Day 179-- Pyro

Today I walked home alone in the daylight and looked back behind me to see the ocean from my street.

Can you feel it? 

http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-179-pyro.html 

Day 175*-- Date night in the city

I wanted my boyfriend and I to have a date night to start fresh in our return home to San Diego after Thanksgiving.  I was feeling hopeful and pretty and a sneaky edge of sad that I had said no to dinner at first, and by the time I changed my mind, so did he.  Eventually I won out and went home to get ready and settle back in.

He picked me up at 8 sharp wearing his beach-version of dressy with a purple t-shirt or a long sleeve purple thermal and his hat backward.  (sigh).  I decided to wear that gold netted off the shoulder sweater I had boxed up in storage all this time.  I'm still not sure if I like this military boot/heels, but why not?  Still no eyeliner but plenty of shadow and energy.

I knew I want coconut shrimp and he offered the choice of PF Changs, or some place downtown.  "Downtown," I said with certainty, to The Yard House where we've never been.

Now if only we can be this way again: walking downtown with the lights and cars, holding hands, discussing Twilight and quick moving vampire sperm, haha.  It's that what dating is supposed to be?  

The Yard House reminds me a little bit like the one back home (a different brand, though): tasty, dark wood vibe, meant for people who can't afford it but pretend to.  The coconut shrimp was delicious and the chicken nachos were good, but I've had better.  It was nice to sit together though and talk about our favorite parts of the holiday. 

He cranked the music up as we drove back to my place.

Me: "Are you coming up?" Him: "Of course I'm coming up; this is our first date." "Hm...and will you be spending the night" Him: [coy] "I might have things to do early tomorrow morning." Me: "Ah.  Then you'll just have to come back with you have a toothbrush and p.j.s..." Him: "I was just planning on walking you to your door, what were you thinking, dirty girl?" Me: "Hmmm."

One locked door later...

Two happy people walk out and head to his place since the roommates were gone.  With he and his pipe and me in my blanket we watched the latest episode of Hung and laughed together as usual.  I'm not sure what time he finally joined me under the covers but it was wonderful being back together in our way.

Day 172-175*--Turkeys, family, and vampires

 "I need eyeliner!" I shouted behind me as I raced through the airport looking for black eyeliner of any brand or price before take-off.  I look like a 15 year old without eye liner.  Alas, I couldn't find any in the airport, so Thanksgiving began with a heavy backpack, excited expectations for turkey and family, and naked eye lids for 4 days.

I've spent 4 of the past 5 Thanksgivings with my boyfriend's family and I was really looking forward to it again.  Sometimes I wish I could scoop them up and take them for my own. 

My boyfriend and I were picked up from the airport by his parents, who have about a 2 second rebound of loving each other completely to bickering like it was going out of style.  I love them.  This Thanksgiving it would be them, us, his sister-in-law, her parents, and his college freshmen bro.  It was the perfect ratio for good conversations and nights of relaxing games after days of snow. 

A tradition that my boyfriend started a few years ago was calling all of his friends on Thanksgiving, and I've taken part in the idea ever since.  I called my friends back at party-school ASU who answered the phone, "We're cooking turkey in our bras!"  I miss them terribly.   I called one of my oldest friends who's been concerned about me lately and had nothing but support.  I really need it.  I called my grandma who was in her reminiscing mood and talked for about 30 minutes about people I never met.  I called my mom who was on the phone with my Aunt Gena and we exchanged a quick hello which was better than a guilt trip for why I wasn't there with her.  But the phone call that mattered most was the one I made to Chicago.

My friend and I both worked at Starbucks for 4 years while pursuing the arts and boyfriend drama.  We both graduated in May, with me heading out to San Diego to break into publishing, and she heading out to Chicago to break into the dance scene.

