And it really is.

One thing that I've noticed, though, is that while everyone is extremely professional and lovely all the time, there is an underlying dating scene that seems to be happening very quietly without anybody noticing. I remember at my previous Hell Job that I used to work at before I went to uni, people were unashamed and let their personal relationships fly proudly out in the open for everyone to view, judge and whisper about over lunch. I was the center topic in quite a few of the gossip headlines, and I remember hating it, and hating myself for being so naive about my privacy. If I could do it all over I wouldn't have done half of the things I did with half of the people, and there's no way I would have told a soul about the sins that occured.

At my new, shiny company, however, where everyone smiles and farts rainbows, there is a lot of discression, and more importantly, maturity.

I've only been working here roughly two months now, and I've already been asked out four times. Yes, three times was by the same person (persistent little bugger), and the other time was from a married man, but nonetheless, I have been asked out.

I said no each time, because quite frankly, I didn't want to be That Girl again. Ugh, That Girl I was in the past was a total slut. A HUGE slut. And it was okay for her to run rampant in London, but it's definitely not okay to let her run loose at the new awesome job that I love and have a clean slate at. I've learned my lesson, and while it is tempting sometimes (and I know it'd be so easy) to send a flirty email, or go out to a "harmless" lunch, I've restrained myself from going down familar paths.

Professionalism is the new word I live by.

Although......

Although.

Old habits are hard to break, and while I've said no to dating/sleeping with anyone I work closely with, I still have a tendancy to gossip, to lean my head in close and whisper about people. And while I have elected to not date anyone in my department, it doesn't mean I can't talk about dating them. Which is totally what I did yesterday afternoon with two of my fellow admins.

We're so cliche' when it comes to gossip. We love it. We love talking about the geeky/nerdy/cute engineer scientist guys we work with/work for/take care of. They're all so sweet, and I know they have to be those guys that I rarely spoke to in high school, and now they've ended up getting sweet jobs, at awesome companies making serious bank.

So we talk, us admin ladies, and we look but don't touch. We scope out the scene and say who we think is cute, who we would totally go out with if they weren't already married, and hang our heads in sadness when we find out that another one is in engaged. There's no harm in talk.

Of course my fellow admins that I talk with are already married or have a serious boyfriend of the past two years. I am the only single admin around these parts it seems. I think I'm the only single person in my group of friends. Everyone is shacked up with someone, and I'm starting to feel like maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm too picky. Maybe my standards are too high. Maybe this whole time I thought I was ready for a relationship but I'm really not, and subconciously I've been keeping myself emotionally distant this whole time.

Maybe. I don't really know. I haven't given it much thought recently.

But my fellow admins know of my singledom and want me to jump in the discreet work dating pool, give it a go and see what happens. New Shiny Company is very, very large, and there are plenty of other departments I can sink my teeth into. And who knows, maybe I can get with one of the super smart, super cute, super nerdy guys who are also super sweet and make serious bank. It's early days.

Well, kind of. Barely. I'm barely living.

That is so not true. I am LIVING. ALIVE. LIVING EVERYDAY TO THE FULLEST.

Okay, not really. I'm just busy now, and I have a job, and Humphrey goes to daycare, and I sit in traffic, and I think of outfits to wear for the next day, and I work through my lunch breaks, and I, and I, and I.....

Oh yeah, I GOT A JOB.

FINALLY. You remember like a gajillion years ago when I was unemployed and hated my life? Well, now I'm EMPLOYED and LOVE my life. Okay, the all caps makes it sound way more exciting than it actually is, but I was definitely over the moon and had what seemed like an endless amount of what I like to call, New Hire High. Seriously, I've never been so happy in my life. My coworkers are lovely and were so welcoming when I first started I just wanted to hug and kiss every single one of them whilst telling them through my tears of joy how happy I am to be here.

SO HAPPY.

So, so very happy.

I've come down off the New Hire High, but I'm still very much happy to be here, to have a place to go to everyday and work and be productive and learn so many new things. It's the complete opposite of my previous Hell Job all those years ago, and it's still taking me some time to get used to the fact that people are genuinely happy to be here. I mean, I thought they were all sick when I first got here because they were always so damn happy and that they were definitely on something, because every time I turned around there was another smile staring at me asking me how I was doing. I thought it would get annoying after a while, but even after being here for nearly two months now, its kind of rubbed off on me, and sometimes I can't help myself from skipping down the hallway or randomly jumping up and down with giddiness.

