The Search Is FINALLY Over!

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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I GOT THE B&B JOB!!!!!

I received this glorious news via a phone call at around 10 this morning.

I can’t believe it:  I actually got a job.  I was really starting to lose hope in the possibility that I would find one, especially in this economy.  For the past two-and-a-half months, I have spent HOURS EVERY DAY scouring the internet for job postings and applying to approximately seven of them on average each day.  Maybe 10 companies contacted me back throughout that entire time – and I was always rejected every time either because my Master’s degree made me overqualified or because I didn’t have enough job experience.  I was truly beginning to think that my only option was that I was going to have to ask Beast for a job at his distributorship.

Be that as it may, I immediately burst into tears of joyous relief following that phone call.  After composing myself, the first person I called was Beast; I couldn’t wait for him to know that I wasn’t just this overrated failure after all.  However, he was unreachable because he was in-flight on his way home from wherever it is that he was this time, which, I believe, was out-of-the-country (he travels a lot for work, both nationally and internationally).  So, unsurprisingly, the next person I called was Martyr.  And she didn’t answer either!  Ahh – all I wanted to do was share my wonderful news with someone else!  Mario was working, so I texted him, and then I called Scarlet.  Someone FINALLY picked up! That conversation went as can be expected and then Martyr called me back.

Martyr was, of course, incredibly enthusiastic (she went on and on about how god “blessed” me with this job and how she’d been praying and praying that I would get this particular job) and we decided to go to Polly’s for celebratory wine and lunch.  Punky was the day bartender/server.  Punky currently lives with Leto in the apartment below mine since Belle moved out.  She’s really cool; I like her a lot.  Anyways, after Martyr and I had finished eating, Punky insisted on buying me a congratulatory dessert.  That was really nice of her to do and something I wasn’t expecting – so I gratefully accepted it and made her indulge in a bite or two with me!

Also while we were at Polly’s, Beast got around to calling me back and I was able to share my good news with him.  After finishing our drinks (I had a few more than Martyr, who was driving), Martyr dropped me back off at my apartment and we set up plans to send Chip and Dale to pick me up later this evening and bring me to the house for dinner.

Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, B&B called me back at around 3 this afternoon to discuss with me the exact details of my offer.  In our previous discussions, they had left me with the expectation of a salary somewhere in the ballpark of $75,000.  That was shocking enough.  But this, I was in no way prepared for:  the HR woman on the phone told me that I will be receiving an annual salary of $85,000 PLUS 10% bonuses PLUS benefits:  health, vision, and dental insurance AND a relocation package.

Yea.

This news literally left me in shock – my whole body shaking in utter, well, shock.  Throughout the entire delivery of this information, I pretty much just sat there in silence with my jaw gaping wide open.  At the end of the (one-way) conversation after informing me of all this, the HR woman then said, “I know that’s a little more than we had discussed…”

Yea, no kidding!

“Artistic” Refreshment

(Originally written on July 23, 2009)

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This evening, I had dinner plans with Michelangelo, one of my friends from high school.  Michelangelo and I go pretty far back; he was a football player and I was a football (and competitive) cheerleader.  On some game Fridays, he would let me wear his jersey.  Ahh…  And did I mention that I’ve always had a mini-crush on him?

But anyways, it really all started our sophomore year.  Both of us are artistically talented – although, Michelangelo is far more talented than me­ – and we had Graphic Design I together with Ms. Gemini.  She was my favorite teacher in high school…actually, my favorite teacher ever.  Michelangelo and another guy sat next to each other at computers behind mine and they used to play with my hair (Michelangelo would sometimes chew on the ends, soaking them in saliva…my hair was much longer back then…and blonde, thanks to regular highlight treatments) and do other things to playfully antagonize me.  And Ms. Gemini always used to yell at me for it, “Elliott!  Stop flirting!  Or else I’ll have to separate you!”  But she never did.  Oh memories… Michelangelo wasn’t in my Graphic Design II or III classes; however, X was in Graphic Design III with me – conveniently, at the time we were dating.

Well, since we’ve graduated from high school, Chip and Dale have taken Ms. Gemini’s Graphic Design classes a la my suggestion.  X and I visited a couple of times when we were still dating – it was like a doubly great visit:  we got to see my brothers and our former teacher.  However, since X and I have been broken up, I’ve been making those visits with Michelangelo instead.  Ms. Gemini really enjoys it when we stop in, but I think she likes it better when Michelangelo accompanies me because X was never really artistically-oriented (she also taught Michelangelo and me art and does a lot of business selling her own pieces and designs).

I almost majored in graphic design in undergrad, but Beast and Martyr said that it would be a waste of a free education to major in art, that you either have that talent or you don’t and that it’s something that can’t be taught.  I suppose they were right; just as artsy as I am, I am also gifted intellectually, and my statistics degree is certainly more useful for getting a job (and it got me into the MMR program).

Michelangelo, on the other hand, just graduated this past May with his Bachelor of Art in Sculpture.  The reason that it took him five years is because he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma right after our freshman year of college and had to take a semester off for the treatment and then took a light load the following semester while he recovered.  That really changed him a lot.  For example, Michelangelo was extremely religious in high school – I remember one discussion in Graphic Design I between Michelangelo, the guy he sat next to, and me in which we were talking about masturbation, for some reason, and Michelangelo revealed that he had never masturbated because the Bible says that it is sinful.  He also never drank in high school.  However, a couple of months ago over beers at Polly’s, Michelangelo and I had a little heart-to-heart about cancer, religion, and love, and it turns out that he and I share a lot of “beliefs” (or lack thereof) in common with each other through our similar experiences.

