know we can, but I don't know where.  I ask Little Caesar ]

Me: "Can a guest keep her luggage somewhere in our lobby?"

Her: "Not in my office!" (Keep in mind her "office" is an oversized storage closet).

Me: "That's fine.  Do we have somewhere else?"

Her: "In the closet (like it was the most obvious thing in the world and I had no idea where that was.)

She also thought I was stupid for not knowing where the elevator was when it was my first time on the property and kept asking me if I was bored when I finished a task and politely found something to do, like read the arrivals list (all 12 names over and over).  I didn't talk to her much and tried to be an ice queen.  I also fucked up a little on accident but hopefully she'll think I'm too incompetent. Weirdo.

Boyfriend Blowouts:

Well, I already described the first blowout about the club.  Here's the second.

Also, please know that I'm not trying to make the bf seem like an asshole. Obviously the description of events are skewed in my favor but I hope you judge us fairly if you've been in his shoes or in mine.

Also, this blog is ANONYMOUS.

So from even before our relationship started 4.5 years ago I hated the fact that he was a smoker.  (1) The excessiveness is  annoying to me because of the cost, health, smell, and not going through life sober.  More importantly is (2), if some day we get really serious I will NOT marry a smoker, and I certainly will NOT have a family with a smoker.  Occasional smoker, maybe.  But every day multiple times just isn't the sort of lifestyle I want kids growing up with.  Sorry, I just don't.  Maybe D.A.R.E. got to me.  Maybe my dead alcoholic father has something to do with it.  Maybe excess of anything freaks me out (including coffee junkies).  

Anyway, the smoking has been our issue--let me rephrase that in my boyfriend's language--my disagreement with his excess smoking has been my issue with him for years.  It's always the same damn argument. Him being honest about his lifestyle today, me being honest about what I want for my future.  

What's kept us together is love.  We love each other and we like each other, and I think we still have hope that this issue isn't the deciding one.  On my end of things, I keep hoping that his smoking will either go away or be so little by the time marriage/kids bug finally hits me.

And things have changed.  I have gotten much more comfortable with his smoking and the culture in general and really, it doesn't bother me today.  It's the future thing.  

But when he decided to work in the industry it caused a whole 'nother round of fights.  It's one thing to smoke, another to be a part of the machine.  The compromise (that he doesn't remember) was that he would work in the industry and enjoy tending the products there instead of home, and that I would test out being cool with it for 1 year.  Well this week he brought a product home and I flipped out.

I was so fucking pissed.  Not at the product itself but the broken agreement.  So I kept my end of the agreement by leaving.  I packed up and left for the night.  I would have stayed somewhere else a second night but my contacts weren't answering.  

We're still at a stalemate now.  I want the product gone, he doesn't.  I'm moving out at the end of the month anyway so that's what I've been working on.  I'm emailing a bunch of craiglist room posts right after I finish typing this blog entry.

I guess it's just really disappointing to me.  We're so happy together and then he has to pick at my scab with this reminder.  This product in the house is this huge green neon sign that says to me, This Isn't Going to Work Out. You Will Not Get What You Want, Ever.  Be Honest, You Will Never Ok Will His Lifestyle.  You Will Have to Sacrifice Your Beliefs If You Want to Be With This Person for the Rest of Your Life.  You Love This Man, But You Obviously Don't Accept Him Completely. You Don't Want this Lifestyle to Ok For Your Future Children. This Hurts You and You Can't Really Make Him Understand Why. 

It's hard for me to describe why this product in the house is such a big deal to me.  It's...you know, it's just...

I'm jealous of people who experience that initial crash and sizzle of a young relationship.  You know, it's that time when couples are so fucking in love that they're willing to do anything for the other person and have such utter confidence that this is the right fucking person for me and we are going to last.  It's usually fleeting for couples but sometimes it's not.  And I've never felt that way.

I have never felt that utter confidence about my relationship and it's because of his smoking.  It's like having sex without an orgasm, or cooking a steak but not eating it.  I have this tiny piece of sadness that hides in my body because for all the happiness I have with him, I still have that justified doubt that one day I will have to leave him because of his smoking or he'll leave me because he wants to live honestly. 

Seeing his smoking product on our nightstand just makes that sadness of doubt hurt a little more.  

My boyfriend can and has given me almost everything.  He has given me love, romance, humor, adventure, intellect, comfort, arousal, loyalty, style, patience, whimsy, and excitement. But as a smoker he can't give me the one I crave: permanence.

I am a permanent girl.  I keep every promise I make.  I keep my word, I keep friendships.  Hell, the whole reason I was a lit major was because I desire the immortality of writing--another variation of permanency. Tell me this needs to happen and I will MAKE it happen.  This is not the same as stability.  People act differently when they know something is permanent.  You try harder to make it work.  Is it really a coincidence that arranged marriages last longer than marriages of fancy?  Doubt makes us selfish since we may be on our own again soon anyway.  

I don't need to get married to my boyfriend, nor do I particularly desire it at this stage in my life.  But I do desire feeling like we're going to work out in the long run.  I do desire that confidence.  I want to believe that this happiness we share can last a lifetime and that I can have a life I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have.

Having this smoking product in my face just reminds me that I don't have that confidence, and that my ideal life with him probably isn't going to happen for me.  And that little scab of doubt and sadness hurts me more than I ever want him to know. 

Day 131-- "Get Laid" Spaghetti and Meatballs recipe

Prologue:

Fellas, if you want to get laid, cook a girl a meal.  I honestly don't know a single girl who won't put out for a home-cooked meal, even if it's awful (what that says about us, I dunno).  In college a knew a girl who would hook up with a guy once a week for food and cable, and almost every friend I have has gone on a least one date (or several) just for free dinner that wasn't ramen.  

On my end of things, any time my boyfriend makes me a delicious dinner he knows it's a least a 5 position kind of night (sue me for enjoying sex more when I'm feed, warm, and loved).  He can BBQ, and stir-fry, but his real specialty is spaghetti and meatballs.  It's super easy but the perfect dish to come home to.

"Get Laid" Spaghetti and Meatballs

Servings: 2-3

Prep time: 10-15 minutes

Cook time: 15 minutes

Ingredients:

1 pound ground beef 80% lean

Ragu pasta sauce (regular)

Angel hair pasta

Garlic salt
Pepper

Directions:

1.) My boyfriend is a minimum-seasoning cook when it comes to meatballs, and in trying out a bunch of spices when I cook this dish, I agree with him.  In this first step he sprinkles the meat with some garlic salt and pepper, and rolls up the meat to meatballs about the half the size of your palm.  

2.) He pulls out a skillet, adds a little olive oil, and begins to cook the meatballs for about 10 minutes.  He drains the water from the meat at the end of cooking and adds the Ragu to the skillet, lowering the heat a little.

3.) When the meatballs are almost done he starts boiling a large pot of water.  Once at boil, he adds half a box of angel hair pasta.  Drain the pasta when it's done cooking.

4.) Combine the pasta, sauce, and meatballs together on a plate.  Done!  *We often pair it with steamed broccoli.

Review:

The food was absolute perfect for a happy Monday night.  We've tried making this with other forms of pasta, but angel hair is still my favorite, as I feel like it absorbs the sauce the best.  And the meatballs were steamy with a little bite that started in the kitchen and ended in the living room.  The sex, in case you were curious, was also steamy with bite (marks) that started against the wall, to the executive chair, and ended on the bed in front of our headboard mirror (a must-have purchase, for you couples out there).  Happy cooking!