I moved two weeks ago to my own place, which is great...
for many reasons but a pain in the ass in other ways: when KeySpan came to turn on my gas stove, he couldn't bc it wasn't hooked up or even plugged in, which explained why the clock on the stove wouldn't work. Which might seem to be the obvious thing, but given that I use the stove more for storing pots and pans and occasionally boiling water and if lucky, making a stir fry, how would I know, given that I haven't baked anything at all in 13 years.
So, I've been super busy and have over extended myself lately, it's been now, or today, rather, that I've finally taken all the plastic and tape out of the fridge - it was new, like brand spankin' new - and I am taking the plastic off of the butter tray in the fridge and I find two chicken cutlets in a seal bag. I know they're not mine bc I can't even cook at all, never mind deep fry chicken.
I washed my hands. I was grossed out. I have been eating more meat since I've been in NY but I don't and won't cook it at home and I especially don't like two week old fried chicken in my butter compartment.
I think it was chicken, if it was fish I would have smelled it and if it was meat meat I think I would have noticed that also.
It makes me want to scour the fridge, which I don't have time for, I don't even have time to buy a broom or do laundry but it does make me think of this:
How do my actions effect the next person?
and:
Maybe I should lower my expectations of people and accept the fact that human beings - including myself - are complete idiots and start from there.
Except in the latter case I think a) people should raise their expectations and b) since we have a current culture of complete inept-itude and stupidity - witness our current political situation - I find this unacceptable.
Actually, I agree with my mother. I need a wife and or a personal assistant.
The requirements are:
-tact and diplomacy
-a sense of humor
-computer savvy-ness
-must read books
-you have the sincere joy of making me happy
The salary:
-my cynical, self-depricating, pessimistic sense of humor
-my semi-decent taste in wine, beer, food, coffee, poetry, books, art and such
Salary: negotiable. Requirements: not very negotiable. The computer skills I'm willing to forgoe but would be quite nice. And also, don't leave mysterious food in the fridge.
Afternote: my cat likes the apt, she'd like it even better if I had to time to pet her.
...one block down the street from where I am now...
It's a small, overpriced one bedroom but it's going to be mine, all mine. After a year of subletting, which has been nice (and cheaper) I'm looking forward to having all my books, my cat, my things.
This of course means that I have to learn how to keep a budget (bc I'm good at creating one in Excel but not sticking to it), learn how to cook (I did make a putanesca sauce once that turned out well, but overall I don't recommend anyone eating food I've cooked), become neater (I don't understand why this happens but I will clean one day and the day after everything is a disaster area all over again), and finally, I have to accept the fact that the party is coming to an end.
But of course I'm going to celebrate by having a party once I have furniture.
which I am weirdly glad about bc that meant I was home in the apt when water started leaking from the ceiling in the kitchen. I had just finished grinding coffee beans. Had I been using the grinder approx a few minutes later I might have been electrocuted. The thought of that doesn't make me happy. But I'm glad I was home to fix the situation, than come home at nine at night and wonder what happened.
It's no wonder people medicate themselves.
There are things I'd prefer to do in life, and sometimes living isn't one of them. It's a pain in the....
For example: I picked one of the worst banks to have an account in: Washington Mutual. What kind of bank tells you you can’t have access to your money for an entire month? WAMU makes money off the penalty fee if you withdraw money earlier than that. Which I’ve done bc one needs money. What am I supposed to eat? There’s not a lot of grass in my neighborhood. But if I knew how to convert salt water to fresh water I’d be a multi-millionaire.
I miss my bank in Cambridge MA in fact. They supported non-profits, were co-sponsors for Gay Pride tho yes, I did also question why banks and beer companies were sponsoring Pride weekend at all. This Pride Weekend Was Brought To You By Piss Beer, Corrupt Office Hardware and Telecommunications Companies That Spy On Their Customers – (Bud Light, Hewlett Packard, and Verizon).
While I’m at it - living that is, I might as well use cash to buy everything. Then the bank and the govt won’t know what I buy. Tho that isn’t anything unusual: food, books, subway pass, etc. I’m still glad some transactions are on a cash basis….
Second example: I have a knack of picking (or accepting to work) in some of the strangest, weirdest and craziest places. Where I am working now, the bosses are more dysfunctional than I am, which is saying a lot. And I can’t say it is a job that I can leave and forget about bc I am on the computer constantly at work (graphics) and then I come home and get on the computer and do more work. As a hobby of sorts I’ve been making jewelry, but I realized that on some projects, it requires close up and minute details and after staring at a screen all day I am not keen on having my eyes affixed on beads and needles and wire.
My mother, in her spare time, is a rug hooker. She’s had shows in VT and CT exhibiting her work and she sits in front of a computer all day at the library for work and then goes home and hooks. But she does not have to deal with font issues and resizing photos and formatting html and creating web banners. Instead she asks me how to do those things. When I visit her, it’s like working. I have to solve her computer questions most of the time.
The worst is that I actually want to learn PHP and MySQL. Maybe I am a little more crazy than I thought. Or I should just get an account at another bank and just strictly freelance. Which I should bc I have two jobs backed up as it is.