Anyways, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had dinner with Michelangelo this evening.  However, there was something significantly different about this meeting from our last few interactions:  Michelangelo paid for everything (as opposed to us each paying our own) – both dinner and drinks afterward.  It almost felt date-like.  Anyways, it was really nice to see him again; it’s been a while.  Michelangelo took me out to the eastside for a sushi dinner.  I thought that was going to be it, but then he asked me if I wanted to go downtown for a couple of drinks, to which I was more-than-happy to oblige – more for his extended company, though, than just the allure of alcohol.  So, throughout the course of the evening, we discussed our lives over sushi, beer, and wine (Guinness for him and Selbach Riesling for me, to be precise).  Since graduating in May, he’s been doing odd jobs such as repairing flooring and cabinetry for the most part and is waiting to hear back about a job where he would be doing construction work in Aruba for six-to-eight months.  I told him that he’d be crazy not to take a job in paradise; besides, it’s only temporary – what an experience!

Ah, it really was great to see him again.

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston is back – ugh!

Here We Go Again

(Originally written on July 15, 2009)

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I am currently sitting at a bar in the airport right now, having a beer while I await my flight to Philadelphia for yet another series of job interviews.  This time, we’ll call the company B&B.  B&B is a consumer packaged goods company that makes everything ranging from beauty products to over-the-counter drugs. Oddly enough, I didn’t even apply for the position that I’m interviewing for with them…or any position with them, for that matter.  They actually recruited me from the MMR resume book.  That kinda made me feel a little bit better about myself:  out of the 27 graduates in my class, they chose me.  I haven’t really taken their interest all that seriously (until now, obviously) because the first time they called me was back in May.  Then, it was early-to-mid-June before they called me for a phone interview and told me that they wanted whomever they hire to start working by mid-July…which is today.  And that obviously didn’t happen.  Anyways, I eventually had another phone interview about a week-and-a-half ago, at the end of which they told me that they wanted to fly me to Philly for what would have been last week for in-person interviews.  Well, after two-and-a-half slow months, I’m finally making my trip up there.

•     •     •     •     •

I didn’t sleep well at all last night, even though I took my sleeping meds.  Thus, I got up this morning feeling funky/sick…great for packing and traveling.

•     •     •     •     •

I have decided that Friday (once I’m back home) I’m going to stop drinking and start working on getting into shape and being happy again.

•     •     •     •     •

This past weekend was my family reunion with Beast’s side of the family.  Every year we visit a different location and this year it was Asheville, North Carolina.  The previous reunions that stick out most in my mind include:  Nashville, Tennessee; Lexington, Kentucky; Washington, D.C.; Cedar Point, Ohio (the last reunion Beast’s dad, my grampa, was alive for); and Niagara Falls, Canada.  I always enjoy these family reunions because all of my cousins are really close in age to Chip, Dale, Ursula and me.

Bear with me here, I’ve got quite a few introductions to get through in order to make the storytelling easier:

We’ll start with Beast’s oldest brother, Aston (for Aston Martin; he collects cars, most of which he actually purchases on eBay).  And Aston’s wife is Dippy; she’s the crazy aunt that always makes inappropriate comments and jokes.  When we were younger, we all thought she was weird and were creeped out by her, but now that we’re older, we are equipped with the worldly knowledge required to understand her wonderfully lewd and sarcastic sense of humor.  She’s awesome.  Their son is my cousin Fire – and yes, he’s a ginger.  The name “Fire” for him, though, actually works on several different levels:

1. His gingerness, of course.
2. He was a firefighter for a year or two.
3. He has always been one who goes through phases where he is exceedingly fanatical about whatever it is that’s his flavor of the week, including girls.  One year he was all about the Army and ROTC; the next year was drinking (underage); the next was being redneck; the next was firefighting…and you get the picture. And, I mean, he goes all out.  For example, he got the firefighter emblem tattooed – quite large, I must say – on his upper arm…and, well, Fire isn’t a firefighter anymore.

There’s actually quite a sad story attached to Fire – and keep in mind that he’s my age (only 23).  Beast comes from a family that was raised devoutly Catholic (hence the four kids), so we definitely behave more conservatively around Gramma and company.  Anyways, the summer when we were 19, the family reunion was held at Niagara Falls (the reunions always take place in July, by the way).  Fire had drunkenly proposed to Emma in June, his girlfriend of two months at that time, and insisted that she come to the reunion with him or else he wouldn’t come.  So she came to the reunion and she stayed in a room with Dippy while Fire stayed in a separate room with Aston.  They got married that August and bought a house together.  Money was pretty scarce for them with Fire installing home theater and stereo systems and Emma working as a cashier at a fast-food restaurant.  In order to make ends meet, Fire joined the Air Force in March with the intention of becoming an Air Force firefighter and left for two months of boot camp.  While he was away, Emma had a friend move into the house with her to keep her company.  Emma’s 21^st birthday (she was a year older than Fire) was on the same day as Aston’s and Dippy’s wedding anniversary, about one month after Fire had left for boot camp, so the three of them went to dinner together.  Emma didn’t even have anything to drink because she said she was feeling funny.  The following morning, Emma’s friend walked by her room and found her in a blue state.  Fire and Emma were only married for nine months.  Fire immediately came home from boot camp and was given a year to come back and resume.  However, Fire later declined and was honorably discharged.  To this day, we still don’t know how Emma died.