We're both in comforting misery.  She applied to job after job and could only find work part-time at Whole Foods, and I told her about working the front desk at the hotel and hating every minute of it.  She can't afford dance classes to keep up her craft and I can't afford another internship while paying rent.  We talked about how much we missed college and those post-college blues no one warns you about.  It seems like most of us have been in a quiet depression and it was nice to hear we weren't alone.  She's still going to try though and so will I.  I laughed and told her about that Kill Bill quote when O-Ren Ishii asks the Bride, "Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" In her bloody suit and sword The Bride answers calming, "You know, for a minute there, yeah, I actually did."  Yeah.  We graduates actually did.

Dinner time, and the turkey was excellent and very sweet.  The cranberry was yummy, I fucking love dinner rolls, and the sweet potatoes could have used more marshmallows but I think I ate most of the pan during the time I was there.  The only thing missing was a green bean casserole (sauteed spinach and salad was served instead), so when we have our own holiday potluck in SD, I'll be sure to make a green bean dish.

A few of us hit the spa after dinner.  It was the first time I've worn a bikini in months and I was super happy I'm back to being flat.  I love being skinny, but it's a real curse to be 90 pounds and 4'11''.  If I gain any weight what so ever (like the 4-5 pounds I gained post-college) then it immediately looks like I'm pregnant.  Apparently moving+no food in the house equals a flat stomach! [not recommend].

The next day I decided to go ice skating for a little bit.  It's one of the few sports I actually like and I wanted to get some time in before the movie. I texted him where I was just in case and waiting patiently in the locker room.

I was wholly surprised when he showed up 10 minutes later.  He walked me to the rink and tied my skates for me.  He said he's be rooting for me on the sidelines and would wave enthusiastically each time I skated by which made me laugh.  He joined me on the ice sometime later in his normal shoes.  "80%?" he said to me.  "What?" I asked.  We saw a Tyler Perry movie a long time ago about the 80-20 rule in a relationship.  No relationship is 100%, but if you're getting 80% of what you want, at least it's well-balanced between your wants and theirs.

"More like 62%," I replied with a smile.  He mocked hurt.  "Even after ice skating and the shoes?" he asked sweetly.  "Alright, 73%," I laughed.

Dinner was fantastic.  The s-i-l's mom made her famous moussaka, a Romanian eggplant dish with beef.  Now, here's a secret: a I can't stand eggplant.  I try so hard to fake it, especially to the 3 people who've made it for me this year (is eggpant a food of choice this year?).  What I love about her mom is that she figured it out, and in her charm and forwardness she separated just the meat and gave me a nice portion.  I might not like eggplant, but moussaka meat is absolutely fantastic if you ever get the opportunity to try it.

The college bro left a day early to be with his girlfriend.  I have to say, I'm so very impressed by him.  He has humor, responsibility, honor, and he has his shit together.  I couldn't be prouder if he was my own brother.

The bf, s-i-l, and I went to Breaking Dawn: Part 1.  His sister-in-law was cracking me up the whole time by asking those 'wtf' moments that happen every few minutes in a Twilight movie.  Holy fuck it was hilarious.  Then disturbing.  After each creepy blood/dying/16 and Pregnant scene I would whisper to her, "this is what happens when you have sex."  I hope I get to see the last film with her too--she's been my favorite movie partner by far.  Periodically I would look over to my boyfriend's confused face.  Indeed.  

I got to go ice skating one last time Saturday before our plane.  The bf walked with me as I skated and held my hand  We talked about our roommates and the language of science not being translatable to the masses. 

And so we were off.  I wished for that plane to take me back to Arizona.  Back to college.  Back to my favorite apartment with the colorful candles, lanterns, and throw pillows.  Back to my friends who could talk about anal sex and the world's problems over lunch without batting an eyelash.  Back to my classes full of protest and style and humanity.  Back to when my boyfriend was romantic and charming and the sex was fantastic and the food was cheap, and we would walk around town in the heat and sweat.  Back to being happily safe in that little college bubble of books and lingerie. 

We landed in San Diego and it felt different to me the moment we stepped onto the street--like we were in Hawaii or Anaheim.  I suddenly very much wanted to go out for some coconut shrimp and a romantic setting, and changed my mind about us not going out to dinner.  Maybe we can rebuild this.  Maybe we can be something better

He's picking me up at my place 8 for our date.  :) Now, where the hell is my eyeliner?...

