are you sitting down?

Cuz I'm not! I'm all wiggly and jumpy and wanting to tap dance because....

I

GOT

THE

JOB!

Good bye Minneapplesauce! HELLO, Seattle!

i like cream cheese, that's something

Hello Left Turn! Hello Monkey Wrench! Hello Philadelphia!

After the longer than expected wait to hear from Seattle (C@L!) about the Swank Job, I came across another opening for a swank job, herein referred to as Son of Swank Job. I sent in my resume. It was more of a Plan C kind of idea. I wasn’t really excited about it. I’ve never been to Philadelphia. I’ve actually only twice in my life even spelled Philadelphia and you just read both of ‘em folks. D’oh! Make that three times now. But you get it, it’s off the radar. It’s hard to spell. I don’t know a soul there! No good!

But!

The paper there sounds incredibly cool! The publisher, Would-Be Boss #2, is very laid back. They do lots of really interesting and innovative things. The atmosphere seems like something I’d fit right into. As for the city itself, well, from what I can tell on this here internet thing, it seems pretty darn nice! Lots of things to do and cool old brick colonial style buildings everywhere. It’s the 5th largest city in the U.S.! If that wasn’t enough already, the LIBERTY BELL is there! The Liberty Bell! Oh! And this season of The Real World was filmed there, too! And maybe best of all – it’s an hour train ride to NYC! Weekends of debauchery! And it’s just an hour train ride to Washington DC, too! Best chance I'll ever have to make out with President Bill Clinton! Maybe I’ll make the news!

They fly me out there next week!

Here is a patriotic photo collage I found of Philadelphia:


Suddenly my decision of Take Swank Job or Live Impoverished is slightly more complicated. If’ I’m lucky, I’ll have three choices! Swank Job, Son of Swank Job or Live Impoverished. It feels kinda good to take a few eggs out of the Seattle basket and set them aside for safe keeping. It feels EXTRA good to make decisions without having to consider anyone or anything else, just me. Maybe I really am gonna be alright. Wow!

I spent a lot of time yesterday talking to basement dwelling P. He is one of the coolest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at hairy tongue pictures with! We also had a number of interesting conversations about such things as the Egyptian Two Headed Baby, the Pope, leprosy, Eliot Smith, feeeeelings and figuring out what it is you should do with your life. The Egyptian Two Headed Baby and the Pope were rolled into one conversation as we wondered what the Pope would have done with the extra head. We decided that he would want to keep it attached. And P agreed. It’s not often that P and the Pope come down on the same side of an issue – but in this case, he thought they would both recommend a custom knitted hat. I couldn’t decide to go with P and the Pope on this one or venture out on my own and support it’s removal. The extra head blinked! It smiled! It had curly hair! BUT! It was growing upside down out of another baby’s head who also blinked and smiled and had curly hair! So, it’s a tough call. As we all know it was removed – with the Pope being out of commission and the family being Muslim and surely not giving a damn what the Pope thought anyway and all – I at least hope the Head was treated to a proper burial! I also hope the other head with the baby attached will be ok! Has this left you wanting more Pope and Two Headed Baby talk? Click here!

I feel like I should end this with some sort of deep thought or Doogie Howser M.D. style lesson learned about eggs in baskets or figuring out what to do with your life, but I think for today, I’m just all about the sun outside and the friends I’ll see in a bit.

Nice.

woo hoo woo hoo hoo! oh yeah!

Still jumping on the couch! Waiting. Boing! Waiting. Boing! I’ve had a few people ask if I really do, indeed, jump on the couch at the coffee shop and the answer is this: HECK YES. I’m cooped up in this place for 12 hours a day. I drink coffee. I tap dance. I email. I jump on the couch while talking on the phone and looking out the window. It helps to break up my day. That and seeing how long I can hold my breath. A girls gotta do…

Today is shaping up to be a very good day. The phone is ringing with more good news than bad, my cup is overflowing with clever e-mails and friends are bringing me waffles. Yes. You heard me right. I was brought waffles today! SURPRISE WAFFLES. Which, incase you didn't know, are the best kind of waffles there are. Especially if they are covered in walnuts and banana slices and then shared while chit chatting with a good friend. So thanks, :I:! You ROCK.

My 6pm interview yesterday went well. It’s smacked of formality and i dotting and t crossing. I’ll be way surprised if my ass isn’t in the red office within 30 days time. Come to think of it, I’ll also be kinda surprised if is! Like I said, this year has thrown me more than my fair share of curve balls. If I can pull this one out – well – it’ll be a fine fine day. The interview was more chit chat than the hard hitting questions I was expecting. DISAPPOINTED! I had written out over a page of notes designed to make me seem very no nonsense and unafraid of firing people. I was even going to try to work in the phrase “kick ass and take names” into the conversation, but it just never went down that road. Instead, he talked of moving to Seattle and how he liked it there, told me of fun things the sales departments do for contests and nights out, asked me about where I would live and again, my favorite question, when I would start. I hung up with a big smile on my face and an overwhelming urge to jump up and down. Which I, of course, gave into.