What made Fire’s circumstances a little more strange was how he acted when he returned to the next reunion.  For one thing, he was already back onto the dating scene a mere three months after Emma’s death…and the girl he was dating was also named Emma…  Secondly, when asked about how he was holding up, Fire said that, hindsight 20/20, he thought they would have probably ended up getting divorced anyway…  I guess that’s just how he was coping and getting himself through it all.

Well, a little over two years ago, Fire became an EMT (and he still is).  Then, in late December 2007, we received the news that Fire was going to be a father.  He met his baby-mama through work, she’s an ER nurse, and the baby was born last July (Fire didn’t make it to the last reunion because he was expecting).  Now, what makes that sad and odd is that Fire continues to propose to his baby-mama (who already had another illegitimate child with a different guy, by the way) multiple times and she still, to this day, says no.  He really does just want to do the right thing.

Then there’s my aunt Egoista and her husband Uncle Bob.  She is definitely the black sheep of the siblings.  She constantly tries to be the center of attention (and she’s 60 years old!) and she’s full of herself, gets pissy if she doesn’t get her way, has the worst sense of humor, and her obnoxious cackle of a laugh makes your ears bleed.  Also, both when Grampa died and when we moved Gramma into an assisted living home, Egoista picked brutal, petty fights with her brothers and cut off communication with the rest of the family for a while – which I know Beast and Aston didn’t mind, they joked about it at the time.  There’s really nothing special about Uncle Bob (hence the plain name); he pretty much keeps to himself and you can tell that he unquestioningly lets Egoista run the show.  Their daughter is Bookworm.  She was born three months premature with cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair.  She’s currently working on her Master degree to become a librarian.  It’s kinda sad that none of us really know Bookworm that well; it’s hard because she can’t participate in everything that we do and Egoista keeps her on a short leash too.  Bookworm and I do share our passion for beer, though!

And finally, there’s Scholar and his wife Cowpoke.  As kids, Scholar was really malicious toward Beast: one time Scholar pushed Beast’s stroller (with Beast in it) down a hill for no reason and when Beast was four, Scholar convinced him to guzzle gasoline, telling him that it was just “sour water”.  And that’s only two of the many examples, but I think they’ve gotten past it.  I’ve dubbed him “Scholar” because he was a career student for quite some time: he’s got two Doctoral degrees, one in optometry and one in psychiatry (which he currently practices), in addition to a Master degree or two.  He actually met Cowpoke while he was working on his last degree (psychiatry) and they just got married a couple of years ago.  Cowpoke was working on her Doctorate in I-don’t-know-what when they met.

Scholar has three kids from his previous marriage.  His oldest is Frenchie.  The university she went to for undergrad requires that you declare a major after your sophomore year; she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do, so she decided to major in French, the foreign language that she had taken in high school.  She took a year off after graduating and is now about to start working on the second year in her Master of Social Work program.  Then there’s Pollyanna.  She is an incredibly unique spirit – I don’t even know how to describe her.  She’s very Earthy, P.C., and exuberant.  Wow.  I really don’t know how to put Pollyanna into words.  And Scholar’s youngest is Squint.  Squint is and always has been shy/an introvert…except for this one year when he overcompensated for it by bothering the hell out of everyone…yea, he still does that a little bit – but nowhere near comparison to that one year.  Anyways, he’s brilliantly intelligent and is currently majoring in Math.

Remember how I said that all of my cousins and I are conveniently close in age?  Well here’s how we all lay out:  Bookworm was born in 1983 (she’s 26); Frenchie was born in 1985 (she’s 24); Fire and I were born in 1986 (we’re 23); Pollyanna was born in 1987 (she’s 22); Ursula was born in 1988 (she’s 21); Squint was born in 1989 (he’s 20); and Chip and Dale were born in 1990 (they’re going to be 19 in August).  phew! As I said earlier, none of us are particularly close with Bookworm.  But Frenchie and I always paired up, as did Pollyanna and Ursula, and Squint, Chip, and Dale always grouped together.  Fire has always been pretty close with all of us.  We still pair up a bit, but now that we’re older, we really all pretty much hang out together.

Alright, so now that that’s out of the way, I can actually talk about the trip!

Like I said earlier, we went to Asheville, North Carolina this year.  Thursday was day one and it pretty much just consisted of everyone arriving and then chilling in the lobby for the hotel happy hour.  The most eventful occurrence of the evening was when the entire hotel power went out and switched to backup generators for about an hour.  I have never experienced that before – the closest I’ve come was actually on another family reunion:  a kitchen fire set off the fire alarm and the whole hotel was evacuated.  It was 3am and we were on the 17^th floor.

