Organizing From The Inside Out

Yesterday, a trip to the bookstore yielded my second copy of Organizing from the Inside Out by Julie Morgenstern.

I previously owned the similar book geared toward teens, written by Morgenstern's daughter Jessi. Ironically, I somehow misplaced that book. I attribute that to my own disregard of the general rules in the book and not to a lack of good advice. The book was awesome.

I am now prepared to launch an all-out organizing assault on our small, one bedroom apartment.

The good thing is that since we moved in only a few months ago, we haven't accumulated a huge amount of unnecessary items. But because the place is so small with so few storage items, it has become very difficult to control the clutter in the house while keeping it as aesthetic as possible.

The main reason not much has been done to decorate is the fact that we don't intend on staying in this apartment beyond the lease, which is up in August. We didn't want to spend a lot of time and money making this place habitable when we knew we wanted to find a new place as soon as possible.

What I'm discovering, though, is our lack of organization here is affecting much more than just the items in our house. Bills we thought were paid are turning up forgotten, important dates come and go without regard, and our important documents end up in a huge pile under the cocktail table and thrown anywhere they will fit.

We don't have much up in the form of decoration, making the apartment look boring and simply as a place to sleep, eat (though not all of the time) and bathe, versus looking like a home.

Since this is the first piece of paper Jay and I have signed our names to jointly, it holds a very sentimental aspect. But the decor doesn't reflect that.

Our bathroom is tiny and I'm an impulsive beauty product buyer, which means I have toiletries on the rims of the bathtub, the sink shelf, in containers under the sink, spread through the medicine cabinet, in the closet, and in a hamper in the living room (which I would like to relocate or even get rid of, since it's simply a shit collector).

Don't get me wrong, the place isn't a mess. And clean up usually isn't terribly painful. But the fact remains that it is aesthetically unbecoming and the important things (mainly our finances) are being left in the wind.

I haven't actually started mapping out a plan for the apartment yet. I chose to review the book first, get a general idea of what I'd be getting into, then will reread the important parts to follow the steps necessary to get organized.

I do, however, have a general idea of how I would like for this place to look.

Most importantly, though, after realizing my own goals and plans for reorganizing and decorating this space, I need to talk to Jay about his own expectations of space, living conditions, and budget agreements. After all, he lives here too (and now pays the bills) so I need to make sure whatever I do will benefit both of us, not cause more stress and problems.

I'll be documenting my progress as I go along, so you can follow along in the steps I do and maybe my journey will help you get organized, too.

Let the project begin...

Ahhh, Technology

I would like to take a moment to thank all of the computer/phone geeks in this world.

I don't mean geeks like me, either. I'm a bit of a geek, but the only reason I can do so much with a computer/phone is because I've learned the value of Google. And I use it quite often.

I mean the geeks who actually sit at home and work out the solutions to our everyday computer problems, then post their findings on the Web for all us lazy geeks to Google. You guys are awesome.

See, I was in a period of need. My laptop has probably breathed it's final breath (piece of shit HP...goddammit...way to put out an extended warranty and cover all laptops BUT mine...motherfuckers...mother board problems...you know how much mother boards cost???).

Unfortunately, my LIFE was on that computer. Meaning, of course, my music library and my iTunes. Now, my iPhone used to be synced to Jay's computer, which worked out just fine because his piece of shit computer at least will TURN ON. But I sacrificed over 1.000 songs from his computer so I could put my 1300 or so from my own computer onto my phone. Then I copied as many songs as I could from his library onto a flash drive and transferred them over.

Yeah, that was a lot of work.

Needless to say, that's all gone. And my iPhone is currently the only proof that I have a music library. It took me well over a year to rebuild my library after the LAST time my computer fucked up and I had to restore to factory settings.

I'm not wiping out my music again.

But I'll never use iTunes again. So what do I do? Google!!

How to put music on iPhone without using iTunes.

I found some interesting little tidbits, but I was directed to a program called CopyTrans Manager. So I downloaded it...and it's A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Then I downloaded another nifty little program called iRinger. Now thanks to my CopyTrans Manager and iRinger, I not only have stolen all kinds of music from Jay's computer (muahahahaha) but I also have created custom ringtones for my iPhone. So whenever my phone rings you hear:

"Til we die, niggas just don't know...PAYBACK IS A MOTHERFUCKER WHEN YOU FUCKIN WITH THE PSSSYYYYYYCCCCHHHHOOOOO!!!"

(That would be from the song "Do Whatchu Wanna Do" by Psychodrama.)