*This all happened day 172-175.

http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-172-175-turkeys-family-and-vampires.html 

Day 168*-- A wedding 5 years late

Mmm.  Barbecue chips for breakfast.  I always seem to forget that when I move into a new house I need to buy groceries.  I had chips for dinner and no water in like 18 hours.  I'll get some sustenance once this post is over.  

I know that today is the 23rd, but I still want to write about the wedding that happened on the 19th--the whole reason I went up to the Bay this weekend.  I'm going to label this as Day 168 for this reason.

....

Let me start by saying that everyone in my family was against this wedding, including my grandma who said, "This is stupid" in the nicest way possible.  I only have one cousin (well, I have more, but I don't talk to that side of the family anymore), so it was a requirement to go to this thing.  You see, my cousin is 36, we have nothing in common as he's a starch techy capitalist and sees me as a hippy socialist, and they've already been married for 5 years. Hey, I don't mind a wedding a little later, but 5 years later is pushing it.

Anyway, my cousin's wedding was set for 12pm at the church on his old San Jose campus.  My boyfriend and I got there early and I very much appreciated how attractive he is in a suit with a little scruff.  My mom arrived soon afterward with her earpiece phone glued to her ear as always.  She was with my elder aunts Auntie Em and Aunt Eleanor, who were sisters of  my grandpa and both are spinsters.  Em travels around the southwest with her church group and Eleanor is a bitter old woman who hates everyone.  

I saw my Aunt Gena, the reformed 1960s wild child now Tea Party-er who got high when she visited me in San Diego this September.  She was meeting someone at a car and I should have known better than to interrupt.  But I want to hug her.  That person in the car was her ex-husband from 30 years ago, the father of my cousin, and his new husband.  I had no idea he was gay and was thoroughly excited for them.  

 

We went into the church and saw my last aunt Weez, the younger one at 44 who works at Yahoo, sings at clubs on weekends, is skinny as a rail, and was looking hot in her new gray dress I want to steal.  Her husband the musician was in his jeans, a felt suit jacket, his cap, and his long wild hair.  My boyfriend and him get along well.  The husband of Gena, Uncle Bucky, was there looking sharp as ever in his expensive suit.  He's the same age as my grandma, a former lawyer, went to Harvard, was in WWII, and is active in the community as a Republican. 

I looked around the beautiful church with its candles, painting, dark wood pews, and I missed God.  For the first time in years I blessed myself with holy water.  I don't believe in it, but it felt nice anyway.

My grandma showed up and started crying for about 4 seconds before she laughed, smiled, and started crying again.  I love that women.

We sat down and waiting for the ceremony to begin.  There was supposed to be 200 people attending this wedding but only about 100-125 people showed up.  Perhaps they too thought that the weekend before Thanksgiving wasn't the top option to go to a wedding 5 years too late.

When I saw that the bride was wearing a white dress, Miranda from Sex and the City popped into my mind.  If you're wearing a white dress after being a wife for half a decade, "the jig is up." But once "Ava Maria" starting playing tears came to my eyes and my cynicism melted.  She was beautiful.  

They looked truly happy together and maybe the whole wedding after being married thing has some truth to it.  Maybe there is something special about making a vow to something knowing full well that yes, this will work because we've already make it work this far.

I couldn't help but laugh though when the priest was discussing how divorce was a sin.  In our two tiny rows that made up our family: The groom's mom was on her second marriage to a great man who was always on his second marriage, then there was my grandma was was married for 55 years, then there was the groom's dad who's now married to a gay man, then there was my Aunt Weez and her husband both on their second marriages, then there was my mom who's on her second marriage to my step-dad who's on his second marriage with my mom, then there was my two elder aunts who've never been married, and lastly my boyfriend and I who've been together for 5 years with no plans of getting married.

I believe in marriage, but I also believe in divorce.  I've seen too many happy second marriages to not believe in divorce.  But I also believe in what marriage should be--a union and a partnership for life.