Anyways, the second day of this past reunion was absolutely nuts; Beast definitely overbooked the schedule.  And it didn’t help that Pollyanna kept us an hour late after breakfast for personal issues (she does that a lot).  We started off the day touring the Biltmore Estate.  God, that place is gorgeous.  During that process, we all got split up initially because Bookworm and Gramma are in wheelchairs and had to take the elevators instead of the stairs and couldn’t go in to some rooms.  But then it just became too hard for the rest of us to remain together; I mean, there were so many of us and the Biltmore mansion was crowded and huge.  Next up on Friday’s schedule was lunch at The Grove Park Inn, this really rustic old hotel that’s outside walls are constructed entirely out of massive boulders.  The only problem was:  Pollyanna was nowhere to be found when it came time to leave (not surprisingly, she managed to get separated all by herself) and she didn’t have her cell phone on.  We waited for 20 minutes before Beast sent me back into the mansion via the exit in order to go backwards and try to retrieve her.  So once all of us were finally reassembled, we headed to lunch.  The Grove Park Inn was absolutely beautiful and the terrace where we ate had a gorgeous view of the cascading hillsides below.  The lunch was quite lovely until Ursula exploded at me (even though we’re older, all of the cousins are still forced to sit at the “kid table”).  Somehow, money came up into conversation and I made a vague reference to all of the money that she owes Beast and Martyr (which is a story for another day).  No one else at the table other than Chip and Dale even knew what I was referring to and they would have thought nothing of it if Ursula had just shrugged it off.  But no…my comment unexpectedly set her off and she bashed the shit out of me.  I mean, she just didn’t stop – she ranted for probably 10 minutes (which felt like an eternity to me).  I was awfully embarrassed – she really made a scene – and I just sat there an took it, not even defending myself against her outrageous accusations; I didn’t want to contribute anything whatsoever to her petty charades.  Anyways, after that disaster, we toured the Highland Brewing Company brewery.  That was by far the most fun we had all day:  we got to drink copious amounts of six different varieties of beer and Beast, Dale, Squint and I beat Cowpoke, Scholar, Frenchie, and Chip in an exciting game of cornhole!  When it came time to leave, I realized that I had forgotten to buy a t-shirt, so I went to do that just as everyone was piling into the car.  It took me maybe five-to-seven minutes to make my selection and the dude threw in two pint glasses and a handful of bumper stickers for free.  Just as I was waiting for the guy to bring back my change, Martyr came furiously charging into the brewery, barking at me to hurry up.  I had no idea why she was so upset, seemingly out of nowhere.  Even Beast was stunned by her sudden anger.  It wasn’t until later that we realized that she just wanted to get back to the hotel so that she could take a nap before dinner.  And we later had dinner and margaritas at a local Mexican restaurant to top off the day.

The original plan for day three was to drive the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway to Cherokee, North Carolina, have lunch there and check it out, and make sure to get back to the hotel early enough in the afternoon so that Gramma could take a nap before our big last dinner.  Well, after about 45 minutes into the two-and-a-half hour drive, Beast receives a call from Scholar saying that they only had one-eighth of a tank of gas remaining.  BAD news – the exits off of the Parkway are few and far between since it’s a government road.  We ended up driving two hours out of the way to find the nearest gas station.  The drive was incredibly swervy and I got carsick; I didn’t think it was ever going to end.  Then, we were stuck at the gas station for a while because I’m pretty sure that all 17 of us used their one little unisex bathroom.  Once that was all said and done with, we got back on the road and continued our trek to Cherokee.  We eventually arrived at 1:45pm and ate at an Arby’s, then walked around the downtown area for an hour-and-a-half before returning to Asheville.  During our downtime while Gramma had her nap, Beast told me that he and Aston were heading to the Grand Bohemian Hotel for a couple of drinks at the Red Stag Grill and asked me if I would like to accompany them – and you know I’ve never been one to turn down drinks!  After our bar adventure, Beast, Aston, and I joined the rest of the family for our big dinner at a highly esteemed local Italian restaurant.  So, it somehow came up at dinner amongst Chip, Dale, Ursula, Frenchie, Pollyanna, Squint, and me that I tend to talk out of the side of my mouth a lot when I get drunk.  This really intrigued Frenchie and Pollyanna, so it was decided, based on the full support of the cousins, that I was going to get drunk – and let’s face it, my family kinda expects it of me at this point.  Then, at the end of dinner, someone suggested that one of us give a speech/toast (although, aren’t toasts supposed to occur at the beginning of the occasion?  Oh well, anyways…).  Naturally, everyone pointed to Beast, but he declined, which is incredibly uncharacteristic of him.  After about a minute of everyone pointing fingers at each other, my liquid courage kicked in and I volunteered my words.  I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m confident that it was fitting and appropriate; everyone seemed to be smiling and nodding their heads in agreement throughout it.  And I’m not going to lie, it made me feel really good – honorable, if I dare say.