I like to think about it this way. The price for an iPhone is highway robbery any way you look at it. You're paying an exorbitant amount for it, whether your money goes toward the purchase of the phone or towards the damn near $100/mo plan.

I'm sorry. I'm not gonna pay $250 for the phone, then $100/mo for the shitty plan AND some ringtones.

Honestly, people will do anything they can to make a dollar, even off something as stupid as having a special song when your phone rings.

And don't get me started on Callback tones or whatever THE fuck those things are called...you know when you call somebody and the ring is a song?

No offense to anyone who has that. But it doesn't make any sense.

Why would I spend money so OTHER PEOPLE can enjoy a song? If I'm gonna spend money on a song, I want that song to play whenever I call someone else.

I mean, are the people who call me gonna contribute to the cost of that particular call back tone?Probably not.

More than likely, they won't even mention it. I won't get a "Hey girl, your callback tone sure is neat!" or "Demiera, I want a callback tone just like yours, where'd you get it?"

But.

If I'm in the company of someone else with an iPhone who has not yet learned the (not-so-huge) secret of putting your own custom ringtones on your phone and my phone happens to ring, I will get a "Whoa, dude, you got ringtones on your phone? How'd you do that??"

Bingo...

Plazo Sesamo

So last night I came to a huge conclusion about why I can't speak Spanish fluently given my 11 years (okay, okay, you can pick your jaw up off the floor now) of Spanish class in school.

I mean, it's kind of embarrassing to have devoted that much time to learning a language you still aren't fluent in.

If you want to learn a language, any language, you need to make sure you're learning it by associating the foreign word with an object, not a word.

Let me say that again. Associate foreign words with objects, not words.

This is going to sound crazy, but Jay and I watched Sesame Street... en espanol... it was the best learning experience ever. It's a completely visual process, and I was intrigued by how well I felt I could grasp the show, even though it was entirely in Spanish.

Yes, I know. It's a kid's show. But I was learning, dammit.

I learned that a mariposa is a butterfly, how to say the letter "M", and that if you can't sleep, you say no puedo dormir.

The fundamental error in the way most advanced Spanish teachers teach Spanish is that they tend to associate words and phrases in Spanish with words we use in English. In other words, it's a huge conjugation exercise.

This method of teaching leads to failure, because a person cannot feasibly learn to speak a language when they force their brain to follow so many steps to communicate. You make yourself do extra steps.

Let's say the task at hand is for someone to say a phrase to me in Spanish, and I have to also respond in Spanish.

Sounds pretty simple and straightforward, right?

For me, it's not. Let's say the phrase is "Que quieres comer?"

Step one: I must translate this phrase into English. The phrase means "What do you want to eat?"

Step two: Now that I've translated the phrase into a language I speak fluently, I can finally think of how to answer the question. Suppose I want chicken (no black comments please...JAY :P). Now I formulate my response in English: "I want chicken."

But wait. The task is for me to answer the question in Spanish, not in English. So the third step is for me to translate my response into Spanish. My answer would be "Quiero pollo."

It may not sound like an unreasonable task, but imagine your brain having to follow this process every time you attempt to understand a sentence in Spanish. I spend so much energy and attention translating the phrase that I don't have a chance to understand what's going on.

Thus, the fundamental flaw in my learning: the association of Spanish to English words, not to the objects they represent.

I can look at an apple and tell you it's a manzana. I can look at the color green and tell you it's verde. I can look at the number 15 and tell you it's quince. Anything I was taught through simple repetition, however, is gone.

Likewise, I picked up a couple of words they don't teach you in class, like pendejo. What's funny is I don't even know the English translation for this word, but I can use it in everyday language. Like when I called the cat a pendejo for knocking everything off the table.

If you're trying to learn a different language, don't try to read a book about learning it or buy those stupid computer programs that make you repeat phrases from English translations, because at the end of the day you're only going to end up frustrated. I really believe if you do it right you can become fluent in a language for (almost) free.

Immerse yourself in the language. I live around a couple of Mexican restaurants and supermarkets, so whenever we go to the store I'm associating names with meats and fruits. I look at menus and try to learn there. It's a never-ending process, but I must learn Spanish before I have children... I want them to be bilingual but I have to be first, or else I'll never know what they're talking about...

Adios...!

Should Have Seen It Coming...

Dear Life,


Today, I got fired.


Never been fired before...but I suppose there's a first time for everything.


The general manager was nice about it...and he may have been lying, but it seemed like he really didn't want to fire me. I guess that's why I'm not mad. He said I'm a great employee but not for the job I was working.


Which I was expecting. I knew by the end of this month I probably wouldn't be there anymore.

Still.