The wedding ended and my boyfriend and I took off to get my favorite food in San Jose: Happi House.  Fucking love that place.  We talked about the wedding and idea of marriage on the way there, and he agreed that maybe a wedding 5 years late is the way to do it.

The reception was at 4pm.  There was some chaos getting there and how bizzarely far away it was and blah blah blah but soon enough we got there.  I had a great time.  I danced with my mom, my musician aunt and uncle performed a bluesy version of "At Last", he danced with my grandma, and my boyfriend and I danced together.  

I have to say that my boyfriend was wonderful all night.  He was so charming and relaxed and made an effort to talk to every member of my family.  I realized then what my dad meant to my family and the hole that was left after his death.  My dad was the funny one, the one that pointed out the obvious and could make everyone a little more comfortable.  I missed him.  

While my boyfriend and my dad aren't exactly similar there is a slight pattern I'm seeing.  My dad was my mom's fun energy, the person who pushed her to go camping instead of working, the one who liked to drink and be merry, and was her bridge to a more social world.  But he wasn't responsible and later in life he wasn't nice.  My boyfriend is the one leading the discussion, the social smoker, the lover and romantic, the overall good soul.  But he's not responsible and sure as fuck hasn't been nice lately.  In seeing him at the wedding I missed him too.  I missed where we were at just two months ago when it was about going for walks and sex and cooking and pushing each other's careers.  Maybe we can get back there.

I'm so so glad he came up with me for the wedding and the reception.  I even liked when he poked fun at me when we were slow dancing because I don't know how.  I teased him that he'd have to take me out more often.  He smirked and kissed me.  Sometimes weddings bring out the worst in people and sometimes they bring out the best.

And so the night ended.  With the boyfriend's urging I stole a bedazzled salt and pepper shaker set for my grandma (she loved them when I gave them to her the next morning), and I made sure to hug each of my family members before driving home.  We're not much of a family but in that night we were.  I may not have believed in having a wedding 5 years late, but seeing that it brought my family together, made me believe in my relationship again, and made us all really happy for a night, I have to thank my cousin for his well-deserved delay. 

Day 167-- Conversations with Grandma

I love my grandma. In one conversation we talked about how she stuffed her bra during her wedding in 1951, universal heath care and why don't us poor people demand it, the power of writing the human story, how she believes in me going to NY with or without my boyfriend, and how she once saw the Virgin Mary in a bathtub.

I made it point to everyone that today was a grandma day.  I only have 3.5 days back in town and I didn't give a fuck what people thought: Friday was for grandma and no one else.

I got to the house when my mom was getting ready to leave for the wedding rehearsal and she quickly gave me a bunch of presents I didn't need and drilled me in why I was moving out of my boyfriend's house which I had to spin into a good thing.  Perhaps it's telling that throughout the night when she'd call she'd ask me if I like the gifts and if I could use them when I didn't give them a second glance.  Give me an hour talking to my grandma than all the gifts in the world.  But I'll talk about my mom in a different entry.

And so my g-ma and I talked--her in her favorite chair with the tape on the side to fix the cat scratches, and me on that old embroidered couch half sunken-in.  She talked about her bra stuffing and economy and we got into a discussion about my future plans in publishing and how I eventually need to move to New York or Boston to pursue a career there.

She's 100% behind me moving to New York and had one question: "When?".  I told her I prefer to move to places in the summer months and if it wasn't this summer than next summer and when I feel fully ready.  She asked me if my boyfriend would follow me.  I told her that I honestly didn't know.  She said to go anyway and that I needed to do what I needed to do and if it came down to it, he needs to do what he needs to do in San Diego if he won't follow.

We moved to the kitchen where I had brought her some fresh baked onion-herb bread from my favorite Danville bakery.  As she heated some things up we talked some more about careers.  Grandma: "What does [my boyfriend] do? Me: "You know medical marijuana? Grandma: "Yes." Me: "He's in the industry." Grandma: "Good.  He's helping people.  If they're sick, great.  If they just want it to get high, let them." Me: [surprised] "I'm glad to hear you say that."