How I answer my favorite question: “I can start immediately!”

How they respond: “Good to hear!”

Tonight is an art show with some friends. The art is all grungy rock n’ roll posters which is quite possibly the best kind of art there is. I love the spooky creepy yet ODDLY cute designs this place spits out on a regular basis. It should be a good time. I might skip outta here early to score some new duds so I can look all cute and stuff, but we’ll see how the day unfolds. Purgatory Coffee has quite the death grip on me! If I can escape it, look for me at the mall. I’ll be the girl with the big smile and deranged coffee shop following her around on its tip toes and ready to pounce at any second.

Perhaps The Haiku Master will jump into save me if I am in peril! I know it’s usually the side kick, which would be me, that does the saving but perhaps just this once I could be snatched from the bared teeth of the shop by someone other than me. He could “hai-ku”ng fu it and whisk me to the safety of Urban Outfitters where I’ll buy a sassy t-shirt and a funky ring while he fights for my honor! DANG! That would be almost as good as surprise waffles, people! AND it carries with it the added benefit of being able to go shopping. Nice!

boing! boing!

My news:

1) I am the leading candidate!
2) I have another interview today at 6pm!
3) I am WAY happy with the news because it SURE beats NOT getting the job!

The couch’s news:

1) Jumped on!
2) Ceasing to be fun.
3) Please! Make her stop!

hanging on the telephone

I’m supposed to write everyday. I want to write everyday. But I can’t. I mean, I can. I will! I am! It’s all suspended animation for me right now. For me right now. Me right now. Right now. Now. I have tossed everything up in the air and it’s stalled, just before hitting the lawn. Paused. Waiting for a phone call that will send it tumbling down in order or not in order. Is this my bus? Or am I waiting for the next one? Plan B is so plan b. It’s a job in New York. One I was offered before and turned down 4 years ago. It’s either a long shot or a shoo in. New York City doesn’t seem the hometown I thought it then. It seems like work now. Like it’d take me a long time to find normal there. All I want is normal. All I want is calm. All I want is me again. Seattle though, that’s like home. That’s like easy and cake and something I can wrap my arms around. It’s the same size. The same pace. The same job. It’s where I want to go. If they want to have me. But the phone is not ringing right now. It has no news to bring. My day is almost over and so it’s on to tomorrows nail biting, pacing, jumping on the couch. I know I can take one more day. I hope the couch can!

i just happened to be nowhere near your neighborhood

I’m heading home. Once again, I was the sloppy girl with all the things trotting through the airport to get to my gate, which like most of the gates I need to get to, was the furthest possible away from where I checked in. But I made it! I’m here! I even have plenty of time to kill thanks to a delay, although while I just thanked it, I’d rather it not be working it’s magic because my assigned seat is a good place to be once we are airborne. But for now I sit with the others, trying to keep busy before the real trying to keep busy starts for the nearly 3 hour flight.

I’m sad to leave! It started to feel like home. HOM! I looked at apartments this morning, took the bus, shopped, walked a ton and met Z for lunch and grocery shopping in the market. The weather has been absolutely amazing. Not a cloud in the sky sunny and 50 the whole time. Seattle (C@L!) is really beautiful. Parts of the city remind me of home, others of Chicago with a little New York mixed in. The hills remind me of San Francisco. Which were my favorite part of living in San Francisco. They make for these amazing surprise views. You’d turn a corner and all of a sudden realize you’re on top of the city with a perfect view of the Pacific or the mountains or the forests. It’d stop you in your tracks. Seattle is like that too - - jaw dropping, breath taking, hey honey look at this pretty.

The job interview was intense! It was seven and a half hours long. Seven. And. A. Half. Hours. Long. No breaks. No pop until hour 5. No restroom visits. Even lunch was an interview! By the end I was half dead. I had sadly woken up at 4am that morning thanks to my inner clock still being set to the time of my people. But I made it though. They seemed to really like me. I really liked them. I want to say that I’d be surprised if I didn’t get it, but after this last year, nothing much surprises me anymore. So I’ll wait with baited breath and cross my fingers that I hear sooner than later. I’m due for a break though, and I’m really hoping that it’s this one.

I’ll know by Wednesday.

GULP!

What :I: prayed for while I was in my interview: that my pigtails were neat.

Were they: kinda!