Lots of joy. Lots of happiness. Lots of no longer being bored. This job definitely keeps me busy and sometimes it's hard to find large chunks of time that I can use to cruise the internet to do important things like update this here blog that I love so much, and neglect equally so.

To be honest, though, it felt good not to write for a while. I have done absolutely zero writing since I turned in my final portfolios (that nearly killed me during the Christmas break). The need to write wasn't there. The thrill, as they say, was gone. The urge had disappeared. I was happily occupied at my new job, with my new coworkers, doing new things that I didn't feel like writing. It was a much needed break after forcing myself to write mediocre things that I felt nothing for.

So one week turned in two, then turned into one month and so forth. I had no mumbling thoughts.

They always find me eventually, though. There I was standing in the shower at 4:12a.m. rinsing shampoo out of my hair and I found myself constructing would-be sentences for future blog posts that I'd want to write. I even physically wrote some of them down in a fancy notebook that I permanently borrowed from the work supply closet.

Whenever I have one of the longest days ever before the sun rises, I like to listen to rap. It makes me feel better and puts life into perspective. Have I ever had to sell crack on the corner while getting shot at by enemy gangstas? No, I haven't. My life is petty in comparison.

The words popped into my head, began forming sentences, paragraphs and would continue winding their way through my thoughts while I was in morning traffic, and would reappear whenever I found a spare minute at work.

They always find me eventually. And I can't stay away.

Although now that I'm sitting back behind the computer screen and typing all of these fabulous words out, I find once again I have nothing of importance to say. There's no point in recounting the past two months, and aside from my newfound employment nothing of substantial merit has happened. Nothing to me anyway. Far, far away from my tiny world in Virginia, many substantial things have happened and are definitely worth mentioning, and thinking about. However, there aren't many more words that I could contribute to the already unspeakable events.

The world turns, the days go on, shit happens and there's not much else we can do about it. Nothing, I supposed, except to pick up right where we left off.

It definitely feels good to be back.

My back has been hurting all weekend and now on this Monday. All I can really do is sit with a heating pad on the lower part of my back and ask people to hand me things.

"Mel, can you get me some reese's cups please?"

"What?"

"Reese's cups."

"What?"

"Reese's cups goddammit!"

It's really annoying and a not-so-fun surprise to have a sharp, paralyzing pain shoot throughout the entire lower half of my back randomly throughout the day. Every so often you can hear me yelp out while trying to pick Humphrey up, or trying to stand up after I've been sitting for a long period of time. Over the counter pain killers do very little for me (just give me the morphine already!), so it seems I am bound to the couch with the heating pad turned up on HIGH.

Of course I'm no longer much fun for Humphrey anymore as I can't play fetch with him, bend down to his level to do tricks or, well, do much of anything. He's now left to entertain himself while I howl in pain for no apparent reason.

Being couch bound does have a few upsides I suppose, like forcing me to get my work done since I have nothing else better to do, or catch up on more TV shows that I've fallen behind on. Momma occasionally asks me how I'm doing and if she can make me a cup of tea (yes, please!) and I don't mind letting Mel share more of the puppy responsibilities. But now it's Monday and I'm forced to walk around at a 90 degree angle like a proper old lady.

Fun times.

Other fun times include watching the house transform from Regular Living to Holiday Living. I realized that it has been three years since I've been home for Thanksgiving, and I am here this time round to help with all of the holiday decorations. Usually I'd come home and everything would already be set up, whereas now I can participate!

Well, so long as my back cooperates.

It's always on the weekend after Thanksgiving when we pull the tree out, set up our little St. Nicolas Square Christmas houses and hang the stockings. The house fills up with annual festive smells that only last for a little over a month, and in that time I am transformed, as I always am, back into a nine-year-old girl who runs around the house in her jammies finding different places that haven't been adorned with tinsel yet.

I fucking love the holidays.

I've already received an early Christmas present as well, which always makes me happy.

My student loans, which I've been stressing about ever since I came back home, have been deferred until August 2010, which just takes a massive load of stress off my shoulders. My Super Awesome Amazing financial lady, Jan, who I have been dealing with since my very first year of uni, asked if I needed to have my loans pushed back a little bit, and because I am still a part-time student, I don't necessarily need to start paying them back right yet.

I said, yes, of course.

Thank god! I was so worried that I wouldn't have started work yet, and paying my first installment of loans in December when I'd also have to be shelling out money for presents and everything else would have SUCKED to put it mildly. But now I don't have to worry, because I don't have to pay them back for another nine months! Hooray!