Let the record show that I worked my ASS off at that job. I never gave up. I asked for help, I researched, I did everything I could. I trained another person so well they bumped her up TWO departments. So obviously I did know what I was doing. I had the mechanics of the job down, the steps to follow, the scripts to read.

At the end of the day, though, I'm just not a collector.

I had hoped that in this job, I would learn to be more aggressive. I had hoped I would learn to be less afraid of doing certain things. I had hoped that through this experience I would learn how to be more assertive, how to go after what I want. I learned a different lesson from this. I learned that sometimes, desire to do well isn't enough. I learned that others can help you only so far...the rest comes from within. Yes, I worked hard and that was obvious. Yes, I put forth my best effort. But I was really just running at top speed on a treadmill...wasting all my energy and not going anywhere. It was a waste of time for both me and the company.

Of course, I'm being completely logical minded on the outside. But I still have tears waiting to fall. I won't say I'm not accustomed to failing but I'm certainly not used to failing at things I put real effort into. But I will not allow myself to think this was all for nothing.

Time to dust myself off, listen to some feel-good music, clean up the house, eat some comfort food, and start the search for a new job. No time to sit and dwell on failures or setbacks...life moves way too fast for that...

Dreaming...

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The time I ever answered that question (that I can remember) was when I was around 3 or 4 years old. I wanted to be a firefighter, and I was convinced I'd grow up to be the best fire fighting machine around.

Ah, how times change.

Over the course of the years, my dreams evolved. I went from fire fighter to nurse to teacher to lawyer to forensic psychologist to lawyer again to high powered business woman.

Now that it's time for me to actually put my dreams in motion, I'm at a loss.

Somehow when you're younger it's much more fun to think about what you want to be when you get older. Maybe it's the fact that when you're young, your dreams remain largely that: dreams. You can't really do much for your dream of what you want to be when you grow up because you normally need to grow up first.

I'm being faced with this decision much earlier than I expected or wanted to be, but in a way it's my fault. I'd rather not be one of those people who spends 20-30 years at a job they hate because they were too afraid to confront their dreams and make them work.

The thing about a dream is there is a reason a dream remains a dream. There's always some obstacle between it and reality.

What do you do when the obstacle lies not in achieving the dream, but in determining the dream itself?

Talk Like You're The Ish

So, Jay and I were conversing on the eloquent art of collecting large balances from a big company.

He's the brilliant mind with the talk. So he, joking around, rolls off the tongue with this smooth operator ass talk off. I mean, it was perfect. He showed no hesitation, no shame, no stuttering. His voice was strong, convincing. He could care less if the person paid the debt and you could hear it...made me wanna go get my checkbook.

And I'm sitting there listening to him, trying to decide whether I should grab a pen and paper and take notes or just be jealous as shit that he can talk like that and I can't.

Teach me to talk like that, I begged him.

"Talk like you're the shit," he says, and leaves it at that.

I couldn't talk like I was the shit if I literally was a pile of feces.

My biggest problem is that I never took the time to develop confidence...I'd always thought that if I weren't the highest form of modest, I would come off as arrogant. In doing so, I think I've wandered to the most extreme end of the modesty spectrum and become rather comfortable with not having that face that point in my life.

And now, I have to. My job requires it, my living situation requires it, my responsibilities require it. I need to learn to have my own voice and not be afraid to share it.

So what should I do? I mean, should I stand in front of the mirror every day and just tell myself I'm the shit until I start to believe it? Should I find a mantra and post it on my desk to look at on every call to remind myself that I'm in control?

Not gonna lie...for about a week, I did feel like I was the shit. I was popping big payments left and right, and I was feeling great. Then something happened and BOOM...the confidence was gone. I never found it back.

So guess what...if it takes chanting a mantra between each call, I'll do it. If it takes waking up 5 minutes early so I can give myself a proper mirror pep talk before starting my day, so be it. If while I'm bored I gotta write down my frustrations to keep them out of mind so I can stay focused, then I'll write away. Put my phone away during work. Do nothing but focus on doing what I need to do to get what I need.

I'm not going to go in there tomorrow with my chest all puffed out, thinking I'll get paid on my first call. It doesn't work that way.

But it IS about time to get in, kick ass, and take names later.

Let's do this.

A Prayer

Dear God:

I haven't prayed in a while, I know. It's got nothing to do with a lack in faith in you and everything to do with me wanting to be an independent spirit and make it on my own.

But I can't do it. Something's truly wrong. I wake up nauseous almost every morning, and I'm not pregnant. Staying up past 10 is an accomplishment, and once I'm sleep I'm OUT. I don't eat, I'm always worried, and reportedly I talk in my sleep now too.

