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!

Communication Breakdown (Continued)

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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Yesterday, I told Scarlet about Gaston’s text from Saturday and asked for his opinion on the matter.  Scarlet is really good with that kind of stuff.  He suggested that I simply say hello back, that there was no harm in saying hi.  He made a good point; I was convinced.  So, starting with Gaston’s text from Saturday, here’s how the exchange went:

Hey

Hi

How are u

I’m okay.  How are you?

Im good just bored in [south Georgia] trying to bide my time working on the job hunt

And that was that.  And let me just get this out of my system real quick:  I HATE it when

1. people can’t write out the word “you”, and
2. when people don’t use at least somewhat proper punctuation.

Okay, that’s better.  So anyways, I mean, Gaston didn’t really leave me with anywhere to take the conversation from that point.  What was I supposed to say?  “Yea, me too”?  So that was it.

A Coincidental Run-In

(Originally written on July 19, 2009)

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I ran into Leto this afternoon on my way to the grocery store while she was moving shit out of her apartment, so I cordially paused for a moment to chat with her.  After swapping hellos, she initiated the conversation by asking me,

So I guess the boys are moving out?

I have no idea.  I haven’t spoken to Gaston in two months or so.

Oh I know that.  But have you spoken to Napoleon?

So she and Gaston have obviously been talking about me…  For Gaston to have brought that up to her, it really must be a big deal to him.  And that makes me feel even more fantastic about that whole situation.  He would only say that defensively, like if she asked about me and that’s how he responded because he really does still care about me, yet feels he has to put up his usual “strong”, manly, and uncaring façade.  God, losing him has really been hard on me…

Then Leto proceeded to brag to me about her new job and all of its perks, assuring me that my luck would come around.  Yea, right.

•     •     •     •     •

This evening, Los Compadres held a disastrous employee meeting.  It started 30 minutes late and ran on for an hour-and-a-half.  And absolutely nothing was accomplished by it.  Well, I did get to look at the schedule for this week and find out that they forgot to put me on it for the second week in a row.  And this week I’m not going to ask them to fix me in for a couple shifts.  I’m pretty set on quitting at this point.  I mean, I’ve been working there for one month now and still haven’t received a paycheck – and I’ve been discussing it with the manager twice every time I come in:  once at the beginning of my shift and once toward the end of it.  I can’t afford to not work, but I really can’t afford to work and not get paid for it.

A Not-So-Encouraging Forewarning

(Originally written on July 16, 2009)

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B&B didn’t even pick up my hotel room…yet it’s odd that they paid for my car service and flights…  I have never heard of a company flying in a potential hire and not picking up the hotel room.  Beast, Martyr, and Scarlet were all just as shocked.  When I spoke with Scarlet about it last night before going to bed, he suggested that if I get the job, to just cut my losses and swallow the cost, but that if I don’t get the job, to then contact B&B and ask for reimbursement.  So that’s the plan.

God, I woke up so early this morning.

I have definitely gained a substantial amount of weight.  My suit skirt is quite tight/snug around my ass and my top vest button is barely holding on…

The woman who would be my boss at B&B if I get the job told me that there were a lot of young people here – a lot of new MBA grads – and that they all live in the city (the B&B office is in a town about 15 minutes outside of the city).  That’s exciting, at least; it gives me hope that I could actually meet someone here.  However, she also recommended to me during my interview that I don’t immediately get the new car Beast promised me for graduation…because it’s Philly…  She told me that one girl parked in the wrong spot and her car got keyed and that another guy’s car got hit when he parked in the wrong spot.  Then, she told me that peoples’ cars get broken into all of the time.  I get that she was probably just trying to look out for me in the long run (and hopefully sure that I am the right candidate to hire), but it didn’t exactly encourage me in knowing that Philly is where I want to live.

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.

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 End and Fortune Cookies

(Originally written on June 3, 2009)

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So much for Gaston taking anything I said yesterday into consideration – except for the whole me ending it thing, of course.  We’re done.

When I approached Gaston this afternoon and asked if it was a good time to talk, he replied with, “What is there to talk about it?”  I then, of course, reminded him.  He was being very cold – emotionless, even – and matter-of-factual during our entire conversation.  After telling me that everything that went wrong between us was my fault, he told me that he “forgive[s] everyone back to the friendship level” and that he has seen me as nothing more than a friend ever since he read my blog.  That really hurt me.  I then asked him,

If you’ve seen me as just a friend since the whole blog incident, then how could you have continued to sleep with me and lead me on as though you were still interested in something more?  Like the night we watched Spinal Tap – that was you.

He paused, sighed, then looked back up at me, shaking his head,

It’s different because it’s you.

My eyes welled up and I looked at him as he was getting ready to take a shower, trying to close the bathroom door in my face, and I simply replied, “Okay.  That’s fine,” even though it isn’t…

•     •     •     •     •

On Monday night, I ordered in Chinese for dinner.  The delivery came with two fortune cookies; I ate one on Monday night and the other yesterday evening after the Gaston conversation/fiasco.  My fortune cookie from Monday night:

Don’t give up.  Your problem gets better next month.

And my fortune cookie from last night:

A pleasant surprise is in store for you tonight.