We ate a typical-mixed-menu-grandma dinner of 1 teriyaki chicken strip per person, potpie served like mashed potatoes, some white rice, a ham-filled crossiant per person, and a chocolate chip muffin.  We talked about Obama and how much my grandmother hated George W. Bush. We talked again about hope.

Grandma: "You are an inspiring person to me." Me: "No, you are the best person in my life.  Honestly.  You give me hope and inspire me to pursue my dreams, and there just aren't a lot of people telling people my age to do that right now."

My aunt came over for a few mintues to feed the cats and bitch about the ridiculousness of the wedding tomorrow when they've already been married for 5 years.  She was going to the bridal shower, which was only further pissing my aunt off since the girl hasn't been a bachelorette in half a decade so isn't it inappropiate to expect a gift?

I stayed behind with grandma and joked that we'd have our own wild and crazy night. I painted her nails then painted mine as we talked about Half Moon Bay and all the trips she and my grandpa took there throughout 7 decades.  She was married to my grandpa for 55 years and had been with him for 60.  He was her first kiss and only love.  She talked about Regis Philbin and how they used to watch him together, and how she wants to write to him about me to help me get a job in New York.

I ended the night by telling her about running into the ocean at 3am in a little black with my boyfriend and some friends and how absolutely beautiful the ocean was that night. She smiled big and said she could picture it.  She's planning a trip to the beach next Spring with my mom.  Before I left somehow we got into a small debate on why my grandma doesn't like Adele.  Something about the melodies and how my grandma prefers the blues and swing.

And so I left her with her nails all shiny, that wry smile, her crooked back, and told her I'd see her tomorrow.

Day 166-- Reconciliation

I’ll write an entry tomorrow about tips on roadtripping because it is a bit of an art.  My boyfriend is one of my favorite travel companions because I play good music and he plays interesting podcasts.  We always bring snacks and he tends to do most of the driving there and I usually do most of the driving back.  We had a funny discussion during the car ride about me getting an iPhone to replace my lost ghetto-tastic 4 years old phone.  I honestly had the ugliest old phone in the world.

Eight hours later and it was a beautiful sadness driving back into our towns.  I thought of the little restaurant Saher and I had dinner at during the first winter break back from college.  I think we just ate dessert and talked about future days when we’d be there drinking glasses of wine and talking about our successful lives.  She’s in Virginia now and I don’t know when I’ll see her again.  I thought of my high school and, as bored as I was during my time there, it’s so strange that high school becomes an abstract place of memory for all of us instead of that concrete school it actually is.  I thought of my first apartment in Danville and the fresh baked bread every morning down the street.  I thought of Rae, my only friend still in the area, but she’s up in SF and I simply don’t have time to meet up this trip.

It was strange and lovely driving into town at 2:45am and realizing that my boyfriend and I are the only ones still standing.   I reached out for his hand.  He held it for a time and took it back during a turn.  With how things have been going lately I figured that was that.  But soon enough he reached out to hold my hand again and I felt peace.  I’m home again.

http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-166-reconciliation.html 

Day 165-- Living with a bf is hard

This has been a hard week.  I move out soon.


http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-165-when-living-with-boyfriend.html

Day 160--On roommates moving out and new ones moving in

In the past 72 hours one of my roommates has moved out, a new roommate as moved in, and I've written a deposit check so I can move into a new place next week.  It's been a crazy week.

http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-160-on-roommates-moving-out-and-new.html 

Day 162-- "A Fever You Can't Sweat"

Um...(laughs) 

What a bizarre weekend.  We had a party Saturday night that lasted until Sunday around 11:30 with four girls watching Mad Men and eating a Medifast brownie with French vanilla ice cream.  I was terribly sick, with my brain on a different planet for most of it.

I like my blog entries to be a more stand-alone in structure, and most of my seeds of thought in this entry will be spouting into more thought-out entries later in the week.  Lord knows I can go on forever about roommates, my post-grad future, and how to throw a party.  So bear with me as I ramble in pieces.

Saturday:

I was sent home early from work because I was so sick.  I looked "like shit" according to my favorite/former least favorite boss.  In my entire working career I've only left work early due to illness once, so know that I wasn't in good shape.