After dinner, we all returned to the hotel and just kept it low-key for the remainder of the evening.  The “adults” chilled in one room (Beast’s, as always) while all the cousins hung out in another (Chip’s, Dale’s, and mine – the apples don’t fall far from the party family tree).  We were doing YouTube research (and by research, I mean we were all sharing funny and outrageous video discoveries that we’ve happened to stumble upon in the past and archive as awesome) in the sitting area while Chip stepped into the bedroom to make “the call” to his girlfriend.  Suddenly, Chip called us into the room and the most unexpected sight was playing out in front of our eyes.  You know when you’re a kid and you play in front of the windows at night when you’re at hotels because they become like mirrors?  Remember when your mother told you not to change your clothes in view of them because they were still clear windows inward to everyone from the outside?  Well, I guess this dude never learned that lesson.  At a hotel across the way in a room with all of the lights on and the curtains fully opened, there was a totally naked obese man laying spread-eagle on his bed, crotch facing the window, masturbating.  It was horrific.  But it was like watching a car wreck:  as awful as it is, you just can’t look away.  And, us being the sick fucks that we are, we turned out the lights in our room so that we could continue to watch without him noticing.  He even had a cigarette between goes!  We entertained ourselves like this for about 20 minutes and then decided to end it on that note and call it a night.

Sunday morning simply consisted of breakfast and group photos before we all said our goodbyes and hit the road.

I love these reunions.  I really wish we could see each other more, but it’s hard with all of us living all over the place.  But at least I know I’ve got the upcoming reunion.  I’ll just have to wait until next July!

•     •     •     •     •

I checked in with Sly the other day and it turns out that his toe is healed and completely pain-free.  My surgery was, in fact, a success!  Woo-hoo!

A Successful Surgery!

(Originally written on July 6, 2009)

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This afternoon, I decided to go to Polly’s to apply for jobs online and get a change of scenery from my apartment…while also drinking, of course.  As soon as I came in, Kip told me that I need to tell Mario to “lay off”, that he was overbearingly protective of me on Friday night (Mario and I chilled at Polly’s for the evening and ended up hanging out a good bit with Kip) whenever a guy tried to talk to me.  Mainly Voodoo, who has a girlfriend anyways…

•     •     •     •     •

While I was sitting at the bar this afternoon, Sly came in for a few drinks and was complaining about how he had an extremely painful ingrown toenail yet he couldn’t go to the doctor for it because he doesn’t have health insurance and can’t afford to pay for it out-of-pocket.  That kind of stuff doesn’t bother me and I’ve never seen an ingrown toenail before, so I asked him if I could see it.  After taking a look and a little googling of ingrown toenail treatment and removal methods, I realized that I had some special nail clippers (the kind that they use during pedicures to remove cuticles and the extra width of big toenails) and told him that I wouldn’t mind helping him out by removing it myself.  For the longest time when I was little, I wanted to be a surgeon – a brain surgeon, to be precise.  Anyways, he was definitely surprised that I volunteered to do that for him, yet, you could tell he was excited about the prospect of finally putting the pain to rest (it’s been really bothering him for a week now).  And he kept asking me, “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

So at around 6pm after running by my apartment to grab the necessary tools, I headed over to Sly’s house and we prepared for surgery.  By the time I got there, Sly had consumed a six-pack of beer and started taking swigs from a fifth of Evan Williams bourbon.  In addition to the booze, we initiated the process by having him soak his foot in a pot of warm water with Epsom salt generously poured in.  After about 40 minutes or so, Sly had finished over half of the fifth and he gave me the go-ahead to begin the surgery.  I started operating by puncturing the swollen area to drain the puss and then I removed the blister-like skin (Sly definitely stopped me a few times throughout this process for additional gulps of bourbon).

Once the soft tissue was taken care of, the problematic corner of the toenail became visible and it was time to take care of the underlying problem.  At this point, Sly turned long-ways on the sofa and I straddled his knee facing his foot because he said he was afraid that he couldn’t hold still and might kick me in the face or something (three of Sly’s guy friends had come over for support, I guess, and neither of them wanted to take any part in it – not even to simply hold his leg down…yet they definitely wanted to watch me do it.  It was really funny, actually.  They were really squeamish and kept telling me, “I don’t know how you can do that.  You are such a good friend for doing this.”).  The effect of the alcohol in Sly’s system was definitely evident in the amount in which he was bleeding (besides his obvious drunkenness, of course).  So after removing the corner/edge of the toenail, I swabbed it with peroxide, applied Neosporin (it wasn’t exactly Neosporin, but it was something along those lines, I just don’t remember what it was called), applied two Band-Aids, and then wrapped the toe with gauze (because Band-Aids never stay on toes).

In the process of cleaning and bandaging the toe, Sly had fallen asleep.  So I’m just going to have to call Sly in the morning to check up on him and give him care instructions.  But as of right now, I’d say the surgery was a success!

My Afflictions

(Originally written on June 21, 2009)

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Why can’t I just get over Gaston? I mean, as brilliantly intelligent as he is, he’s going to spend the rest of his life in his small hometown in south Georgia (population 4,500) with his (entire) family because that’s how he is.  He’s not even comfortable with the idea of leaving the state of Georgia to get a job – even if it’s only temporary in lieu of the current economic circumstances.  If he’s not even willing to do that for himself, then what could he possibly be willing to do for anyone else that he loves?  Nothing, obviously.  And, I mean, I am willing to move – I’d like to experience life outside the state of Georgia before I say, “No, I want to spend the rest of my life here.”  I mean, you just don’t know until you try.  And you know what?  If you try it and you don’t like it, then you can always have the comfort of knowing that it’s only temporary until you find something better.  And why can’t I just be done with him?

And why can’t I find a job? Not only do I have two illustrious degrees, but I finished in the top of my class in both undergraduate and graduate school.  It’s just discouraging.