I know most people have touristy stories of scuba diving or parasailing but my touristy story centers around two pigeons. First off, I have to say that Seattle pigeons are HUGE. Apparently mild winters make for good pigeon growing! Also apparent is that pigeon ginormity is directly linked to pigeon IQ – lemme tell you, these birds are brainy. They’re super smart chicken sized hi-breds!

By now you must be wondering what happened! Did I see a pigeon reading the New York Times? Did a pigeon wait on me at Tully’s? Is there a pigeon lecture series that I attended over lunch?

No. It’s better than all that! You see, I was walking to meet Z when I found myself at a stop light with two pigeons. They were standing on the corner, looking straight ahead and waiting. When the light turned for us to go, they hopped down of the curb and walked across the street the whole time staying in the cross walk. When they reached the other side, they hopped up the curb and turned the corner and headed down the hill to the water. Seriously! These were law abiding pigeons. Waiting for the walk sign. Staying in the crosswalk. I seemed to be the only one amazed by this which leads me to believe that this must be normal behavior for Seattle pigeons. The pigeons here surely don’t cross the street like that! It’s that super intelligence I was talking about. They know laws! They can read signs! It’s amazing!

What I wish pigeons could also do: wear hats.

What else: fight crime.

I just want to grab my stuff, wrestle my checked luggage away from the baggage handler and walk outta this airport. I’d grab a cab to downtown and look out the window the whole ride. I’d asked to get dropped off by the market, maybe hook up with Z or L for dinner and magically have an apartment to go home to. Insta-Seattleite -- just add job! Instead though, I’ll go home. I’ll open the store tomorrow morning and put in another 12 hour day for god willing another $250. In a few days, get a call that’ll let me know where I’ll be in a few weeks. If the brick red office with the big window is mine. If the staff I met is the staff I’ll manage. If the cool people with promises of showing me around will stick to their words. If the apartment I looked at this morning will be where I call home.

If.

If.

If.

Wednesday never seemed so far away.

you're like new york city

I got my cheap ass to Seattle! I was actually a little early getting to the airport. This is most unusual for me. While I am always a little panicked about missing my flight, it usually doesn’t motivate me to get my shit together much before the last minute. Yes, that’s me you see running through the airport, boarding pass in mouth, magazines in hand, bookbags strewn haphazardly over my shoulder, hair popping out of my braids, panicked look in my eyes. Honestly, it’s a wonder I can get anywhere. But today, I wasn’t running. All those other things – yes – still true. But I walked from the check-in to my gate. Leisurely at that. Apparently, this trip means a little more than most.

What I saw looking out the airplane window: clouds mostly.

What I saw looking out of the taxi window: sun, sun and more sun.

And now I’m here. Unpacked! Dinnered! Quenched! Waiting! My friend L is coming by to get me shortly. Truth be told, I’m way sleepy. It’s 11pm in the land of my people and only 9pm here. I had some coffee from one of the many coffee shops on the block and it’s hardly kicking in! I kinda just want to go to bed but it’s NINE. That’s like bedtime for 4th graders! Must! Stay! Up!

While waiting I’ve worked on my flight themed haiku for my Illustration Friday post. I had lots of writers block but them some happy kicked in and these came out.

he held my heart, soft
cupped careful in open palms
you could hear me breath

when i grow wings
i’ll fly around the world and
settle by you

flying in i knew
the hardest thing would be
saying goodbye

J and I didn’t have a chance to haiku duel prior to my getting the hell outta dodge. But I have him down for next week and head locked him into a promise of e-mail haiku duels when we are separated by a whole mess of miles and a two hour time difference. He is one of the things I’ll miss the most about Minneapplesauce. Him and almost everyone else. My friends are some of the greatest people ever invented.

I am off for a 50 degree frolic in this fair city! See you tomorrow! Wish me luck! Pet your cat! Hold your breath! It’s gonna be a great great day!

illustration friday: flight

This week's topic was flight. I thought of kites or balloons or birds, but settled on a soaring heart. I like paintings of things with wings that don't normally have wings. This one is done up in acrylic on cheap ass canvas board. The haiku will follow later due to the mad rush to get MY cheap ass to Seattle!

YEE-HAW!!

Wanna have your spirits lifted?

I finished my haiku!

adventures make one late for dinner

J likened me to a hobbit yesterday. Except taller. He wondered aloud if I was embarking on an epic journey with my trip and move to the Pacific Northwest. If I was the chosen one. If the weird ring I picked up at the thrift store was hiding some magical secret. With all this talk, you’d think J was a pasty faced basement dwelling D&D aficionado. No no no. Couldn’t be further from the truth. J is all mile wide smiles and Seven jeans and great hair.

Just incase he was right, especially since he is known to often be right, he espoused a few simple rules to guide me along my way. He intended them to be his parting words of advice to keep me safe and help me navigate this mean mean world. It was like highschool commencement, except nothing like it at all. I wrote his words of wisdom down in my handy dandy notebook.