I'm sure my afflictions are my emotions breaking through to a physical medium, where they may actually be acknowledged. I start crying out of nowhere, and honestly if you asked me why I was crying I wouldn't be able to tell you. I get angry at the snap of a finger at the smallest things...to the point of almost cursing out unsuspecting jewellers or almost jumping out the car to destroy a UPS truck that cut us off (true story).

Could stress really be the driving force behind all of this? Or is there something more serious?

I don't want to wake up crying anymore. I don't want to continually pass out at 8 at night anymore. I don't want to snap at Jay anymore, I don't wanna wake up to find out I've called him something truly derogatory in my sleep (I'm so sorry, by the way). I don't want to wake up asking "Can I quit today?". I don't want to go into work knowing that I may be suspended today, or knowing that the end of this month could be the end of my employment just because I've been threatened with the pink slip twice already.

Yes, God, the solutions are easy. Keep your head up. Find a new job. Don't complain about it. Talk to your managers, talk to their managers, talk to HR, talk to somebody. Keep a positive attitude. I've been listening, I swear I have. But as logical as I like to think I am, I also know that I'm an emotion-driven creature, and that if I stifle or try to falsely confront my emotions, eventually they're going to affect me in other ways...like physically.

So first, I pray that you give everyone around me the patience to deal with me...especially Jay. He gets the brunt end of my frustration, depression, and anger and it's not fair.

I'm so confused, God. I don't lead a bad life. I have a wonderful fiancee, my own apartment, and a job where truthfully if I didn't feel so stressed I'd probably have the potential to do really well. I've got a great set of best friends, and even though I haven't seen them in a while I still do care about each and every one of them. I'm finally getting the family support I've wanted for years and years. Why can't I just embrace that and be happy? Why am I continually depressed?

Please, just give me the strength to make it through this. Give me the confidence to not come out of each day beaten. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet and know that no matter what life throws at me, the only thing that can truly make me fall is myself.

Please and thank you, God.

Love,
Demiera

G.I.N.G.E.R.

So, last week on the fly (as all my somewhat stupid decisions tend to be) I decided I wanted to color my hair.

So to Ulta we go in search of the perfect box coloring kit. After some careful deliberation and help from a friendly associate, I buy the box that's supposed to make my hair look like a caramel delight and head home to start my makeover.

Of course, it didn't matter to me that I've never colored my whole hair before and the last time I tried putting any kind of chemicals in it ended in a big FAIL (that would have been my attempt to do semi-permanent highlights, which also ended up in a mess and a red bathroom but at least it didn't look too bad so I kept it).

Also not factored into my snap decision: the fact that I'd washed my hair that very day (big no-no) and that it's very difficult to see the back of my head with the mirror. Which meant I had to ask Jay to highlight the back of my hair for me.

After about 3 hours of sitting, dropping hair dye all over the bathroom, and some fussing back and forth, I rinsed out the final step of bleach to discover a huge chunk in the back of my head (and a little to the left) was almost completely blonde, while other random chunks and streaks were anywhere from a golden brown to the caramel they were supposed to be, and the front of my hair had some hints of red [because I completely disregarded the warning that said not to color over semi permanent highlights]. My hair literally blended in quite well with the surrounding autumn leaves.

As you can imagine, I was mortified. And I had to go to work the next morning with my hair all different shades of FUGLY.

So straight from my job went we to the hair salon down the street, to see what they could do with my now damaged strands. $60 later, I looked like this:


At least my streaks are now all even. I wasn't going for the redhead look but I guess it isn't all that bad....not that I'm going to do anything to change it any time soon. My poor hair was fried from that whole ordeal. I've finally gotten it back almost to how it used to be but you can tell it's no longer as healthy as it was before :(.

Speaking of hair...it's about time for me to start working on it for work today...

Picture Perfect

So...Charlie Murphy is DEFINITELY the star of the house now. He's not terribly photogenic. As a matter of fact, he normally swats at or tries to bite my phone whenever I try to take his picture.

This morning, though, I was sitting on the couch attempting to pull my boots on. Charlie Murphy, being the ever attention hungry little sweetheart he is, jumped right into my lap and looked at me with the "don't leave me, just stay here and pet me" face. And for the first time he let me snap a picture that truly shows how adorable he is all of the time.

And I swear if I didn't have to be at work, I would have stopped what I was doing to chill with him. Even now, as I sit on the couch with my feet propped up blogging, he's laying on the floor directly underneath my legs sleeping. Whenever I'm in the living room or kitchen, he's never far away, no matter what I'm doing.

So cute.

Sensing Some Paranormal Activity?

