A possible crossroads

So I didn't get the job. Within a half an hour of asking questions, answering questions, I feel like my hope was built up and knocked down in one full swoop. Oh well. Disappointment comes in and goes out nearly as quickly. Moving on.

Sort of. I feel like I'm now at an impasse. I like my job, I'm good at my job, I have benefits and I get to leave my work at my work. But do I want to do this forever? And forever is a long time. Do I go back to school? Do I find another job in an economy that isn't hiring? Seeing as how I wasn't given the opportunity that I surely thought would be gladly handed over, I now have all these doors in front of me.

And I don't even know which one to open first. This was not how I wanted to start off my stay-cation. I don't know where to begin. The options have always been there, I just don't like the unknown. I don't like the what ifs and the buts and the not knowing the definite outcome.

But that is life. (So deep of me. Sheesh.) But it's true. One never knows what will happen until one just does. I have a lot of thinking to do. And at the same time, more to improve on in my current job than I thought.

Change is good. Improving is good. Both together is better.

8 days since last post

I haven't blogged in over a week. Ain't got much to say, I guess. No news is good news, right?

Work is good. My assistant and I laughed till we cried on Monday. And I don't want to j-i-n-x myself here, but there is a position open that I'm interviewing for today. And that is all I'm going to say about that.

My writing is still around. Now that I don't have this class I really need to kick my own ass in gear and write the best I can and send out my pieces. I'm going to enter the Writer's Digest Writing Competition. There are a number of categories, I've entered it the past 2 years, the prizes are decent, I haven't won. The grand prize is $3000 and a trip to NYC to meet with editors and agents. I'd be happy with just an honorable mention.

I'm moving. But not until October. In my spare time I like to look at apartments on line but with no rent dollar limit and see what kind of palaces there are out there. But in actuality, I can't afford those fancy shcmancy digs, so I'm will be looking in a range I can afford the closer we get to October. And since I don't own a car, I'm planning on staying in Uptown on the 6 bus line. It gets me to work and to my mom's in one shot. Location location location. You couldn't pay me enough to commute from the suburbs. No sir.

I'm on a stay-cation for the next 6 days. And it's supposed to be raining the ENTIRE time. Awesome. (there needs to be a sarcasm font) But I have very little planned. I may go to the Institute of Arts. I may go to the Weisman Museum. You know, that god-awful ugly metal building that when driving towards it at sunset, you get blinded by the light of the setting sun because the whole damn building is metal. I'm telling you, it's ugliest building the Twin Cities. And the new Walker is a close close second.

Anywho, my stay-cation. I had vacation time to use by the end of April so I just figured I'd take a little time off. I'm going to write, read, walk if it's not too wet out, pretty much what I do when I'm not working but I get to do it all day.

My cat is nutters. Last week I was leaning over my bathroom sink, putting on mascara (and I do not open my mouth to do so. Those that do I think are weird. It is not necessary to catch flies in order to put on eye makeup.) But there I am, with a brush covered in goo near my eyeball and here comes my cat leaping up and attempting to get into the mirror itself. He jumps right in front of me, hits the mirror head-on and falls into the sink. Idiot. He scared the shit out of me, I don't know if he was trying to attack my reflection or thought it was a window or what. But after he landed in the sink, his face was all "Crap. That didn't go the way I thought. I'm a fool." And away he ran. Having him around surly has made me laugh out loud more often in my apartment than ever before. Right now he's attacking a brown paper bag from Target. Probably because he can.

Happy

"feeling happy. and knowing that that happiness does not come from having everything just right. or surviving in this economy. or even a happy marriage or the blessing of kids. it's just there, and it is a culmination of gratitude, creativity, love and awareness of good things. little things."
This quote came from a new blog I've been following, she embodies loveliness and gratitude.

And that quote I think is the simplest way to live the happiest you can. Be grateful, be aware, be creative, be joyful. And hold onto the memories that come from that.

Simple things

I got back my last assignment yesterday. It came back with rave reviews and with some punctuation and spelling corrections, it's ready to be submitted. Yea me! I will get a certificate for completing this course which I think I'll hang right up there with my first rejection letter.

Now I just need to keep writing. With no assignments and no due dates it really does all rest on my shoulders. Write, read, submit, repeat.

On another note, I've been cooking a lot with a friend and have figured out why I don't cook by myself. I learn by doing and when I open a cook book I'm all "I don't get it, this doesn't make sense." But with cooking with this friend I get to actually do it and learn along the way. I made risotto last week! It's been really fun.

Spring is just around the corner. It's so close I can smell it. Well not quite actually, because when you can smell spring you know it. But all the sidewalks are ginormous puddles and the sun has been out bright and beaming for the past few days. I bought some flowers for myself today, daisies, they're my favorite. Such happy flowers. They brighten up my kitchen table and hopefully encourage spring to not be shy.

My cat has become a fun little furry rocket around my house. He'll run and leap off the furniture and stalk my sock monkey slippers. But he's also a lap kitty and will snuggle down and go to sleep. He's my four-legged pal.