H’s Rules For Encountering Magical or Mystical Creatures:

1. Never give them your real name.
2. Never ever wish for anything in front of them.
3. Never eat any food or accept any gifts they may offer you.
4. Never invite them into your house.
5. Never touch a unicorn.

I know what y'all are wondering. I wondered the same thing. This conversation snippet should answer your question:

Me: These rules are for all magical or mystical creatures - - even fairies?
J: ESPECIALLY fairies.

Now, I don’t really except to be seated next to a unicorn on the plane or bump into a troll while visiting the Space Needle, but I’ll take these along just incase. Maybe try to gleam some meaning out of them for encounters with non-magical creatures. Non magical creatures with nice smiles and cool t-shirts who want my phone number. They are surely as dangerous as fairies are. Probably more so. If asked my name by one of them, I think I’ll say Beatrice.

I was nearly offered the job over the phone yesterday! Due to discount airlines not wishing to fly between here and there on Saturday and Sunday (lazy!) I was asked to come on Thursday and return on Friday. I said, and it’s a nearly direct quote, that while not wanting to be presumptuous, that didn’t leave me any time to look for an apartment. Without hesitation, my would-be boss replied “Good point!” and switched my flight so I had a free day in C@L to look for a little place to call my own. He might as well have just said “You’re Hired!!” and asked me if I wanted a regular or ergonomic keyboard in my office, but this was just as good.

Speaking of a little place to call my own - - here is what I have my heart set on:


Charmed!


Cozied!

I wish the cat came with it!

D’OH! I made a wish! I hope there aren't any lurking magical or mystical creatures reading my pollyblog or I could be doomed! DOOMED!!

sun sun sun here it comes

I’m in need of a pep talk. It’s probably the booze messing with me. Got accidentally drunk last night. Oops! J makes knock you on your ass drinks. I had two and was then, officially, knocked on my ass. Now the weird after effects are taking hold, the worst of which is this icky blah feeling. The second worse of which is this headache. Aspirin for the headache, writing for the blahs.

There are things that I know about myself, about M, about life and people and just how things work. Things that I completely believe are true, yet, I need reminders. Some sort of constantly available mom or best friend to help me digest all this in a way that doesn’t leave scars. Or at least leaves the smallest ones.

I just feel sick sometimes. I was treated so poorly. I didn’t look out for myself enough. I trusted him. He wasn’t worthy of it. And here I am now. I sometimes feel like I’ve lost nearly everything. A lot of the people and things I placed value on are gone. And it’s sad. It makes it extra sad that he didn’t skip a beat. Off to the next girl. I feel replaced. Tossed aside. Disgusted. All of this is so ridiculous. I’m privy to this occasional birds eye view of it all and I see myself rolling my eyes and walking away laughing under my breath at how stupid this is. At how stupid he is.

And he is stupid. Immature. Irresponsible. Egotistical. He turned into someone who I wouldn’t want to be with. Had I been the next girl he was on to, had he made this mess for me, I would have said no. I would have wanted to see him be the bigger person, take care of his obligations, prove himself to me by following though with someone else. I would be smart enough to know that how he treats other people is a window into how he could one day treat me.

I didn’t really have any warning signs. He seemed all the right things. I stayed because he seemed sweet and kind. I gave up my ideas of long conversations and reading books together in exchange for ones about calm and fate. I knew I was trading things right from the start. And I kept trading until I think I really lost sight of what it was I had wanted. I was left with a set of cards that weren’t familiar to me and left me nothing to play.

That isn’t to say I didn’t love him. I did. It’s to say that I shouldn’t be upset by this. It’s to say I should have realized this earlier. It’s to say that I’ve known almost the whole time that there was something better for me. But I chose to trade. Trade. Trade.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been pulled from this life by someone or something that has an idea that there is better for me. The more I hung on, the more I was tugged away. Beat down until I was too weak to hold on and then I was lifted out. I’ve been happier in many ways these last few weeks than I have been in years. I’ve been working on saving myself and funny how when you do that you really do wind up saving yourself. Things started happening right away. Great jobs. Friends. Boys. The possibilities of it all are infinite. Within reach. Mine for the taking.

But still there is this ball of melancholy in me. Kicking around with a sad look upon it’s face. Not wanting to go outside and play. It doesn’t like being left. It feels uncared for. Sad. Unimportant. It wants this to be a big mistake, a regret, so it can feel better. It wants to be right about all the things it thinks will happen. It wants to mope.

Cheer up little ball.

There is sun. It’s on the way.