And it’s my family too – why can’t I stand out more to Beast than either of the three of my siblings? Not that that’s what I truly want, just a little recognition really, but Beast constantly gives me the hardest time about how I don’t have a job right now, I’m just hostessing at Los Compadres (I need to do something to be getting money and today was my first day).  Yet Ursula is waiting tables (not at Los Compadres, somewhere else) and this is her first job since she started college, the first time she’s even worked in three years (she just finished her sophomore year, but she didn’t work during her senior year of high school either).  Dale just got a job at a fast-food restaurant and he starts tomorrow, but Chip still doesn’t have a job.  And the only jobs that Chip and Dale have ever had were last summer, just for the summer.  Why doesn’t Beast understand that these circumstances are not my fault and are out of my control?  He’s a businessman; he knows that the economy blows right now. I’ve worked my butt off to do well in school and, not only have I always been employed since the age of 16 (with the exception of the past month-and-a-half), but Beast has not paid a single penny for my tuition – neither undergraduate nor graduate.  That’s not the case for Ursula; he’s paying her tuition in full and her living expenses and giving her “leisure money” every month.  I mean, it was never an option for me, it was just understood that I had to have a job.

And, out of the four of us (Ursula, Chip, Dale, and me), I’m probably the only one who will get a graduate degree.  And he didn’t even have to pay for any of it!  Yet Beast makes it out like it’s nothing, that it was simply expected of me.  How can you have different expectations and different standards for your different children? I guess I understand it to some degree – but to the point where he told me that he was going to completely cut me off if I didn’t accept an offer for a particular job that I interviewed for (for which I didn’t end up receiving an offer anyways)…that’s just not right.  He wouldn’t do that to any of the rest of us.  He wouldn’t do that to Ursula or Chip or Dale.

Chip’s and Dale’s Battle of the Bands

(Originally written on June 19, 2009)

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As one can gather from the post title, tonight was Chip’s and Dale’s Battle of the Bands, their first non-high school gig, that is.  It was really cool to see them play up on a stage other than their high school auditorium (they placed third at last year’s high school battle and won it this year and they also played at their prom for the past two years, but I didn’t go to those).  However, the bar in which this evening’s event was held was a little sketchy.  It was filled with a pretty rough-looking crowd, the biker type.  You know it:  middle-aged men in sleeveless leather vests (ick!  I don’t think men’s armpits/pit hair should ever be visible unless they are shirtless), scraggly beards down to mid-chest length, and tons of tattoos and missing teeth for both the men and women.  At any moment, it wouldn’t have surprised me if a brawl burst out involving fighting with broken beer bottles.  I must admit, I felt a little safer once we left…

The guys did really well tonight, though…with a few exceptions from their singer – but they were still awesome, regardless of not winning anything.  I’ve been begging Chip and Dale to let me step into the singer position for about a year now (because their last singer blew and they finally kicked him out after this year’s high school battle) – and I’m not saying I’m fantastic, I just at least want a shot at trying it out!  But anyways, I’m so proud of them!

Oh Dear

(Originally written on June 16, 2009)

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I don’t even know where to begin with everything that has happened today, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

I have been watching over Ursula, Chip, and Dale and holding the fort down at Beast’s and Martyr’s house since Sunday because Beast and Martyr are in Arkansas for Beast’s cancer treatment (Beast has a very rare cancer:  multiple myeloma, and that’s where the specialist is) and Martyr’s dad (my grampa) couldn’t make it (he normally steps in to do this kind of stuff in situations such as this).  So, for starters, I’m a little out of my element since I’ve been living out of a suitcase and not getting to sleep in my own bed.  Also, Peabody and Lilly are going nuts being around Martyr’s three cats – they are not happy about it.  Anyways, before they left, Martyr told me that no friends were allowed to spend the night while she and Beast were away.  Not too much to ask, right?  Wrong!  You see, I’m the “cool sister”, if you will, that normally hooks Chip and Dale up with booze when they need it (they’re only 18) – the way I see it, if they don’t get it from me, they’re just going to go and get it from someone else (and Ursula refuses to help them out, even though I did it for her until she turned 21, too…).  So Chip and Dale have been bugging me about that.  And, oh yea, Ursula loves to be a tattletale and get the three of us in trouble; she has a history of being untrustworthy and guilesome.  So I’m torn between maintaining my “cool sis” rep and truly earning Beast’s and Martyr’s trust (while also avoiding having to worry about Ursula’s big mouth).

So now that I’ve gotten that important bit of background laid out, let’s take a step back to what happened last night.  Mario’s parents recently (like, within the past couple of days or so) abruptly decided to get a divorce…while they were on the third day of a two-week long (originally intended, that is) romantic beach getaway together.  In the heat of the argument, Mario’s dad took the car, leaving his mom in Florida by herself with no way of getting back (apparently, she commanded him to do so, making sure to be completely moved out of their house before her return), and came back to town alone.  So…Mario and his family (minus his mom, of course) have been drinking quite heavily over the past couple of days since his dad’s return.  Well, last night was no exception.  I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to speak with Mario in person about his parents’ situation and wanted to be there for him, and he invited Chip, Dale, their bandmates, and me to join him and his family in drowning their sorrows.  I figured, hey, Martyr never said anything about spending or not spending the night out…so we took Mario up on his offer.