The party planned for our house was a bit an odd ball.  My boyfriend, who's social in a more BBQ with beer with the neighbors-kind of way, than a club/bar guy was the one who decided to throw the party in the first place.  He invited our dj friend and has been hyping it up for about two weeks.  

I came home while the roommates were putting up more Christmas-style lights around the living room and the bf went to get the keg.  Rule #1 about a party: good lighting.  As the girls put on their make-up, curled their eyelashes, picked our their outfits, and discusses metabolism, I found myself half sitting in the tub wearing capri tights and my green Sprite t-shirt trying to mellow out the pounding in my head, my achy feet, and clear up my sinuses so I could breathe.  

Cut to a few hours later and that familiar panic that no one is going to show up.  We, the roommates, starting dancing by ourselves and try to cheer ourselves up.  Around 10pm the dj showed up with about two dozen friends, and our friends showed up about 15 minutes later.  Thank God.  The music was thumping, the disco lights, and black lights, and Christmas-style white, blue, and orange lights were glowing, people were in a good mood in their skinny jeans and boots, and it was a dance par-ta.  

I got to dance with my roommates and with my boyfriend, who at the beginning of the night was twirling me in the kitchen and making me laugh, and towards the end of the night was more stressed out by dealing with the cops who came twice. 

I'll admit I was surprised that the cops came at midnight.  They're usually pretty cool in San Diego.  Anyway, round 2 of our party was with the roommates and neighbors and much lighter music getting drunk on shots and taking pictures of them planking around the house, and other wacky shots.  There's a picture of a few of us on the floor holding an umbrella someone stole last week.  Good times.

Sunday:

The dj spent the night so around 10am everyone was up and getting ready for mimosa's and another round of partying.  I spent most of the morning in bed reading online articles and resting my sick body and ripped up throat.  I didn't come out until around 1pm when the football game was on with techno music playing for sound and about a half dozen people drinking from the keg with tea cups.  

So much for making homemade chicken noodle soup and listening to the XX while recovering.  Despite my fever and memories getting confused with reality, I was rather content sitting with everyone on the couch watching the next game and the game after that, occasionally getting up to dance for retro songs like "Hey Ya" by Outcast.  Not your typical Sunday.  A few episodes of Mad Men later and the party finally ended around 11:30pm Sunday. 

Today (Monday):

Work was surprisingly pleasant.  Yes, I sounded like a sick frog, and yes that coffee shop I tried out sucked, but I got to bartend tonight to some loud Canadians and make some lunch money for the week in tips.  I got home late as usual but I was in a preening mood of good will and attraction.

All day I've been planning on gifts to give to my roommates before they take off tomorrow, and I want to buy my boyfriend something as well.  For the past week he was sick, then I was sick, then he got sick again because of me, and I'm still getting better, and we've just been off.  I want to get him a surprise gift to change the vibe and to invite him on a date with me on Friday (my day off) to go to the museums and a nice lunch.  Oh, and sex.  

Sidenote: does sex make one get over sickness faster?  Usually when I'm sick my skin feels funny so I want to be left alone.  This time I've craved just being held for human warmth and contact.  Since I got sick the bf has refused to kiss me because of germs, and then he has, and then he sulks when he feels under the weather again.  Dude, you got me sick.  Get over it.  Needless to say, I've missed sex.

Me being me--far too forward and not enough finesse--walked into our room after work today and announced: "We're having sex tonight.  Hard.  We haven't had sex in like a week and that needs to be changed.  Plus it's Monday [first day of my bc pack; lots of hormones]."  He's stupid response: "Maybe when you're healthy." Me: "You're sick, I'm sick, I really don't care." Him: "Any luck with those rooms?" Me: [smile dropping]. Him: [Trying to be playful]: "Maybe when you have good news too." Me: [Frustrated and annoyed] "Don't worry about it.  Him: [Trying to be playful and lighten the mood] "I'm just fucking with you." Me: "No, you're not.  Just forget it." [walked out of the room].