You and I both know that there will be a day when you thank god that this happened. Where you won’t be able to imagine yourself any other way. You will feel creative and fulfilled and there will be this calmness in your little spherical soul. It could be while walking home from work on a rare sunny C@L day. It could be when you sign up for singing lessons. It could be when you look over and see a really sweet and lovely boy who's head just happens to be resting on the pillow next to yours. You’ll be happy you were given this chance. It is a chance after all. Ends are just beginnings. Your life is all possibility. Glowing yellow with it. On fire. And that isn’t anything to be afraid of. You are magic sometimes. You draw people in, you find your way. You are always loved and cared for, even when it might not seem so clear.

Until then, it’s just getting though to that day. To the worth it day. To the thank god this happened day. Just fill up those days in between. Make art. Learn music. Sing. Write. Move. Work. Participate. Be fearless. Be yourself. Tie this year up in a box and put it on a shelf. One day, put a bow on it. Know that this made you better. Stronger. Smarter. Growth is always painful. Always. Know that you took all you could from this year. Lots of lessons learned. Lots of looks into who you really are. Would you trade them, even now? Haven’t you already come far enough to not trade your now for what you had?

I thought so.

You learned that early on. You knew that this was better than it was, even when this was as bad as it could be. That’s why you’re going to be ok. Because you are smart like that. Because you figured it out when you were just out of the gate. Because you know that you are pure potential. The wind at your back. And the best part of that is, you realized that before there was anything else. No other job. No boy. It was just you knowing that you were made for better. That’s a gift.

So buck up little melancholy ball. It’s gonna be a-ok. Come and get breakfast with us. Come get some sun. Some fresh air. Maybe you’ll even smile a little. Laugh once or twice. Feel hopeful.

I promise, the sun is coming. I see it peeking though the clouds.

come on down!

I’m going to Seattle!!

Aaaaaaah!

I made it through round three! It was a piece of cake! My would-be boss LOVES ME. He said my answers were “eloquent” and “intelligent” and “well-thought out!” He mixed in a few “we must think alike”s and “I completely agree with your approach to that”s. He laughed at my jokes. I laughed at his jokes. He ended by saying: wanna come to Seattle? And I ended by saying: HECK YES!

I leave on Thursday!

Today’s theme song: Daybreak by the one and only Barry Manilow!

What Barry Manilow fans are called: Fanilows!

Am I one: YOU BET!

I watched movies and ate pizza with P (pee!) last night! It was a night of high-flying karate kicks and hilarity. Feeling the need for a movie about girls who KICK ASS, I netflixed Buffy The Vampire Slayer, The Movie. HI-YA! Take that creepy looking and bad toothed vampires! Oh yeah, and then lemme finish you off with this sharpened fret board to the heart! Kick! Kick! Stab! Then it was on to Anchorman, quite possibly one of the funniest movies EVER MADE. “I just pooped a Cornish game hen.” Seriously, if you didn’t just laugh when you read that, you should check your pulse! Pooping + Cornish game hens = Comic genius! It’s true!

There are more than a few deals swirling around to sell the store. THANK GOD. Apparently, nearly free coffee shops are in high demand! Closing the store for the swank job would create a whole new pile o’ problems to sort out. It would probably involve court dates and public floggings and running around like a headless chicken and the actual invention of taffy for anxious girls, if just for my own use. I feel like my life is a high stakes game of Plinko where I’ve simultaneously let go of all my plastic discs and am watching, with baited breath, to see which ones land where. So far, it’s looking good. So far, Bob Barker hasn’t rested his hand on my ass. So far, my name tag is still sticking to my t-shirt.

Plink. Plink. Plunk. Plop. Petunia pansy painting pwa pwa pwa. Pick me, pick me! Plip plastered punk rock. Penguin paradigm. Pair of dimes! Postulate posture stand up straight. Personality crisis criss cross. Point part purl pester plain partner. “Prima ballerina on a spring afternoon.” Porcupine possum pond, frogs jumping in. Pressue pulse pupils. Deep breath, deep breath. Pleased.

illustration friday : year of the rooster

Here is my promised cock… ah … I mean ROOSTER for y’all this week. I made it out of origami paper and glue. Then my friend J and I engaged in a haiku duel! Topic: roosters!

J’s

beady eyes squint in
serpent skin under brighter plumage
the lingual phallus

Mine

grandma’s house, quiet
sound bursts in through open window
rooster alarm clock

Wanna see more cock?

(It'll stop being funny soon - I promise!)

720 minutes

Wow. Dang. Yeah. Another long day at the office. These 12 hour days are so 12 hour. It’s kinda like taking a road trip every day but without the scenery and bag of FunYuns. Although I could watch DVDs on the iBook and eat a whole bag of FunYuns every single day but that might just be too confusing given the fact that as 6pm rolled around I’d still be only a half block from home. Instead I spend the day writing, emailing and talking on the phone. Sometimes I’ll toss in something weird like jumping on the couch or seeing how long I can hold my breath - - you know - - to break up the day. But in the end, it’s still 12 hours and 12 hours of anything gets kinda boring after a while.

