Running towards something…

The title has nothing to do with this post, I just love that FOTC song and usually I get it stuck in my head.

So, Lolla this weekend, I decided to try on Askewlast night and realized that it fits perfectly EXCEPT for the fact that my straps are in my armpits.  I haven’t finished knitting the straps, so luckily I think I can just take them apart, bind off, and then re-attach some straps SOMEWHERE.  It looked REALLY great with whatever bra I had on last night, but I was kinda itching to make it a halter-top.   I guess I’ll mess around with it within the next day or so, because I will wear it one of the days I’m baking at Lollapalooza.  I can’t (or I should say I won’t) rush to make Coachella like Andi is doing, because I still need to get rid of the awful tan/burn lines I have on my back from last summer.  (This photo shows what it looked like the day after… My back still shows the line, albeit faded.)

Also, I made this for myself today:

so I can keep this in my wallet and know what I have for needles, and what I still need to get.  If I would of had this before, I’d have known I already had size 7 needles and not now own a bamboo and a plastic pair.  Poo.

I’m going to Lollapalooza for the cost of a few beers!

HOLY CRAP!!!

the rapture!

Yeah Yeah Yeahs against Snow Patrol?!

MUSE against INTERPOL?!

And the headliner??

PEARL JAM, people… PEARL JAM!!!!  HOLY SHIT!!!

I woke up this morning feeling strangely upbeat and positive about my situation.  I only hit the snooze once (as opposed to the 2-3, fine 4-5, times I normally hit it), hopped in the shower, threw on some clothes, had a relatively easy time making my hair do what it was supposed to do, and even though the scale hasn’t tipped in either direction, I even feel good in my body today.

I tossed my iPod in my purse and grabbed my book (Bitter is the New Black, by Jen Lancaster) and headed for the bus. Jen’s story resonates with me in that she’s unemployed and feels like her resume should be “…standing out like a shining diamond among all the jagged, ugly rocks.”  When I get to Hubbard street, I close the book, stare out at the Merchandise Mart (which is the utopia for all things my industry needs) and declare silently to myself that this is the week I am going to make something happen.  I’m going to start being healthier (I’ll order my Caribou Coffee with Skim milk and climb 19 flights of stairs to my work instead of taking the elevator - I did the former, the latter would kill me.) I’m going to cold call design agencies and GET a job (or at the very least an interview).  I’m going to contact that woman who emailed me last night saying, “Solidworks knowledge is a requirement for this position. I do not see it on your resume.” and tell her that I *DO* know Solidworks (and hope that I can download a crack copy of it and learn it in time for the interview). 

I’m going to start the best week of my life!  This is it!  I’m pumped!  I’m ready!

…and then I get to work and realize I left my cell phone at home.  I suddenly feel naked.  Exposed.  Disconnected.

Crikey.

Whatever.  I’m still going to make it a good week.  I’ll look at this as a positive thing: I won’t have to feel guilty ignoring all those bill collectors calls!  Ta-da!! 

I read Post Secret every Sunday.  To reitterate, I read them, I have never sent in one of my own.

However,

I have felt a connection every now and again with a secret that has been posted.  This week, the connection is so strong with one, I’m going to share it.

The main link can be found here.

I asked Andi how many times over the past year I’ve said something like this and she said, “Tons.”  Whoever finally got up the nerve to send something into postsecret and read my mind, thank you.

We all deserve to be loved, not fucked, don’t we?  I used to make fun of the girls who substituted sex for love and somehow, I let myself become one of them.

It stops.  Today.

So it’s basically been 3 months since I’ve been laid off from my job and I’ve been working temp.  I saw one of my former coworkers a couple days ago and she was all tan and fit and looking wonderful.  I asked how she got so tan and she said, “Unemployment, baby!”  It would be nice if I actually had gotten enough money through the unemployment agency to merit staying at home/hitting the beach/riding my bike all day, but alas, they were offering me a little over 100 dollars a week since they base it on my last few jobs and, well, things haven’t been so well post-school to warrant having a decent enough paycheck.