Finally...I can sit down and blog. It's 8 in the morning and I don't have to be at work until 11 so I'm sitting here with my mug of coffee, ready to unload everything that's been built up.

The night before last Jay and I went to a screening of the movie Paranormal Activity.

Dude.

That movie was fuckin awesome.

Jay, a huge scary movie skeptic, was even spooked. It's got a very Blair Witch Project feel with the whole documentary idea, but it's ten times scarier.

The trailer doesn't even do it justice. Had you seen the first trailer for it, you wouldn't think it was worth watching. For once, the trailer doesn't spoil the movie, let me tell you. And the audience reactions you're gonna see are not simulated. People actually walked out the movie not because it sucked, but because they were so terrified they couldn't stand to watch it.

I can't stress this enough: GO SEE IT.

Development on the job: basically, I didn't get moved into anything clerical.

In fact, they told me they can't keep me in a position I don't want to be in, and on the spot I needed to decide whether I wanted to stay or go.

WTF.

I chose to stay, only (and I do mean ONLY) because Jay asked me to, asked me to stick it out at least until I found another job. Because for once, money wasn't a good enough reason for me to stay at a job. For once, I'm ready to just pack my little cubicle of shit up, all of which would fit neatly into my purse, and chunk up the deuce. I'll worry about the money later.

And though Jay gracefully landed the AT&T gig, is passing training with flying colors, and is more than able to support me, I still want my own job and my own money. So I took his advice, and chose to wait it out.

On the managers' part, they did move me to the more productive side of the floor, so I'm surrounded by people who can help me get money. And I've been staying afloat, not necessarily doing the best, but I'm keeping my nose a centimeter above water level.

I'm thankful to have a job, and glad to have had this opportunity to find out that collections ISN'T for me. Now it's time to move on.

And last but not least, we have a new addition to the family: Charlie Murphy!

He's a 10 month old kitten. We had to drive over to Indiana to pick him up. He's the sweetest little thing, except at night when he decides to pounce on our feet as we're sleeping. And he's a spoiled BOLD little sucker too...will come right up to your carton of ice cream, stick his head inside, and commence eating like it's his.

I've told Jay we can't keep feeding him the table food though. His little digestive system can't handle all that. So we'll see how it goes.

Wow, it felt great getting all that off my chest. Now to get dressed for work :/...

Excuses, Excuses

I've determined that at this point, when I'm ready to purchase a car, I won't be able to buy a car. I'll need an SUV of some sort.

My revelation came to me as I was attempting to parallel park Jay's 2002 Pontiac Grand Am (nice ass car...I freakin love it!). Recently I've gotten better with the whole parallel thing, but before I was terrible at it in the car, needing to pull out and back in 4 or 5 times before I got it right and didn't hit the curb (or gently nudge another car). Of course, I politely nudged the car behind me and that's when I realized it:

I'm not used to accomodating for a trunk.

Sure, in range they had little Ford Tauruses to learn on, but I learned the street language of driving in my mom's Grand Caravan. Vans and SUVS don't have that extension, so you don't have to calculate your space. You can look through the back mirror and back up as far as you need to without any extra allowance.

Such is not the case in a car. And it throws me off, which is why I do terribly.

Meaning Operation Get-Me-The-Acura-MDX-I-Hinted-At-For-Christmas is now underway in full force...

I made a very important decision at my job. I went to my manager yesterday and requested that I be moved into a clerical position versus being a collector. I'll admit, I was terrified to ask because things are different now from when I got hired. The woman who hired me said that the company won't fire you if you're not a good fit for a particular position; as long as you're working they'll try to find a fit for you elsewhere in the company.

That was before management changed and all the old managers were either demoted or fired (or quit). So even though my new manager is pretty cool and seems like a good guy, I was scared my request would be grounds for my termination, even though it's brutally obvious to anyone who looks at my numbers that I shouldn't be in a collector position.

But I got a reaction quite different from what I expected. The manager actually stops what he's doing, looks at me, and goes "You're dead serious?"

Yes. I am SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK. Which I am going to end up having before I hit 21 if you don't move me into a calmer, less aggressive position.

Apparently, he and the general manager had been discussing getting another clerical employee anyway, due to backlog and the amount of duties the clerical positions have to do. So had I not mentioned it at all, they probably would have hired someone else or moved another collector into the spot.

On second thought...I really suck at collecting...So maybe I was the front runner anyway...hmmm...

The Never Ending Cycle

Come in. Assess the damage left from the morning, when you were too busy getting dressed to care about a mess. Step over the rejected clothing options on the floor, maybe wrappers from a granola bar you scarfed down as you got dressed. Sit on the couch and kick off your shoes. Leave them there, because you're happy to finally be sitting at home. You've been sitting at work all day too, but it's different from the comfort of your couch.

