uh-oh

Byron's post (motivation, not content)

I didn't know the right way to come back. I disappeared for two weeks and now here I am, tail between my legs. How to ease back into your life....something poignant? Something relevant? Begging for forgiveness? Acting like nothing happened?

No. To break the shitty-blogger ice, I give you this:



Now lest any panties get into a wad, this is of course not a personal statement. If I were actively doing blow I'd be a size 2 and the most couture bitch on the block. No, it just REALLY makes me laugh, so clearly it earned feature placement in this, the blog post long overdue.

Thanks for not giving up on me. More inappropriate, random, and ultimately pointless musings coming soon.

hugs not drugs -

J

then and now

Five months ago, I wrote this.


It's weird to me because I vividly remember that day. The rain, the phone calls, the holy-shit of it all. And now here I am, fast-forwarded almost five months to the day and everything is indeed OK. I just put my new first day of work outfit in the dryer, a hot little J. Crew pant and button up combo that screams professional-homo-in-the-big-city. It will be worn with my new backpack. Satchel? Sack for my shit. REI calls it an"urban sling" but that's a little too swishy even for me. This whole commute thing is new to me, so I needed a trusty sidekick for my train/bus/walk extravaganza that comes with living opposite a large body of water from one's place of employment.

I don't really know what I want to say. It's surreal. The move, the living arrangement, part time work, now full time work, San Francisco, etc....I'd say happy ending, but it's still one giant beginning. The major lessons have been gallons of patience, oceans of optimism, and finding that delicate balance between working to accomplish and letting fate do its thing. It's been good. Real good.

But I'm trying hard to keep this in mind as well:


I have lots of awesomeness happening. More than most. But as quickly as it arrives it can depart, so the focus is on acknowledging and enjoying every aspect of my current good fortune.


Take some time to appreciate this week.


Also, please send positive vibes so I get on the correct bus. I'm still moderately inept at public transit.


Thanks, Friends -

J

life happens

"toddler bikini" should be the name of a band

I've spent the last two shifts at work clearance-tagging toddler bikinis. I must somehow make it through one more marathon shift tonight, and then, freedom. Granted, freedom begins with a five hour drive through agricultural nothingness at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow, but that drive does not involve a red pen or any item in size 4T, so a vacation it shall truly be.

I'm brimming with goodness. There's job potential, it's officially summer, LA is figuratively (and will soon be literally) on the horizon, and Landon fuckin' Donovan proved that he needs a wheelbarrow to haul his gigantic red white and blue balls around South Africa.

Not actual blue balls, I'm sure. I'm guessing somewhere around 73% of Americans would sleep with that man right now.

Now get out there, position your junk in front of a swimming pool jet, and enjoy yourself some summer.

-J

the longest day of the year

Back in the days when my my bed alternately sported Ghostbusters and Ninja Turtles, my family, still a cohesive unit at that point, would take yearly trips to Disneyland. Not yearly as in every year, but often enough that I can't readily distinguish between visits.

As these trips would approach, I would become the typical child I rarely was- should I get Chip or Dale's autograph first? Would we swim in the pool every day? And no, I can't clean my plate because how could one think of eating when Peter fuckin' Pan is so close I can practically feel the breeze as we fly over London?

I'm fairly positive I didn't actually say fuck. And my parents never made me clean my plate. But you know. Generalizations.

My dad was consistent in addressing my overwhelming anticipation, much to my elementary dismay.

"This moment is the best of the whole trip. Before you know it, it'll all be over, and it'll be a good time but nothing will get you quite as excited as dreaming about what could happen."

That's not verbatim. I still had a gap in my teeth, and with the understanding that twenty years have passed and me currently being two nightcaps deep, that's the gist. You get the point.

Generalizations.

The most brilliant moment in your life still won't make your heart race like it did when you imagined it the day before.

And that's not a bad thing. But as adults we learn that this is a double-edged sword. Anticipation is a magical feeling, but if allowed to manifest without restraint, even great experiences are followed by an asterisk even if you'd never in a million years admit it's there.

It was great, but...

The key is to separate the excitement and the expectation.

Tonight, the longest day of the year, I am signing a non-disclosure agreement. I'm double checking my driving directions, and trying to find matching dress socks without holes in the toes. Not that I anticipate having to take my shoes off, but just in case. I'd die of humiliation if I looked like the bumpkin that couldn't afford decent socks. I don't have a job interview tomorrow. I have the job interview - the one that would validate my degree, the one that doesn't have a downside, the one that would allow me to order an appetizer without thinking twice about whether it was a special enough occasion.

Generalizations, but more true than not.

That kind of a job interview.

And I'm excited. But after a handful of fool-me-once occasions, I'm cautious on the expectations. Tapping the breaks, here's the truth as it stands: I have a job. I have a bed. I have people that love and support me. And after the handshakes are released and the "describe a time when you overcame adversity" situations are addressed, my life will go on. And it's exciting to think about new responsibility, new experiences, and making actual money. But it's just that, a thought. An expectation.

This weekend I'm driving to LA to see a smattering of Best Friends, capitalization intended, and everything will be perfect because I expect nothing and am excited for everything. Maybe we'll embark on the sort of ridiculous booze-fueled adventures that we'll bring up at each others weddings. Or maybe we'll just sit and talk for hours, making the same jokes that continue to prompt laughter no matter how many times they're repeated.

It's about separating the excitement from the expectations.


A lot could change tomorrow. Or nothing could change at all. Generalizations, but either way on this, the longest day of the year, I'm sure as the sun finally sets that it will rise again tomorrow. And regardless of what happens, I don't feel foolish for expecting more good things just over the horizon.

weekend warrior

Last night, i.e. the same Saturday night when millions nationwide met socially for all sorts of week-ending debauchery, I got off work, took the train home, warmed up one of those skillet-meals-in-a-bag, and then watched HGTV while eating an unacceptable amount of makeshift microwaved s'mores. The night before that I got off work, took the train home, and watched an MSNBC special on San Quentin prison. I had Eggo waffles with a whiskey diet for dessert.

Conclusion: I need to (a) have the sort of drought-ending sex that requires stretching and a signed waiver, or (b) be taken out behind the shed like Old Yeller because there's simply no hope left.

At this point I think either option is completely justified.

Here's to living the high life -

J