They say that people who aren’t going to be happy at our company will end up leaving, or being let go, in their first month of employment.
This is, officially, my eighth week with the company. While I’ve apparently survived that one-month limbo stretch, I also know that survival does not equate to stability. I’ve seen people leave after several months of employment. I’ve also seen people be let go after several months of employment.
In any case: this list o’ mine.
- I squeezed out of work just before 8 tonight! 
- I got to drive my car! It’s been nearly two weeks!
- The freeway was practically empty!
- I remembered how to get to Trader Joe’s!
- There was parking!
- I snagged the last two boxes of mango mochi ice cream!
- There was a queue at the registers, but as soon as I got in line, another cashier showed up and took me right away!
- There was no traffic on my way back home!
- My ulta-primo parking spot was still vacant by the time I got back to my garage!
- Also, on my walk back from the parking garage, I saw a couple exiting a restaurant. The guy’s car was parked on the street, and the valet unlocked it and waited by the driver’s side to give the guy back his keys. But without missing a beat, the guy walked straight to the passenger side to open the door for his companion. And it was just so absolutely charming.
- I won’t be able to bring Part II home until the end of June, which means I get to take my plants out of hiding and put them in direct sunlight for four weeks! They had damn well better start thriving.
Don’t forget, it’s Tibbar Tibbar night tonight! Or Rabbit Rabbit day tomorrow, depending on what exactly it is you’re hoping to do. 
 So I had actually wanted to leave at 6 but had to wait. Still, 8 is totally better than 10 or 12. 
 This seriously feels like one of the lamest entries I have ever published. Probably because I am forcing myself to write because I didn’t write yesterday and I always feel guilty when I miss a day.
 I’m going to start posting from work if this keeps up. Goats!
I know I wasn’t nearly as happy as I’d like to believe I was, one year ago. But it’s so easy to forget that.
In a presentation last week at work, we discussed how, when you first meet someone, you take note of their faults and flaws more accurately and more instinctively than you do their positive traits. I think it’s odd that our memory does the exact opposite with life events.
It’s a beautiful holiday morning and all I’ve done so far today is use up a box of travel-sized Kleenex. Walking through my apartment door, I was actually a little placated to be back in this little niche I’ve carved for myself and started to fill with bits and pieces of my personality. Maybe I do just need to get completely moved in, and then I’ll feel more comfortable here. I don’t know. They’re just material objects, yes– but what else do I have to establish this space as mine, as home? What else do I have to distinguish this place from a hotel room, from just another temporary living situation that cannot be depended on, that has no permanence whatsoever for me?
I shouldn’t have gone back. My emotional stability is all the worse because of it and to boot, I’m feline-less for an indeterminate amount of time. Lose-lose situation? I’ll say.
Wow. Talk about not having a clue what to categorize a post under.
I have about $100 worth in gift cards for Linens & Things. At the time I signed up for them (through my tax rebate), I was in moving-in mode and figured I could easily find stuff there to buy, as I was at some home decor store every spare minute of my days shopping for bedding and looking at rugs and contemplating kitchen gadgets, etc.
But now that I’ve hit my plateau at 75% moved in, now that I’ve focused all my attention on work and have more or less abandoned this task of fully turning my apartment into a "home" that is defined beyond pure functionality (i.e., I don’t have a coffee table, which to me is an essential component of a complete living room, but I’m never *in* my living room and never find myself *needing* a coffee table), I don’t have a clue what I ought to buy. Except maybe a bigger trash can for the kitchen with a lid so the damn cat can’t keep pulling stuff out to play with.
Oh, the dilemmas– such a distressing life I lead!
I’ve narrowed, but not permanently limited, my options to:
- Nice, decorative curtain rods upon which to hang my curtains, which are still folded away in a box
- Wall art (I’m hesitant about this. I’m trying to avoid acquiring any more mass-produced artwork.)
- A kick-ass set of kitchen knives (except again, I’m never home to cook, so when would I use these? And also, I really like the Henckels set at Costco)
- A quality fan, since it’s starting to get hot and we don’t have air conditioning in the building (maybe this one, or something like this? I want something as silent as possible, preferably something I can put on a timer) and yes I could just open the windows but I’m paranoid about bugs
I’m also contemplating utilising Craigslist to see if I can barter these suckers for something like a giant moose head. My sister prefers elk heads because she feels a moose is too massive, wheras the elk has some grace to it, but I say, fuck grace. I’m going to have a gawdy monstrosity hanging on my wall? I’m going all the way, baby.