You don't turn the tv on automatically, because your work day flashes in your head and you have a moment of reflection. The silence is a blanket, comforting you. Today was just one of those days, a day others might deem successful but on the inside you were suffering. This isn't the job for you, or maybe it is but you haven't found your niche yet. It hurts because you're not used to this, and nobody understands why a bad day impacts you so much but you're not acquainted with failure, while now it feels like you flirt with it every day. You see your quota, and your goal is crawling up to it, but it never hits. The day it hits is never the day you get rewarded for it, either.

You sigh in exasperation. Do you stick it out? Do you look for a new job? The job search in itself is a job. And beyond that, do you want to give up so easily? Will you appear weak? Will your resume show consistency in holding a long term job, or will they count your search for the perfect job as a sign that you can't hold one?

What is it about your current job that you don't like? Is it the competition? Or the fact you're not doing as well as you'd like?

All at once, you come back to reality and realize you've been sitting in absolute silence for 5 minutes staring at the wall. You want to reflect more, but there's something criminal in spending too much time thinking about work at home so you flip through the channels, searching for some mindless sitcom to immerse yourself in. They're always so delightfully unrealistic, and they create the perfect escape from reality.

At some point, you decide to eat. And at 9:00pm, you fall asleep (despite all efforts to stay awake to watch the game/movie/tv show) and stay in bed until the next morning, when you wake up and still complain about being tired.

And the cycle begins again...

Time For Change

I've come to the executive decision that I need to change a couple of things in my life. Starting with this blog appearance. It's been with this blue deal for quite some time (I don't even remember when I did this) and I'm getting kind of tired of it. I want my blog to reflect that I am a writer, that I express myself through the use of words, and also to reflect my personality. This dark makes me depressed, doesn't really capture my attention.

And you know a blog needs a makeover if it doesn't capture the blogowner's attention anymore.

I also want to make writing more a part of my every day life, like it used to be. I've noticed with my job and living with someone, I haven't spent enough reflective time with myself, re-evaluating the decisions I make on a day-to-day basis and just pouring out those feelings and emotions I'm not comfortable expressing in any form other than writing.

To be completely honest, blogging became a chore, which is why I haven't done it. I forgot the true reason behind me starting this thing in the first place: as an outlet. A place where I can basically tell-all without restraint, a place where I don't need to hide or wear a mask to hide who I really am. Yes, most people use the Internet to become someone they're not...I'm using the Internet to find out who I really am.

I'm not going to hold myself to a blogging schedule...never have. Any writer, producer, or creative talent knows that inspiration comes when it's ready, not when you force it. My other blog, Cellulary Extraordinary (which I thought had some real potential when I started it) became a chore because I wanted to keep it updated every day. I forced myself to devote time to it. But when something comes from within, and you truly enjoy it, you don't force yourself to do it. You just do it.

I'm also going to start up writing my novel again, a dream I've literally held on to since about the 5th grade. I originally wanted to be one of the youngest authors to write a novel and got pretty damn close more than once too. But I always gave up. I threw 100+ page manuscripts away without a second thought. So as I've promised a long time ago, I'm going to start it up again. And I'm going to share passages with you. Critique them, read them, guide me, whatever.

And in addition to all of this, I plan on starting to write poems again.

Part of this is a result of me not being in school and not wanting to lose the knowledge I've got, at least until I start back again. I also realize that I'm becoming *slightly* dumbed down by all of the television I watch and video games I play and magazines I read. So on my next shopping trip, instead of buying shoes and clothes and hair stuff, I'm gonna buy some books. I need to start reading again.

The change sounds radical, but I'm excited...I need this. I need to get focused again on what I'm trying to do with myself and where I'm trying to go in life.

For now, though, I'm off to find new designs for the blog... :)

Thoughts...

There comes a time in every one's life when we have to stop and think about what it is that makes each one of us so special and different, and to become aware of what we have to offer to the human race.

I wanted to discover, in a sense, what I'm worth. Not in monetary or materialistic terms, but in spiritual terms. What is my contribution to society?

I don't want to be one of those people who realizes their dream too late. Sure, people will always say it's never too late to find your place, yadda yadda yadda. But there's nothing appealing to me about looking back 50 years from now shaking my head and wondering why I pissed away so many years. At the same time, you want to think that the whole point of life is the discovery of what you're here for, what major life objective were you put here to complete. Because life is full of that, right?