Enter Illustration Friday! My latest attempt at spicing up the long long days. I’m working on my rooster themed artistic escape for my Friday post. I won’t say much, but I will say this: it involves origami paper and glue and, well, a rooster. Cock-a-doodle-doo!

How long I jumped on the couch: the whole time I talked to P.

How long I held my breath: 58 seconds.

I was asked by my would-be boss to answer, essay style, 10 questions about the would-be job. I half expected there to be a wee college blue book in tow but there was not! I pounded out as smart of answers as I could muster and sent them along. We have the much anticipated part 3 of 4 this afternoon. In my true cart/horse style I have an application for a way cool Seattle (C@L!) apartment in my e-mail inbox. It’s on Capitol Hill. It’s pale blue and butter colored. Lots of windows! Claw foot tub. French doors. You can walk to lots of neat things! The absolute best part though – cats are a-ok!

I got a present! Janey drew me a picture! Look here!

What I think of presents: they ROCK!

I had a funny little conversation with P the other day about Nessie (The Loch Ness Monster! Our peaceful underwater ally!) and what would be in her pouch if she were a marsupial. I said grilled cheese. He said Ron Popeil’s Pocket Fisherman and pointed out how damp the grilled cheese would be. Good point, I thought! So that lead to Zip-Loc bags and picnic blankets and generators and extension chords and diving bells. In the end, he solved all my soggy concerns with the idea of a magic air bubble that would surround her at lunch time and keep the grilled cheese toasty and dry. Genius! Now on to the problem of Nessie not really having arms. No arms! No pouch to mouth delivery! No good!

Where else you might stumble across the phrase “pouch to mouth”: kangaroo porn.

On that note…

pretty like this

I’m about half way to C@L!

I had phone interview numer-oh two-oh last night! It went well! Things such as moving companies and reimbursement checks and start dates were discussed. There was laughing and agreement and sentiments such as “we’d be lucky to have you” tossed about freely. My new office is red wine colored (I’ve been in it before!) and I’ve already decided that I’ll fill it with pink art and glitter paintings! I’ll figure out how to work a Ramones t-shirt into my 9-5 clothes without getting yelled at. Same goes with these gloshes. I’ll dazzle them with my ideas and Minneapolis-free smile. I’ll buy a really really fucking cool umbrella.

A conversation snippet:

Me: I probably shouldn’t talk about things like this, lest I jinx it!
A: There is no such thing as jinxing.
Me: Cool!

I have again decided that music is the best thing since fluffernutter or elm trees or sugar-free gum or something like that. My good friend P (pee!) made me a few CDs of happy glam rock meets punk rock meets Pat Benetar music to help groove away my long long days at the coffee shop and they continue to make me smile with each repeat. I’ve been spotted singing along and rhythmically wiggling. WIGGLING. Heck yes! Thanks, P!

You know who else deserves a thanks on this here little piece of information superhighway real estate? Lots of people! My friend Jo. She took me shopping and scolded me until we’d found an outfit that was professional enough to land the swank job. My friend :I: is also deserving of thanks. She’s kinda like my mom! OH, and since I’m talking about moms, I should thank my actual mom, too. She’s been way nice and supportive. My new friend D. She chats with me and makes me laugh and posts way nice comments for me here. J, too. He’s the king of the smile inducing comment! My other friend J. He’s my hero! He can cheer me up in a single bound. :A:, too. Her kind looks and abundance of wit have worked wonders on my mood and spirit. A new person, S, she is nice, understanding and ready to defend my honor at a moments notice. All the customers and friends and people I’ve worked with who are pitching in to help sort this mess out. C and H, too. They are awesome, fun, funny girls with a knack for putting things into perspective. All the people who read this pollyblog, too. It makes me happy to see that 50 or so people read me each day! Brightens my spirits. Makes me feel proud. I’ve really been showered in kindness. I’m a lucky girl! Thank you, everyone. Let’s hug!

hold your breath, make a wish, count to three

One of the things to which I thought I could not speak has been cleared for speaking! Which is good because not much else has been on my mind as of late other than THIS VERY THING! It’s exciting! It’s ginormous! It’s earth shattering! It’s… well, it’s not THAT amazing, but it’s almost that amazing. It’s a job interview! For a really great job. It would pay a TON. It would whisk me away. It would solve lots of this mess and have a way good chance of helping me find happy again. It’s in Seattle. It’s at a newspaper. I’d have an office and a staff and a boss and a career again. I’d have a new place to live and new people to meet and a clean slate. I’d have ocean views and open air markets and space needles and mountains. Mostly though, I’d just have the chance to be me there. Happy me.