Let’s address last night’s fortune first:  not surprisingly, I interpreted it as meaning that Gaston was going to take me back.  And that obviously didn’t happen…

As far as Monday night’s fortune, I was really excited upon reading it, thinking (hoping, really) it had to be referring to either Gaston or my job search.  Well, now I’m jobless and everything with Gaston is over.  God I hope it’s true; I can’t wait until next month because this shit really sucks.

What have I done?

(Originally written on June 2, 2009)

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Long story short, I “quit” the Chickadee job today.  Remember that drug screen that they made me take on my first day?  Yea…well it came back positive for amphetamines because I take Vyvanse (a time-release Adderall, essentially).  All I had to do was call the doc with my prescription number to substantiate its presence in my system, but I decided simply not to do so.  So technically I got fired, but I really basically quit.  God, I hated that job so much.  Good riddance!

•     •     •     •     •

All throughout this ordeal with Gaston, I have confided in Scarlet and Martyr and sought their advice.  Scarlet has consistently told me from the very beginning – before the shit hit the fan, even – that I need to pull myself out of my “relationship” with Gaston and just move on.  He has also constantly reminded me of how Gaston treats me like shit and that I can do better.  On the other hand, Martyr, being the hopeless romantic idealist that she is, started off telling me that everything would be okay and Gaston and I would end up back together.  However, as Gaston has prolonged the situation, even Martyr has turned to telling me that I should just end it myself.

I called Gaston on my way home from work Thursday evening to see if he would tell me his decision over the phone.  He wouldn’t, of course, and really emphasized that he wanted to talk in person.  He told me that his decision was made, but that my reaction may change his mind.  That’s why it is so imperative that we have the discussion face-to-face.  This convinced me that he was going to end whatever it was between us, yet left me with a little bit of hope that I could salvage our relationship.  How do I need to react in order to change his mind? That question has been flooding my mind ever since then.  However, I’ve still been preparing myself for the “breakup” because I am almost positive that’s what he’s decided to do.

Well, Gaston did come back into town on Sunday, as he said he would, but it wasn’t until late in the evening.  I had been anxiously awaiting his call all day to tell me to come over and we would have our chat.  But I was tired and knew that I had to get up early in the morning and go to work.  I guess I figured that I had already waited so long that one more day couldn’t hurt.  I also didn’t want to bug him any more about it; he got really agitated on Thursday when I asked him to go ahead and tell me over the phone.  It was his responsibility to tell me whenever he was ready.  However, he didn’t even call me on Sunday night, not even to tell me to wait until Monday…

Monday passes (yesterday).  Still haven’t received a single word from Gaston.

I got home from work this afternoon and Gaston’s car was sitting in the parking lot.  That was it; I’d had it.  He said he was finally going to inform me of his decision on Sunday after a month of making me wait and here it’s Tuesday and he hasn’t even texted or called me!  I decided that I was just going to have to end it myself.  I went up to my apartment, fuming, and gathered all the stuff I had that was his:  a jacket, a t-shirt (both of which I made sure to spritz with my perfume), and two computer programs.  All the while, I was thinking about what Scarlet has been telling me to do for so long now.  I walked down to his apartment and knocked on his locked bedroom door.  Thankfully, Napoleon wasn’t there.  When Gaston opened the door and saw me standing there, he asked me,

What is this?

This is all your stuff that I had in my apartment.

Okay…

And regardless of whatever your decision is, this is mine:  I just can’t do this anymore.  I just can’t.  No one has ever made me feel so bad about myself and I have never been so belittled and disrespected by anyone in my entire life – let alone someone who I loved and who supposedly loved me.  I just can’t spend any more tears on you.

So…the part about me wanting to end our relationship:  it’s true, but it isn’t.  Obviously, I was high on anger and Scarlet’s and Martyr’s advice.  I’ve tried so hard to convince myself that it’s true.  I know it should be true and by no means do I enjoy the pain he’s caused me, but, for some reason, I’m still willing to suffer if he’ll just have me.

Well, this (as can be expected, I suppose) upset Gaston and he started pacing frantically.  Then I asked him,

So what was your decision?

Well it wasn’t that.

Then what was it?

You’re never going to know.

WHAT?!  After all this time, I believe I have the right to know.

Well get over it because you never will.  You’ve made the decision, so what I wanted doesn’t matter anymore.

When I asked him why he hadn’t contacted me since he’s been in town, he simply said, “Because it’s hard and it’s not exactly something that I was looking forward to doing.” For nearly three hours we proceeded to debate the decision.  And every time I tried to convince him that what I said wasn’t what I really wanted, he shot back with, “Well it came from somewhere,” or, “You said ‘regardless’ of what my decision was, so it really must be what you want,” or, “Well then why’d you say it?” even though I had explained myself 10 times.  During most of the discussion, we were cuddling on the sofa, holding hands, with me crying (go figure).  At one point, I desperately pleaded,

Remember in February after we decided to just be friends and then got drunk a few days later and I ended up staying the night with you?  We just can’t help but be together.  The next morning you cried and begged me to stay because you told me that you were afraid it was going to be the last time you ever got to lay with me. That happened for a reason; you felt that way for a reason and I refuse to believe that you just don’t feel that way anymore.

The discussion ended with Gaston telling me that no (new) decision would be reached tonight, that we would pick it back up tomorrow and that he would take my explanation(s) into consideration.  Again, the outlook is grim, yet I’m still holding on to that little glimmer of hope.  What have I done?