I have turned my attention to a folder on my hard drive full of poems that is probably three books worth of poems. I have not shared too much of my interactions with poets, or on poetry readings, or their book parties, or their books. And not bc I don’t want to, but bc I am looking for some tact and diplomacy and I am not finding it so I am keeping my mouth shut at the moment. Not bc I dislike everyone and their books either. But again, the tact thing. I have no problem complaining about banks and jobs. It’s the slightly more intimate contact bt people, poets, their text, social interactions, etc. that sends me not searching for words, but instead, hailing a cab.
Yes, I'm still looking.
I went to visit my mom and grandmother last weekend and went on a long rant in the truck (yes, my mom drives a truck, it's handy actually) about how I was jobless and what was I doing wrong. I asked: should I take my earrings out of my ears?
About the 13 holes in my ears and 12 tattoos (which I cover up for job interviews) mom said:
If an employer has a hard time with tattoos and ear piercings, it's not a place you want to work to begin with.
Honestly, I don't know if that was helpful. It was something I wanted to hear but sometimes I don't know if that attitude is helpful. On the other hand, I think it was in Sunday's NYTimes that 1 in 4 people have a tattoo so if anyone in NY has a problem with tattoos, it's probably better that they move themselves to mormon country.
Another thing: at three of the 4 interviews I've had, the interviewer said that their workplace was "dysfunctional."
Dysfunctional is an overused word and so, I don't know what this means. Does it mean that the boss kicks the shit out of his employees literally? Does s/he shoot up heroin in front of his employees? Or is it just that the office politics are a little wacky? Wacky I can deal with, abusive I can't. But I thought it was an odd comment to make. It's not something I've seen on monster.com's message board.
I suppose it was a warning, the use of the word dysfunctional. Heh. I don't know what functional means, so I obviously don't have much of a problem with dysfunctional environments.
I met a "normal" family once. One year during college winter break I went to Illinois to a friends house. My friend was gay, his sister was a lesbian, and the parents had no problem with it. Not only that, but they seemed to be the kind of parents that actually discussed problems vs being passive agressive or in denial. My friend and I went to Chicago for the day and I said:
Me: Your parents are normal!
Him: Yeah, my parents are great.
Me: Yeah, I think your parents are great also but that's weird.
On other matters: email me your worst or interestingly bad work/job horror story. Leave out the incriminating details like company name. I will be using them for a future Boog City story.
I've got many interesting tales, but I'm sick of writing about myself. My email is at the top left of the page.
In no particular order...
1 - Have an old boyfriend/girlfriend buy you lunch (in this case, a slice of pizza, he's broke also).
2 - Ladies! We carry purses for a reason! To dump out change! Spend a good few minutes digging up and turning every pocket inside out.
3 - Freelance (downside is when a client FORGETS TO MAIL YOU YOUR PAYMENT!).
4 - Ride your bike (downside is clueless drivers, bus and car exhaust and the development of new neuroses: Will my bike be there when I get back?).
5 - Rely on the kindness of friends to lend you $20 or buy you cheap eats.
6 - Quit smoking (er, rather tell yourself everytime you light up you should quit).
7 - Quit or cut back drastically on the booze (I know, I know, I hate this one also).
8 - Consider pimping but not prostitution.
9 - Consider shoplifting (You were good at it once, 'bout time to prove to yourself you haven't lost the touch).
10 - Become a recluse. If you don't leave the apt you won't spend $. Besides, you've got a lot on your plate as it is anyway.
11 - Consider panhandling. Don't be afraid of making an ass of yourself. It's probably nothing people haven't seen already.
12 - Consider selling drugs. Unfortunately most everyone seems to have quit but look on the upside, if you're caught, a jail cell can be a meditative and monastic place to live.
13 - Go crazy! Just think, you'll be an alumni of one of the most famous hospitals in NYC - Bellevue!
14 - Convince yourself that your resume IS impressive, it's just that no one knows it yet.
15 - Write a tell all memoir. No wait, the above list almost is a memoir! I could be lying, I could be telling the truth. No wait, that's fiction...
16 - Move. But where?
Riding my bike 2 1/2 hours...
to help Tim by picking up a package at the UPS Station, which we thought was one place (past Prospect Park) but when I finally asked someone he said it was in Canarsie, a way ways to go on a bicycle from where I was.
It was of course, quicker to get back home than it was to get there. And three people stopped me and asked me for directions to where ever they were going. As if I knew. But I did, actually. Know where they were going, not where I was going.
I've never been to Canarsie. I don't particulary want to go. I would have gone sooner in the week, but I would have melted like an ice cube on the sidewalk bt here and there.
And now I have a layer of grime on my skin. When I first moved here in 98 I had a friend say: I take at least 3 showers a day here and I know just what he means.
I visited another old friend last Saturday who asked me: why did you move back? NY sucks.
I moved back bc I so enjoy being completly lost and disoriented and dirty and broke and having the internet service fizzle out during heat waves and having it take at least an hour to get anywhere and oh yes, I didn't or couldn't go horseback riding in Boston but I found out where the stables were in Brooklyn.
When I'm working again I am doing two things: getting a massage and taking riding lessons.