He's tried to make it up with me all night by rubbing me back and dancing foolishly in public, and he's taken a few moments to sincerely ask me how my room hunt is going and how he can be more supportive.  It doesn't help though.  He really touched a sore wound at the worst time he could have. I've tried to hide my irritation the best I can though because it is my roommate's last night in San Diego before she goes on her travels back to New York.

We all went to our favorite burger joint where the neighbors worked and enjoyed a mountain of onion rings.  My roommate leaving was in a really solid mood, talking about the people she's meet and places she's been, and craziness of the party this weekend.  She's glad her bike sold yesterday so she doesn't have to worry about it and she'll be returning her new camera tomorrow because it absolutely sucks.  She decided to stay out with our neighbor J, M, and the bf while my other roommate and I walked home (work at 7am).

In tomorrow's entry I want to talk more about her, and the sadness and hope that goes into a goodbye.  It's been a real honor hanging out with her this summer.  Oh, and a new roommate was just decided on today.  She's Canadian who's looking for a place to stay for 6 months.  My boyfriend didn't ask my opinion of her until last minute, which is a million miles away from the long discussions 4 months ago that we used to have about all of the candidates.  It resulted in JH, who's been perfect and is staying for now.  I have to go now, but I just I want to finish this with three more thoughts:

--I wish I hadn't been sick this weekend 

--I've applied to 13 different rooms in the past 3 days and finally heard back from 3

--I'm iffy about the new girl moving in because I see a hard edge the others don't

--I'm going to miss A but I'm damn proud of her for going on her adventures

--I know JH will be moving out in 2 months when her best friend from college moves back here.

--I'm really stressed about finding a new job and a place to live

--I hope my boyfriend can do something to change the mood with us because I'm over it as of now

--I miss my old roommates, I miss my old life, but I want SD to work.

--This weekend's party was one of the best I've ever been to.

 

Day 156-- Sick day

Today I am sick.  I starting feeling unusually thirsty around midnight, which is always the first sign.  That turned into a scratchy throat in the middle of the night which I tried to cure with gargling salt water and taking a vitamin pill.  Not getting enough sleep and having to leave the house by 6:30am for work didn't help.  I was feeling fine most of the morning but my throat starting burning by mid-day, and it's been downhill since then with a runny nose, slight headache/fever, and general not wellness.

Doesn't help that my boyfriend is being an asshole tonight because he feels sick and is blaming me (he was feeling off around 10pm; I felt off by midnight--do the math).

And it doesn't help that the room hunt isn't working out.  That sublet didn't email me back, and neither did my friend who's place was on craigslist (hint hint, I guess). So I'm really frustrated.  And the job hunt is overwhelming as well.  Basically, I wish I had my life together and instead I'm sick, recovering from a bladder infection, working at a crappy job, still crashing with my boyfriend, and on my period (then again, aren't we always glad when we get our period?  Not pregnant, lol!). 

Day 155-- When you're replaced by the "new girl" at work

There are about 14 different reasons why I hate my job* and this is number #14: Almost every day I come in, there is a shitty surprise waiting for me.  Today's surprise was a new girl.

Now I like new employees, honestly.  New blood refreshes the dynamic of a group, and can be a good excuse to relearn things I'm rusty on.  However, the bright and shininess of the new girl today only mirrored back my morose cynicism about my job.  Don't worry, I tried to hide it well and give her a good first impression.

She's new enough not to notice the ripped up carpets, or the piss-poor rooms for the price, or understands that "sass" from M. is just the beginning of her being a cold-hearted back-stabbing bitch, or has experienced missing out on holidays or Saturday nights or dinner with the person she loves, or having to cancel plans because work won't let her leave on time.  She's new enough to see it all as exciting, not a death trap of her spirits.

Maybe's she's just being 20 and she's only worked for 2 years with this being her fourth job and she lives at home so she only needs money for clothes.  I mean, 23 isn't that much older, but maybe that three extra years and 8* jobs (I'm including the internship, and working at an office for 2 weeks while my burnt foot healed at the coffee shop) has harden me to know the difference between good jobs and bad ones.  And maybe my money going to utilities and the dentists makes working less enjoyable.  I dunno.  Maybe I just really hate the hotel.