I mean, I look at what I'm doing now. I'm working full-time, living the life of a full-fledged adult...and I'm only 20! But I'm happy. A part of me sees the students around me, wishes to be one of them. I feel like every day I'm getting more and more immersed in television and radio and music and less and less based on books and literature. For that reason, I'm ready to return.

But it's hard to leave the freedom having a steady paycheck can afford. I'm nowhere near ready to go back to being just a full-time student, either.

More deliberation later...

I should be sleeping. Instead I lay in bed, fully clothed, contemplating. How am I supposed to sleep comfortably when things are going the way they are?

He lost his job, then his home. It's the story so many Americans tell these days. All that's left are memories of the days when money was not an issue and a bond stronger than unemployment or homelessness.

And though I try to stay strong for him, for myself, for US, I can't help but realize I hurt more each day. Adolescent acne has returned to my once clear face with a vengeance; my once even toned skin is blotchy and yellowed from malnourishment, because I won't eat if he isn't. My eyes are swollen and sore from days of sobbing, my lips swollen from wailing and screaming. But the countless tears do nothing but pave the way for more salty emissions streaming down my cheeks, endless waterfalls that can't and will not stop.

My eyelids are beginning to droop and my muscles hurt. So I will lock this pain in a lockbox that will keep it out of my way for the time being.0

Me? A Hypocrite?

Before I say anything else, let me say that I'm such a hypocrite. You'll find out why a little later.


Facebook is a trip. I don't understand why people take so much literally on Facebook. It's a social networking site, and it's online. Why do you think that everything I put up there is true? And what's more, why do you think that I care about what you say about what I put up there?

I decided to marry Jay on Facebook. Now, it's not exactly untrue but we're not married (yet). Now, if you've ever married someone on Facebook, you know how it shows up on everybody and their momma's page and then the comments start coming in. The funniest comment? A call from a guy I knew way back when who left me a hilarious "you have made a big mistake" message on my voice mail (I saw him call me but wondered why the hell he was calling and ignored it lol).

Hater.

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Back to me being a hypocrite. I have some news to share:

I bought an iPhone 3GS.

That doesn't sound like earth shattering news, but you have to remember I've been dead set AGAINST the iPhone movement for quite some time.

Oh well. The phone is freakin awesome.

More on that later...

8-5

Today was my first day of work at my new job.

For security reasons, I can't tell yous the exact name or location of the place I'm working at. But just know I'm pursuing a career in collections.

I know, I know. The first thing anyone does when they realize I'm doing collections now is shy away and go "ewww...you're one of those," all disdainful and such. The second thing they tend to do is say "now if you see MY name, don't call me!" Jay even went so far as to say that if I called him (because he KNOWS he has an account with the agency I work for) that he'd curse me out.

I politely informed him, of course, that should he do that to me that he wouldn't live past 5:05 to tell the tale.

To be quite honest, I sat in a training room today with people who wouldn't dream of doing anything but collections. And the truth is, it's good ass money. Sure, your hourly is gonna be crap, but the bonus check is what you're really there for. That bonus check is what makes all the difference.

I'm actually considering staying at DSW for a period of time, if only for the discount. Which I may not even have to do if I don't want and if the collections thing works out.

I'm also on a mission tonight to speak to an admissions representative to get enrolled in online classes at the University of Phoenix.

My life is finally getting back on track...

Who's Life Is This Anyway?

So...I got the job. And I couldn't be more happy or proud of myself. As I wrote in my last post, I found this job unaided, and I did everything I needed to do to secure it unaided.

Be that as it may, however, my decision to pursue a full-time job/career has been met with some resistance by a few people close to me. It appears what they want me to do and what I've chosen to do aren't quite along the same track.

The job is quite a distance away from my house, so that created a little bit of discord. But the biggest issue is the premise that by me getting a full-time job, I won't be going back to school. Basically, everyone wants me to go to school full-time and worry about working later. I'd rather work and go to school part-time so that I can have some money in my pocket, be independent, and still advance in life.

It hurts like hell that every time I make some progress, whether it be finding a job or making plans to move out or even going to a school that was below everyone else's expectations, there's always a crew of people there downplaying it and making me feel like shit.

I hesitate to refer to them as "haters" because normally haters don't have nothing so they're jealous of anyone who does. I'd refer to this crew more as the "pedestal bunch". They put someone on a pedestal and if things don't go exactly how they want them to go, something's wrong with that person.

No, I'm not living the life everyone else seems to want for me. And I'm sorry. I'm telling anyone who wants a say in how I live my life that I'm so sorry I can't live up to your standards. I'm so sorry I'm not leading the life you want me to lead. But it's my life to lead. And if I'm happy, you should be happy too.