Wowsers!

I should know by next weekend. Cross your fingers. Your toes. Braid your hair. Throw salt over your shoulder. Kiss a frog. You know the drill! I need all the help I can get!

How I want to spell Seattle: C@L

Guess who just happens to live in C@L: Isaac Brock! HECK YES. All the Modest Mouse you can see for the low low price of $8.95!

In prep for the trip there for the final interview and GOD WILLING the job offer, I went shopping with a friend to find an outfit that would be fitting of the SAVE MY ASS salary and swank corner office - - found one! It’s pin stripe pants and black jackets with white piping and hot pink shirts. It’s high heels and pig tails and enough of me where I can smile in it. Girls, listen up, if you didn’t already know this, what I’m about to say could change your life: pinstripes are WAY flattering. Seriously, we should start a movement were pinstripes are on EVERYTHING. Jammies. Sweatpants. Blue jeans. They’re magic I tell you, magic.

AND I may need that special magic given the sad fact that anxiety is the one emotion that still makes me seek out things like cheese puffs and junior mints and tootsie rolls. I’m officially anxious about this job and the thousand other things swirling around me. It has to do with nervous energy. Fidgeting. Being unable to sit still. Chewing is apparently a way to keep busy! This led to some ideas. The “best” of which being really really hard taffy that would take hours to eat. D and I thought we’d call it “Taffy To Gnaw On For Anxious Girls” or TTGOFA for short! It would come in all sorts of flavors. Strawberry. Banana. Spring Roll. Chocolate milk. Nacho cheese. One wee piece would keep your mouth busy for about an hour. Added bonus: Dentists would also probably really like TTGOFA given it’s filling removal possibilities. So as you can see, it’s really win win for everyone. Us for selling it. Girls for munching on it. Dentists for repairing the damage. Ahhh, synchronicity!

Driver’s License Weight Goal Update: half a pound away! HECK YES.

How I will most likely celebrate reaching the above goal: going out to dinner! That makes sense in the same way skim mochas with whip cream make sense. Which is to say it makes very little sense at all.

Here is my new favorite thing: Illustration Friday. Thanks to :A: for showing it to me! Armed with my digital camera, a shoebox full of markers and 12 hour days at a coffee shop I just might be a force to be reckoned with by next Friday!

it's all in the eyes

Today is the day where things happen. Big things. Things that I can’t get into just yet for reasons of superstition and street smarts. Things that if typed in here right now would send me in search of something made out of wood on which to knock. So it’s best I keep my trap shut and let these possibilities decide if they are gonna hook up with me for a while or drift on by and let the next set work their magic. Possibilities are like buses that way. There is always another one coming.

I am now 2.5 pounds away from my goal of weighing less than my driver’s license says I do. I have never weighed LESS than my driver’s license says. Never! From 16 on, I have always weighted more. LOTS more. For instance, I had to lose 70 pounds to reach this little goal. YEAH. Stop laughing! I actually thought people wouldn’t notice! I should go renew it today and drop another 70 pounds on plastic. I’d be nearly see though then! Awesome!

Is that really awesome: no.

Wouldn't it be cool if what you wrote on your driver’s license for height, weight, hair and eye color came true: HECK YES. I’d like purple eyes, please!

Bananas!

I often wish we lived in a world that was a little more James T. Kirk than it is. I would very much like a computer friend who was all knowing concerning my activities and body functions. It would log even the smallest of tasks in huge databases that were instantly cross-refresenceable and provide answers to many of my most pressing questions with out batting a diode.

“Computer, how many waffles have I eaten in my lifetime?”

“422.”

See!?! Hours of fun!

“Computer, how much time have I wasted looking for scissors in the past year?”

“3 hours”

DANG!

“Computer, how many times have I misspelled the word “museum?”

“Everytime you’ve written it, or 1,435 times.”

Yikes!

Fuck! I’m yawning! And I got 8 more hours to go! Wish me luck! Send me emails! Keep me busy! It’s gonna be a long long day!

first the "a" and then the "b"

I spill out ordered alphabet components, stream of consciousness like, when I can’t think of anything to write. When that first word won’t come. Or sometimes when there is just too much to get out and I don’t know where to start. Tongue tied. Hands in lap. Staring at a blank page. That was yesterday’s post. I just let my head go for a few minutes and watch what happens. It’s almost like a game. It is a game. It was in my writing book. My writing book. The only proof that I take this seriously. The only hint that my secret daydream is this, is writing. “Apple orchard angst” was my favorite phrase found in the pile yesterday. I like how it sounds said aloud. I like that it has a rhythm. I like that it makes me think of secret sects of teenagers creeping around scented apple orchards on crisp fall nights.