It's in the stars

And I quote, "Last night I had a dream in which I was addressing a crowd of thousands of Cancerians in a large stadium. I was referring to them as dolphins rather than as crabs. "I saw unto you my fellow dolphins," I proclaimed (I myself was born on June 23), "that you have been given a sacred assignment by the greats gods of time themselves. And that assignment is to master the art of Timeology." When I awoke from the dream, I was awash with feelings of deep relaxation and ease, although I wasn't sure why. I had never heard before the word "timeology," so I googled it. Here's how the Urban Dictionary defined it: "spending time doing what you want to do, not accomplishing anything major but not also wasting time." It so happens that this prescription is well-suited to our current astrological omens. I suggest that you and I be as playful as dolphins."

I like that. I think I can do that. Not that I ever really follow or believe in horoscopes. It's still fun to read. And the City Pages have the best ones.

Oh great, another one for the books

So I have a new neighbor in my building. A fat guy with a mohawk who stands outside on the front step, smoking, drinking, talking LOUDLY on his phone. And coughing. Incessantly coughing. Great.

This gomer is out there right now and I can see and hear him. I don't think he's washed his hands in days. And yes, I can see how filthy they are from my second story window. He just re-lit his stubbed out ciggarette, gross. His t-shirt has paint splatters on it that reside right on his big belly (or perhaps it's dried mayo. OK, that was a bit mean. Sorry.) But what makes this t-shirt so special is it's one of those home-made tank tops, with the sleeves cut off and really really big arm holes. So when he stretches you get all the pasty glory of his under-arm skin. Aannnddd ICK.

He's always got a beer. He's always smoking. Hey, Dude! Perhaps if you stopped drinking beer your belly would shrink and perhaps if you stopped smoking you would stop coughing. Oh and I see you shivering because you're in your fancy self made tank, but it is still winter out. Perhaps a coat? Just a few ideas for you.

And just so you know, people in this building talk (and blog) so maybe you should have your phone conversation inside in your apartment so that everyone who lives on the courtyard side of the building won't know all your dirty gossip.

*AUTHOR'S DISCLAIMER: Yes I do sit on the stoop and talk. And yes I drink beer. And yes I dress in my grubbies from time to time. But I also don't do it on a daily basis, in the middle of winter, by myself. And loudly. And yes I do realize that when I piss and moan and bitch about my neighbors, half of it is about how loud they are. Me. Complaining about someone being loud. HELLO?! I'm loud. So this has to tell you how loud my neighbors are. I need to move.

Destitute

I believe Hilary Clinton said "It takes a village to raise a child." Along those same lines, wasn't Joe Cocker right when he sang "I get by with a little help from my friends"? Yet what do you do when the world we are living in has become so cynical and skeptical that finding the little things to do to help gets lost in the shuffle?

For the past week or so there has been a new girl hanging on the block that my store is on, with a sign, begging for money. Her sign says something like "Homeless, 4 kids, please help." I haven't given her any money, but I have noticed her getting more and more ragged as the days ware on. She looks far too young to have 4 kids, has long red hair and just looks extremely sad.

She came into my work today and bought a small coffee. I noticed that her fingers were filthy but upon a longer glance I saw that they weren't just dirty, but they were covered in Cheeto dust. You know, when you eat Cheetos and your fingers get that nasty orange dust all over them and it takes a good lick and then a good wash to get them clean? I happened to look into her bag and she had two large bags of Cheetos with her. I think that may be all she has eaten in several days.

I gave her the coffee and watched her walk over to the cream and sugar. She was literally falling asleep standing up. Her knees would buckle, her head would bob, her hands would droop from the sugar. It took her a good 5 minutes to get her coffee sweetened and out the door. She came back near close and I was able to call our off-duty officer down to talk to this girl. She just looks like she needs a good sleep, a real meal and perhaps a hug.

The officer told me afterward that the girl said she was on Methadone (a drug used to take people off heroine and cocaine), her kids are in foster care, shes staying at a shelter but can't get in there until 8pm. She's fine, I kept hearing her say. The officer told her that if she needs anything, people are around to help. She offered to buy the girl some decent food, and perhaps take her to a shelter. "No no. I'm fine." was her response. She may be a whore as well, she had money falling on the floor, underwear and lube and condoms in her bag. And sadly, we've all heard that it's an easy way to make a buck

It breaks my heart. I don't think anyone wants to wind up in a situation like that. I think people want to be happy and healthy and successful in their own way. But bad people happen (from bad parents, I believe), drugs and alcohol can quickly take over a life, mistakes can snowball into something you never saw coming. But what I get so focused on is the fact that once you are in that deep dark hole, there really seems no way out.

And whats worse is that there are so many people out there who say "Their problems aren't my problems. I don't care." People who are better of tend to question the story, not give change because we don't know what it will go to, walk by without a second glance. I do it. I question the sign and whether they really are homeless or just lazy. But what if this girl's story is true? What if this girl really has kids in foster care, is really trying to get off drugs, is trying to better herself in the only way she knows how? And has no one to lean on. That is what makes me so sad. She could be all alone, in a harsh world, with no guidance to get out of the dark life she is in.

She looked exhausted. I was tired for her. I wonder where she came from. Did her mother love her unconditionally like mine did? How did she have 4 kids so young? Did she go to school? These are all questions I wonder about the people that wander the streets of downtown. They all have a past, had to have come from somewhere. What happened that had them wind up with a sign begging for money, a sorrowful look in their eyes, and very little motivation to take control of their life?

I wish I knew the answers. I wish there was a better program than 24 hours in detox and then back out on the street. I wish we put more money into programs to better the community rather than a new sports stadium. If it really does take a village, I wish we had a tighter community to help raise each other to be good human beings. I wish...