Some more relevant background information real quick:  you see, over the course of the past month or so, I’ve been getting these signs from Mario that indicate that he likes me as more than just a friend (but I don’t see him that way).  For example, whenever we’re sitting next to each other, like, on a sofa watching TV or whatever, he will rest his hand on my knee or airdrum on my knee (he’s the drummer in his band), and he once texted me, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”  I mean, what am I supposed to say to that?

Well, yesterday afternoon, Mario sent me a series of texts consistent with what I just explained, two of them being, “I’ll feel much better once you’re here,” and, “Everything will be better when I see you.”  So before heading over to Mario’s place, Dale, the bandmates, and I went to Los Compadres for dinner, where I made sure to down a couple of margaritas.  Chip was hanging out with his girlfriend and was planning on catching back up with us at Mario’s afterward.

Okay, I’m starting to see where this is going:  if I continue to describe all the details, this one post is bound to quickly turn into a novel.  So, long story short, I let Dale borrow my car (as opposed to driving his own) – but not before lecturing him (in front of his bandmates) on driving carefully because I’m responsible for everything while Beast and Martyr are away.  Dale met up with us at Mario’s later, but didn’t drink, so I rode back home with him (to Beast’s and Martyr’s house) after a bit.  Not only did I want to avoid any uncomfortable occurrence between Mario and me, but I also felt that staying the night at the house is part of what Martyr asked me to do.

This morning at 6:30am, Dale walked into my bedroom (I had been sleeping).  He quietly approached my bed, handed me my car keys, and said,

Elliott, you aren’t going to believe this…but I wrecked your car.

What?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Come on, it’s 6:30 in the morning.

No, I know you told me to be careful, but…

Are you serious?

Yea.

Upon realizing that Dale was, in fact, telling the truth, I first made sure that he and the bandmates were alright.  Then, he explained to me what happened:  they were sitting at the red light at the entrance to our neighborhood and when it turned green, Dale decided to floor it.  Then, a deer hopped out in front of the car and he swerved to avoid it, colliding with the guardrail.  They didn’t call the police to report it because they were afraid that there might still have been traces of alcohol on their breath. Oh dear… Well, what was done was done, so I told Dale to just go to bed and that we’d take care of it later when we were awake.

I got up and took a look at the damage:  shattered left headlight and severely dented front bumper, hood, and left front panel, which was pressing on the tire.  I don’t know how he was able to drive it the rest of the way home.  Anyways, Dale wouldn’t get out of bed, so I took it upon myself to inform Beast and Martyr about the incident.  I was expecting the worst – something along the lines of them telling me that they couldn’t believe that I had let this happen.  But, surprisingly, they took it really well.  Really well…and then they informed me that they’re having to extend their stay in Arkansas from tomorrow’s original return date to Friday because of Beast’s condition…  Great.

Oh!  And I also awoke this morning to a couple of additional little “surprises”.  I received a text from Mario last night sometime while I was asleep that said, “So I really like you,” and, around the same time, he twittered or tweeted or whatever, “@[my twitter name] but I am SO into you.”  I mean, the text was one thing, but all of our mutual friends/contacts/followers (I don’t let anyone follow me who I don’t know) can see and read his tweet – I don’t know if they would necessarily get it; they could think it’s an inside joke or something, but still!  What am I going to do?  Do I confront him about it?  Do I just continue to pretend that it didn’t happen?

Happy Birthday to Me

(Originally written on June 12, 2009)

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I am 23 years old today.

To be perfectly honest, this birthday is kinda depressing to me – I don’t have any friends here (except for Mario – okay, one) and I’m still jobless.  I really don’t feel like doing anything special to celebrate; to me, today is just like any other day lately – and that’s the way I want it to be.  However, Martyr has been bugging me all week about making plans and she’s been really adamant about it.  I’ve explained myself to her several times:  that I don’t feel that I really have anything to celebrate and to celebrate with the family is just going to remind me that I don’t have friends here and make me feel even more lonely.  But that apparently didn’t matter to her.  She suggested earlier this week that we get pedicures together, but I told her that I’d rather have the money.  She said that was okay at first, but today she insisted that I go with her to get one anyways.

I mean, that’s cool.  It felt really good and my toenails look nice now.  Don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoyed it; but shouldn’t I be the one to decide what I want to do on my birthday?

Anyways, after the pedicures, I went out to Los Compadres for dinner and margaritas with the fam (Beast, Martyr, Ursula, Chip, and Dale) plus two of Chip’s and Dale’s friends.  Beast and Martyr surprised me with $400 and a matching ring and pair of earrings that I absolutely LOVE.  After dinner, Beast, Martyr, and I all went downtown for some celebratory drinks.  We later met up with Mario and the four of us then hit up all of my favorite bars that I haven’t visited in a while.

This birthday turned out much better than I was expecting for it to be.  All in all, I’d call it a success!