I started looking for a new job this morning.  It's a little harder than what it was at the beginning of the summer because now I'm not just looking for a job, I'm looking for one that's going to make me happy to be there.  Out of the 8 jobs, 4 of them were awesome so I know jobs like that do exist. Hope the new girl turns out to be my replacement!

*the other 13 Reasons I Hate My Job

1.) I work Saturday nights

2.) M. is a cold-hearted backstabbing bitch to me

3.) I never get to leave on time

4.) I work at a crappy-looking hotel

5.) I work nearly 9-hour days, plus an hour total commute round-trip to get there. 

6.) I hate being sent to the even crappier hotel, even if it is just to cover their lunch breaks

7.) I hate when they abandon me and make me work by myself.  I like co-workers.

8.) I get shit for taking time off for my grandma's birthday/my cousin's wedding/Thanksgiving

9.) The computers are slower than dial-up and the system is confused and out-dated

10.) I'm STILL waiting for the uniform

11.) My schedule changes every week by huge margins.  Ex. I got off work at 8:30pm tonight; I have to be there at 7am tomorrow.

12.) I don't make enough money

13.) I'm not able to get dental until next September

Day 154 -- Chipotle and other drugs

Not me

It's November 1st and I woke up this morning in the aftermath of Halloween at the beach, with sand on the floor, empty shot glasses on the table, and one Rainbow Bright costume somewhere in the house.

It was a more mellow Halloween in San Diego than I expected, but a good one.  I had to work all of Saturday night so half of my roommates went downtown, and my boyfriend went to a medical mj event, so by the time I got home I threw on my costume (a sexy book--it's hard to describe) and went to a dying down house party. On Sunday night we had an awesome little Halloween potluck kickback with homemade chili, shrimp fettuccine alfredo, green bean casserole, potato salad with turkey bacon, red wine, pumpkin pie, and Evil Dead 2.  The friends were good, the vibe was good, and Bruce Cambell's hand deserves an Oscar.    

Actual Halloween was rather enjoyable in 73 degree warm weather San Diego.  We all dressed up in our costumes and hit the beach to watch our neighbors surf in their outfits of Jesus, a sexy cowgirl, an escaped prisoner, a knight, an army man, and Nacho Libre.  Jesus kept losing his crown in the waves.  I left for work and returned home around midnight to find my boyfriend puking in our bathroom sink, with one of my roommates trying to fight off nausea in the living room in her Rainbow Bright outfit, and my other roommate trying to tend to her while still in her Sexy Raggedy Ann costume.

This morning was spent trying to remember what the fuck happened last night and cheers to a holiday well spent.

It was my first Tuesday off in over three months and it was damn glorious napping with the bf off and on during the afternoon.  I had to give an answer 'yes' or 'no' to this room I've been pursuing to rent, with the biting hesitation in my stomach more or less telling me what to do.  I love the location, the price, and the idea of having my own closet again, but the people are rather bland and removed, and I just don't want to live in yet another situation of loneliness in a big house.  I texted 'no'.

We went for a long walk through the neighborhood before heading to Chipotle for dinner burritos, and later sat in the parking lot of the grocery store imaging what the people walking by where saying in their heads and which girls have given road head.  The whole thing had us laughing for a good 45 minutes sitting in the car.  

A split pumpkin spice latte later and like typical post-grads we bought $40 worth of sandwiches and breakfast burritos, with the bf pretending not to read about Kim Kardashian's impending divorce in the aisle while I read one of the Christmas cookies magazines.

It was a Netflix night of Man on Wire, which I had to say fooled me with the impeccable reenactments, but was still quite an inspiring movie of passion and beauty.  Damn those French and their ability to make everything a little more glamorous!  

We watched the second half of Love and Other Drugs (not as good as the first half) before calling it a night.  So here I am listening to Rage Against the Machine and contemplating some hot chocolate before another round of looking for (a) different job, and (b) a cool new place to live.  Cheers, and happy November!