I only just now understood why that Postal Service album is called "Give Up." It makes me love them ALL THE MORE.
It also reminds me of this one poster from Despair.Inc that reads: "It’s Over Man. Let Her Go."
- I tried to be the cool kid and ordered a martini from The Yardhouse last night. It just keeps coming back to this singular fact: I do not like the taste of anything alcoholic.
- I don’t really expect people to get my "awesome-like-a-hot-dog" reference. At the same time, I’m always a little dismayed when I receive the baffled silence in reply.
- Brazilian Girls. "Sirenes de la Fete." Oh. My. God. That shit is orgasmic.
- Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. "Take a Break." Oh. My. God. That shit is rocktastically hilarious.
- The Baja Fresh in Victorville off Bear Valley Road makes the suckiest nachos this side of anywhere.
- Starbucks has almost redeemed itself with its new banana-everything line. But the Coffee Bean still trumps with its Pomegranate Blueberry Ice Blended.
- Being a fan of The Bean is much like being a fan of Macs. You’re in the minority, it’s hardly convenient as there are few store locations to be found no matter what city you’re in, everyone else sneers at you– and yet, you’re still demonstrating a superior sense of taste. SO THERE.
I’m home, and so far, I’m okay. No breakdowns. Though there’s beauty in the breakdown… or so I’ve heard.
I’ve decided that drunken blogging and drunken phone calls (and drunken phone calls to exes) are equally rivaled by: sleep-deprived blogging and sleep-deprived phone calls. And sleep-deprived e-mails and sleep-deprived Myspace messaging.
At least this time around, I’ve restrained myself from even getting to the "Compose" stage. But man, running on fumes? The defenses are down, baby, and I’m about three hallucinations away from pouring my heart out to everyone in my address books and writing novellas to everyone on my Friends list.
[it’s well after midnight and I’m still at work]
The Miggy D: you know what you need? you need Jolt caffeinated gum.
The Miggy D: i came across it at a 76 station.
The Miggy D: 2 pieces = one cup of coffee
kitkat style: coffee doesn’t work for me anyhow
kitkat style: caffeine doesn’t affect me
kitkat style: it actually tends to put me to sleep
The Miggy D: interesting. and what, turkey wakes you up?
The Miggy D: you’re ‘Reverse Girl!’
The Miggy D: ‘Doctor, why are these sedatives actually waking the patient up?’
The Miggy D: ‘I should’ve known… DAMN YOU, REVERSE GIRL!’
kitkat style: ooooh
kitkat style: curses! you have stumbled upon my Superhero Identity
The Miggy D: ‘The most awesome/frustrating power this side of Jubilee.’
- String bikinis and crashing waves
- Baby carrots dipped in beer (this one is hearsay)
- Coin-operated community laundry appliances and napping
Also a clashing combo: overcast skies, mellow music, an uber-comfy bed, a cat who is suddenly all about the sleepage and the purring and the cuddling, and a high level of productivity. (Can you guess which of those factors doesn’t belong?)
More music to fall in love with:
Also, a company that isn’t even fazed when one of the newer employees up and decides to arbitrarily tape gummi bears everywhere throughout the entire 8,000-square-foot facility at 3 a.m.? I may never leave.
This song makes me so ding-dong happy. Someone at work alerted me of its presence on our company media share drive and I was lucky enough to listen to it before he promptly deleted it.
I love The Shins, but I SUPER love The Postal Service and "We Will Become Silhouettes" is definitely one of my favorite tracks, right after "Nothing Better" and "Such Great Heights" and "Clark Gable" and "The District Sleeps Alone" and… um… okay, so the whole album is orgasmic. How could anyone put one track of "Give Up" over another? It’s basically one long ridiculous story spanning ten fabulous tracks.
The Shins just happened to pull a crazy genius move and made that song a million times cooler, while at the same time, not detracting in the least from the original’s mad massive fantasticacity.
In the last week, my passion for variety in music has been rekindled about three hundred times over. My steps are a little bit lighter; I dance down hallways and streets (and beaches) at random more frequently; my pulse beats with more purpose and elation. And I panic just a little bit less often.
It’s a good thing, and I’m happy, and also… it’s Hump Day!