Basically what I’m getting at is that while I know people are thinking positively for me, and I’m still thinking positive for myself, the juju train was nice in theory, but it didn’t help my phone ring.   I appreciate the sentiment though. 

I was lucky enough to land a rendering gig that, with the deposit, I was able to pay July rent and with the final payment, I’ll be able to pay August.  I’ve still got creditors calling me out the ass daily, and I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing which phone numbers to answer, and which to ignore.  Here’s hoping that all those “Unknown” calls that come through really are creditors and not job people afraid to leave a message.  My cable is shut off at home [read: internet] but luckily someone has an open connection available that I’ve been able to use to check my email and such. 

I’m not really feeling as doom and gloom as this all might sound, but I am ready to work again.  I am really ready for another 2-3 grand to magically appear so I could pay off some stuff and get my phone to stop ringing.  I’m really really  ready for the day that when I receive a baptism invitation in the mail for a friend’s baby in Rhode Island that I have enough money to hop a plane with no hesitation and surprise her since I haven’t seen her in nearly 10 years.

I hate money.  I hate that I’m nearly 30 and that I’ve fucked my goal of being out of debt before 30.

I am crossing my fingers and toes, as well as sending all these thoughts out into the universe that the phone will ring from one of two companies inviting me back for a second interview.

So, in the interest of being a good person, I will share my finger/toe crossing and good vibes your way too, if you tell me what I should be sending juju out your way for, as long as you send a single thought my way too!

See?  Good juju for everyone!

A friend of mine is debating on if she’ll attend her High School Reunion this weekend.  She really only wants to go to see one person(a friend), but she and I both have an interest in her going just to point and giggle at a different certain someone we’re pretty sure will be carrying a “fake ass multicolor 2004 Louis Vuitton”, in addition to other absurdities.

Anyhow, flipping through the Alumni of this high school’s website, of which I nearly could have been going to this reunion myself as I did attend this school for a bit too, has me thinking.  I used to think that I might regret not being able to go to any high school reunions since I dropped out in 10th grade, but in all honesty?  The people I knew during those years, and the people I care about what is happening to them, I still talk to them.  Sure, it’s not every day, but it’s a hell of a lot more valued than waiting 10 years to go see some people who gave you enough shit during the worst years of your life to send you into therapy.

Another thing about this whole thing is people are putting up little blurbs as to what they are doing now.  Oh I am married, I have X many children and we just bought the best SUV on the planet a few months ago! One guy had a story that involved spending the last 10 years working towards getting a degree because he wanted his PhD before he turned 30.  When he said he worked so much on his career that family just wasn’t in the cards yet - he almost sounded like he was apologizing.

Which leads me to this, and you should know these next few words might bite me in the ass later, but whatever: I do not want to be one of those people that when I do fall in love, find the man of my dreams, get married, have a baby, that I have NOTHING else to talk about.  I share with you a conversation between my reunion-debating-girlfriend and I about this:

me: [these stories are] making me sick

Friend: well, that’s all she ever wanted out of life - a man of some sort, and to be a mom

me: I want the whole marriage and kids thing, but.. Does having all that mean that’s all you talk about?   I’d like to think not. 

Friend:  I think it does, IF you are the kind of person who had nothing interesting to talk about before you had kids

me: That’s why I’m writing stories about my life now so I can embarrass my children when they’re older

Friend: haha

me: “Oh honey.. is this your boyfriend? Perhaps he’d like to read mommy’s book on all the guys she slept with.”

me: “He might need some pointers… you don’t want your first time to be a bad time darlin.”

me: “and here, mommy bought you some condoms, just in case.”

me: “mom, I’m 12.”

me:“Now run along on your date so your daddy and I can have freaky sex all night.”

See.. that’s cool parenting right there.