The only kind of apple I like: honey crisp.

Is it crisp? Indeed!

Does it taste honey-like? Not so much.

The 12 hour days suck! They’re not hard in the way a 12 hour day polishing tubas would be hard, they are hard in the bored, stuck and feeling lonely kind of way. My friends are being really supportive and nice and all that good stuff. Lots of phone calls. Lots of emails. Chatting on line. Stopping by for lunch. It breaks up the days. I’m still tired and brain dead and prone to the occasional teary eyed bought though. It’s no fun being left with something. Especially this something. But I’ll figure it out somehow. I’m doing what I can. Amazingly enough, things seem to be falling into place a little. Or maybe that’s not amazing at all. Maybe that’s just what happens when you start looking out for yourself.

WHO KNEW?

Oh wait, yeah, I knew.

I saw a pangolin for the first time the other day. That’s it up there. Today’s foto! It looks like a cartoon. I want one as a pet! You think you are all smart and have your animals down from like 3rd grade on and then you see something like that and are reminded that you maybe know 10% of the animal kingdom by sight, much less are able to make the accompanying noise. I have no idea what a pangolin sounds like, but I’m guessing it’s something like “gruwp gruwp.” I imagine they like to wear hats with ear flaps and eat pancakes for breakfast on Mondays.

Right now, someone is eating pancakes while wearing a hat with ear flaps.

Right now, a pangolin is putting together a bookshelf from IKEA.

Right now, I better sign off before this turns into a Van Halen song!

mash mush mope mango mwa mwa mwa

Traffic. Music. On a date to church. Still listening to the Replacements. Again with the bar and the beer and the bass lines making my insides vibrate. Mail boxes and camel cigarette ads. Fences that look like licorice. Cars covered in the grey of winter roads. Newspaper boxes. Piles of snow, dirtied. Almost black. Exhaust. A yellow ribbon on the side of a red Jeep Cherokee. The shop keeper across the way bringing in the morning newspaper. Lines of cars waiting for the light to change so they can go to work or to home or to nowhere. Impatience. Horn honk. The last car in the line has it’s left blinker on. The first car now. Everything sparkles, covered in frozen dew. Like a sugar cookie. Like my hands after I made 6th Grade Saturday Night. Like a super ball. Tired. Yawning. My eyes feel dulled. Scraper marks on windshields. Skinny defrost lines on rear windows. The people in a hurry with just enough gone to see. Inside the heat blasting. Warming up the glass from the back. Waiting for the wiper blade to whoosh the melt away. Bus sides covered in ads for doctors and malls and ice cream. So hungry I can feel the cold hit my stomach. The walk sign switching from orange hand to white walking man and back again back again. No birds. No squirrels. No grass. Artificial tree branches poke up over the window sill. Their bright green shouting out over the grey of today. Of the winter. Of the year. Yellow school bus with it’s stop sign flush against it’s side. Penguins and rabbits and triangles and words written in cursive and more school buses. All go by. No one here except for me and this cd. Trying to sit up straight. Legs crossed. Can feel the skin tight around my jaw line. Can feel the curve of my back. My arms stretched out to meet the keyboard. No appetite. Jeans hang low on my hips. The building across the street looks like it could be made of crackers. They have a mustard and ketchup awning. Muster. Muenster. Monsters. Why can’t monsters get along with other monsters? Why is it that vegetables can’t talk but cats can float? Accordion buses. Accordian solos. Weird Al once sang me a song. Warewolf hair and black leather jackets. Broaches on long wool coats. Customers who ask for skim or decaf or half caf or no foam or whip cream or cream or want to know if the bakery is fresh. I think sometimes I should just go. But I stay because I am strong like that. Responsible like that. Don’t want to leave like that. Leaves. Orange and red and yellow leaves. Fall. Autumn. Atonal. Argyle. Apple orchard angst. Archived. Alleviated. Almost there. Almost there. Done.

again with the kittens

I don’t feel so much like getting into it today. Some things are bad and sad and anything else that happens to rhyme with that. Other things are a little hopeful, brain kicking in, dusting off superhero suit kind of things. I’m just trying to take care of myself now. I wasn’t at all for months and months. I still don’t do it 100%, but I do it some. And a little more each day. I worry about other’s feelings, situations, messes too much. I want to fix everything all the time. I want to get to the happy. I’ll do the right thing in this mess. I’ll find the high road again. I’ll come out a-ok because that’s how I always come out. I’m stubborn like that. Determined like that. Hopeful like that.

My favorite part about getting through a huge mess: when something happens to make it all “worth it.”

What that thing has almost always been: a boy. FUCK!

What I want that thing to be this time: a kitten!