But I guess I'm not entitled that...

Some Thoughts

I used to feel terrible about not being in school, about only working a part-time job, about not doing well in certain classes. I used to think that I didn't know what I wanted from life, and if someone asked me I would give a roundabout answer (or tailor my answer to fit what I figured they would want to hear, depending on the person). And I felt horrible for it, because it made me feel like I wasn't finding my purpose.

But I came to a realization today after an interview at a job I hopefully will get (so far it's looking good; I just gotta keep my fingers crossed). All the preparation I did for this position, with the background research and the sending my resume and cover letter and the interview and finding the perfect outfit and traveling to the place TWICE just to see how long it takes to get there and where it is...all that preparation was because this is something I truly want. It's not what anyone else wants for me but what I really want for myself.

It isn't about the position itself. Nor is it really about the pay (though it's a nice increase from what I make now, plus bonuses, plus benefits after 90 days). It's not about me needing to get some sort of professional trade. It's more about the independence of the thing, and the independence this job will grant me.

I found this job on my own. I applied for it on my own, and obtained an interview on my own. I went through the interview on my own, and researched the place and possible questions they might ask me on my own. I did it all myself, on my own accord, with my own motivation. Jay helped me get there, and supported me and relaxed me before my interview and encouraged me. But as far as the work goes, I did it alone. And it feels amazing.

What's interesting is, a family friend extended an offer to me with the promise of securing an interview at the Trump Tower here. And it pays even better than the place I obtained myself. But I've dedicated NO time to pursuing that lead, because to be honest I don't want another job I have to have help getting. I'm not ungrateful; in fact, I'm very thankful he thought of me for the position. But I would just rather do it by myself.

To me, the means of obtaining something is more important than the thing itself.

I would have loved to live in a tiny apartment with my mom growing up versus the lovely three bedroom home we live in now with my grandmother. Sure, the quality of living would have decreased significantly, but an apartment would have been ours. I would have sacrificed the luxury of the big house to have the feeling that it was something we worked for ourselves. Because nice things aren't quite as nice when you don't have to work for them. Part of what is so humbling about life is struggle.

When I get older, I want to look on the things I've done and the goals I've achieved and have the sense of knowing that I did everything I did with hard work and determination and that I have nobody to thank for my success but myself and those who supported me. It may sound crazy, but I'd rather live modestly and comfortably but independently than to live lavishly but to know my success depends solely on the discretion of someone else.

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On a livelier and completely unrelated note, I got a gift from Jay about a week ago: rose colored Louis shades!! Look for their debut in an upcoming post.

The Day After

It creeps up ever so slowly, ever so quietly, waiting for the right moment to strike. Moments of loneliness, moments of self-reflection, moments when one has nothing but their own thoughts to occupy them. It waits in the deepest and darkest of corners, crouched and ready for attack, preying on the vulnerable and the naive.

It's grief.

I didn't think I'd feel quite as sad going through this whole ordeal given my thoughts on not being able to support a child and needing to get my life together first. But I've got an unshakeable lump in the back of my throat and a nauseated feeling in the bottom of my stomach, and I feel the tears just waiting behind my eyelids.

Everyone's told me to think of it as God's will and to be glad I didn't have to make the decision on my own. which I've adopted as my belief. Or at least, tried to. It's easy to make myself believe that that's the truth, especially when heard from those who have been through what I've been through and knowing how they reacted.

But this loss is...traumatic, in a way. I was 8 weeks along, and in that time I went through a lot of sickness and call-offs and ginger ale and peanut butter crackers and extra sharp cheddar cheese and running through the city for the *right* dill pickle. I gave up my ability to wear heels because they made me lightheaded. And though I was sick often, I kind of liked the idea of having a child.

See, I don't think there's a certain age people should wait until to get pregnant. If you're self-sufficient and able to take care of yourself, and you're responsible, then go ahead and have a child. The time is different for everybody, I just know that at this point in my life I'm not responsible or self-sufficient enough for one. Which could be why God took it away from me.

And I know I should be reasonable about everything and just be glad I'm still alive and didn't bleed to death or any other complication from the incomplete abortion or the surgery. But there's something inside of me that still wants to ball up and cry. A part of me still feels terrible over this loss, and I just don't know how to get over that pain.

Luckily, I've got a lot of support from my family and friends, so I don't have the feeling I had when I first found out that I was going through it alone. And I know when it is my time to have children, I'll be healthier and they'll (hopefully) be healthy and I won't have to feel any guilt when I announce the news nor will I feel the need to hide it from anyone.

I just want this new pain to go away...