…That’s the reason my Dr. gave me for the yakking and headaches - I’m experiencing withdrawal from the med.  She suggested I get a couple pills (because I didn’t have any left… though, I should say I did find one or two a week ago and tossed them because, you know.. I was done), cut the pills in half and take one every other day - or every day, depending on how the symptoms were. 

There are a few articles on the Internet about this drug and how there should be warnings about it’s addictive qualities.  It’s not addictive in a sense that I want to take this shit every day, but apparently one cannot just cold-turkey it and be completely normal and that, my friends, is not right.

My stomach has been sour for the past couple weeks now - yesterday and the night before, I wasn’t really able to hold anything down.  Today I’m just having the sickening, gosh-i-wish-i-could-throw-up feeling.  It could be a result of quitting Paxil cold turkey, or it could be stress.

Or I could just be having stomach issues and don’t know how to fix them.  I wonder if the uh… other medical issue I have going on that I haven’t mentioned here…  and stomach problems are related?

I did joke that maybe this is the reason I got so fat ON Paxil - my ability to keep food down while on the medication clearly was not an issue.  Spontaneous, unwilling bulemia was not listed on the cold-turkey side effects though, nor is it enjoyable.
In better news, I’m hopefully getting a freelance gig.  I mean, I’m going to pick up the work tonight, but the check is not there and work will not commence without the check.  However, once I get the deposit check, I’ll be able to pay my rent AND get some groceries.  Amazing! 

In typical-me news, with no money to speak of, and enough projects already on my plate, all I can think of is repainting my bathroom to a light lavender.  Too add insult to stupidity, I even looked up bathtubs on homedepot.com today to see if I said something like, “Hey, I have this tub.. would maintenance install it for me?” so I could get rid of the existing tub I have now where someone PAINTED over whatever was there before.  Yuck.

In I-know-you’re-curious news, I went out with Andrea Friday night and on the way home exchanged a bit of text messages with ‘the ex’.  I had drinks with said ex Saturday night.  He might be joining Selena, another girlfriend of hers, and myself at Karaoke tomorrow night.  Fun, moderately insulting songs to sing for him would be appreciated.  Our time together usually consists of me making fun of him in some fashion, pointing out hot guys, and likewise pointing out chicks he should go talk to: Or in otherwords - saying all the shit we should have said while we were together instead of us trying to make something clearly not meant to be, work.  So, right now it’s kinda fun, in a strange way.  In the 5 years we were together, we never had a “friendship” really, so it’s… interesting.

In dating news, I think I have one on Friday night - and no it’s not with the aforementioned ex.

I am not about to pretend that I am doing all I can to save the planet.  I know there are a ton of things I could be doing to better my world, but I don’t, and I have no excuse for it, so I probably have no right to say this… But I will anyhow because what is blogging for?

Why are phone-books still distributed in large quantities and not simply on a request-basis?

I ask this because right now, in the lobby of my building, there are a good 50 phone books sitting in front of the mailboxes.  I think perhaps 3-4 have been taken (as the rest are still wrapped in plastic, but one is open), but you know what will happen with the rest of them?  Maintenance will come pick them up, walk outside about 10 feet to the dumpster and throw them in there.  Not recycled, not read, not even worth the paid advertisements in there.   And that’s just in my ‘hood.  When I used to live over in Wicker Park they’d put phone-books on people’s doorsteps where people were too lazy to bother to pick them up and they’d end up all over the street in bits and pieces!  Ugh!

I delivered phone books once, probably back in ‘92 or so… back before the Internet was a household commodity and searching on google or whatnot was easier than picking up this 3″ floppy book housed in that random cupboard in the kitchen that isn’t wide enough for your plates, and is too far away from the fridge for the glasses.  Back then it was exciting to get a new phone-book - at work we put our department’s name on them so that no one would steal ours. 

But now… now I just don’t see the point.  Can someone clue me in?  Is it really worth printing these up en-masse when only a few people really use them?  Is this my own skewed sense of reality and do they really get used more often than I think?