•     •     •     •     •

Mind you, I haven’t forgotten what Gaston said about coming back in town for my birthday.  I’ve been nervous all day about running into him, yet I still kinda hoped that I would.  We haven’t communicated in any way whatsoever since that Wednesday when everything between us officially ended (June 3^rd).  Well, he didn’t come back after all.  I didn’t even receive so much as a happy birthday text from him…

The Music Box

(Originally written on May 20, 2009)

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In September of 2007, Martyr’s mother (my gramma) died from ovarian cancer.  She was by far the grandparent that I was always closest to.  Like me, she was an artist – only, she preferred oil painting, whereas I prefer sketching and working with colored pencils.  Now, Gramma was never one to play favorites, but I think the two of us had a special connection because of that (the art).

Anyhow, Martyr and her sister (my aunt) were responsible for dividing up Gramma’s estate after she died.  I submitted my request for only one item:  a little 3” long by 4” wide by 1” deep jewelry/music box.  It’s really primarily a music box because the music-workings take up so much room that the remaining space for the jewelry compartment is only 3” x 1” x 1”.  I guess I could put a couple pairs of earrings in there…  For as long as I can remember, that little music box sat on the counter in the hallway bathroom of her house.  When we were really little, Gramma would play it whenever she gave us baths.  Over time, however, the inner-workings of the little old box had broken so that when wound up, the key would unwind crazy fast as soon as you let go of it – within seconds, regardless of how much you wound it.

Lately, I’ve been hanging out with Mario a lot more.  Sometime last week after a drunken night downtown, I briefly mentioned the music box and showed it to him when he dropped me off.  I didn’t think anything of it, just a drunken tangent, and I assumed that he dismissed it as the same.

For my Bacchus trip, Mario volunteered to feed Peabody and Lilly while I was away.  Thus, I temporarily entrusted him with a key to my apartment.

After carrying up my luggage when I got home this afternoon, I plopped down on my sofa and audibly exhaled as I looked around at my apartment.  When I glanced in the direction of my dining table, I noticed that Gramma’s music box was sitting on it.  I thought, “That’s odd, I always keep that in my bathroom upstairs.  What is it doing down here?”  I got up, walked to the table, and noticed that there was a note in front of the music box that read, “Open Me.”  It was fixed! Immediately, a huge grin took over my face and my eyes welled up with uncontrollable tears of reminiscence, happiness, and gratitude.  I then waited a bit to calm down before calling Mario and thanking him.

No one has ever made such a nice gesture towards me or in any respect as benevolent as what Mario did by fixing Gramma’s music box.  I know I could have taken it in and gotten it fixed at any time, but I probably never would have.  I mean, I only talked with him about it that one time, that one brief moment.  And then I come home after three nights away and he’s gotten it fixed for me.  It just means a lot.  Because I do miss Gramma so much – even when she was sick from her chemo meds, she still had a sense of humor about her.  It’s really refreshing that Mario did that for me.  I’m not sure how I’m going to thank him; I’ll just have to think about it.

Sidetracked

(Originally written on May 19, 2009)

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Gaston called me at around 1:40pm (EDT).  I called him back (not sure if I should have, but I did) while waiting for my lunch-interview and told him that I would call him once I got to my hotel in San Francisco.  That was the first time we’ve spoken since the 14^th (Thursday to Tuesday, five days, without any communication whatsoever).  He just wanted to call and see, “How is Cali?”

It’s now 3pm local time and I’m sitting at the hotel bar with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.  There is a trio of middle-aged ladies at a table nearby that Martyr would absolutely love.  They’re talking about pets (dogs and cats, to be specific) and guzzling wine.  They remind me a lot of her.

Gaston just called me and is now throwing me off from what I thought I had avowed myself to do about our current situation.  He just wanted to chitchat.  Then I pointed out that we haven’t spoken in five days.  He didn’t even realize that it had been so long until he thought about it (therefore, my purposeful avoidance went unnoticed).  Throughout our conversation, I was trying to be short, but I really did enjoy hearing from him.  I mean, I had this whole realistic and logical explanation for why he hadn’t called thought through in my mind:  that he thought I was upset/mad since I hadn’t contacted him (which I was) and that he, consequently, was going to wait on me to get over it and contact him whenever I was ready to talk it out (which I was committing myself never to do).  So much for that…  Anyways, he said that he had actually thought about calling me before today, that there wasn’t much else to do in south Georgia.  Boy, how commending.  Go figure – that’s all he said about it.

Still no mention of his decision, no hint of progress.  Nothing.

So I have now thrown myself off of the track I had committed myself to.  I don’t know what I’m going to tell Scarlet.  I’ve never lied to him and don’t even want to think about starting, but I’m just not so sure I can resist Gaston if he does decide to give me another chance.  And I’m not sure why.  I know, logically, that I shouldn’t, but, emotionally, I am intensely inclined to let him take me back – even though I recognize that’s backwards and that it should be a joint decision.

Ultimately, I need to either grow a pair and just commit to my decision, or just give myself time enough to do so without doubt.  My heart is so weak…

At the same time, I can’t help but question how in-tune Gaston may be to this fact.  After this entire ordeal, I can’t control my suspicions, even though everything inside me wants to bury them beyond even my own memory.

Why am I contributing ingredients to this recipe for my own disaster?

Ironically, the song playing at the bar right now:

If he don’t love you by now,

He ain’t never ever gonna love you.

Ooooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!

I should have listened to those lyrics months ago, and I should take them even further into consideration now.

I need to just think of the guide from my personal Bacchus winery tour today:  gorgeous, young, funny…  I should focus on knowing that there are better guys out there – even in Modesto!