So thank you, Jan, for giving me the greatest gift anyone could ask for.

Speaking of not having a job yet, I'm really fucking annoyed that I haven't started working yet. I mean, REALLY FUCKING PEEVED. I've been dealing with this company now for over THREE MONTHS, and have been wrangling them for one particular job for over a MONTH now. Seriously, how long does it take to process someone's paperwork? Honestly? Because this is just fucking ridiculous. I don't know how much longer I can wait on them, and I don't care how awesome their cafeteria is (it's pretty nice actually), I need to start work like, yesterday. I need a paycheck like, last month. I need to get cracking like, RIGHT NOW. I'm dying here. And I'm wondering if maybe I should start looking elsewhere again and see what comes up.

Although if I really don't get this position I will cry for three days straight, because that would have been THREE MONTHS OF MY LIFE THROWN DOWN THE DRAIN FOR NOTHING.

God I'd be so pissed.

I'm not sure if I should call them, drop someone an email and be like, "yo! What the fuck is going on with my shit? I don't have time to sit around and wait for y'all to fluff around!" The last time I spoke to anyone was last Monday, and she just called to confirm that I knew how to use all of the latest versions of Windows (I totally lied and said that I was fluent in everything that deals with Windows, even Windows 7).

I really don't know. I guess I probably won't hear anything this week either since it is Thanksgiving, and most people generally peace out for an entire week. Maybe next week I'll finally hear something. I've just given up on guessing which day will be the day when they tell me I can start.

Maybe I'll just start going in every day even though they haven't told me a start date. Maybe if I go every morning like it's normal and I've been doing it for years they'll finally recognize me as an employee and give me a paycheck. And if anyone asks me why I'm there, I'll just say that I got an email giving me the green light and I thought it was okay.

Yeah, that'll do. Next Monday I'll totally go in for my first day of work whether they like it or not.

Meh, what am I saying? That's never been motivation for me in the past.

So what is going on Internets? How have you been? Have you been enjoying this sweet autumn weather that we've been having? I mean, aside from when its been raining, because those were really crap days. Only they weren't so crap, because even when I was all cooped up inside, I was still snuggly in my flannel pajamas drinking hot cocoa and playing with Humphrey.

Aside from my days that resemble a Cuddledown magazine, I've been keeping busy. I won't say that I've been busy, because then that makes me sound like I have real important things going on, but that's definitely not the case. I've just been finding things to keep myself busy. It's a very big difference.

Humphrey obviously takes up about 87% of my time, all the time, day and night. I've gotten past the frustration stage with him, where all he wants to do is chew on everything that's not any of his chew toys, and me tearing out my hair wondering if it's possible for me to cover everything in bubble wrap hoping that the popping noise scares him from touching anything in the house. We are now in the stage where he knows that he's not allowed to chew on the rocking chair, the table leg, the carpet, the lamp chord, the couch, etc and have now moved onto he only wants to chew on my hands. I don't mind cuts and teeth prints on my fingers - I do mind furniture that looks like a crumpled piece of paper.

Other than my pride and joy, Humperdink, I've been writing other things for other people. Well, there are my final two uni projects (they better be my final ones!), and while one project is pretty much finished, I have my other one that is part of the novel I've been working on for the past however many months, and that is taking up a lot of time. A lot of time because I've decided to change the story a little bit. Okay, a lot. I'm re-working the entire thing and adding more characters, working on all of their back-stories and adding so many details I won't know what to use and what to get rid of by the end of it all. My part-time lecturer who is working with me this time around with my story is actually really cool, really nice, really helpful, really motivating and really engaging. I'm really upset that I never had her as a lecturer while I was actually there.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I sent her everything I have for my novel thus far so I could catch her up on where I was and what was happening in the story, and she sent me this MASSIVE email back with a lot of constructive criticism that I wasn't expecting. But it was okay, because I didn't cry or feel like a complete loser. Instead I was really happy that she even took the time to read everything that I sent and talk about my story like it was real. I know, that doesn't make much sense, but when I used to get feedback from lecturers about my novel, they would say very vague things like, "it's too dialogue focused. You need more details." That didn't help me very much. Details on what? Why is too much dialogue a bad thing? I think my dialogue is funny!

They were rubbish.

But Judith (my awesome lecturer), she talked about my characters as if they're real people. How does Erin get to work? How did she meet Lily and Mary? Who are Erin's co-workers? Does she date any of them? What's her emotional journey from the beginning to the end? What does she learn throughout the story? Blah, blah, blah. All of that obvious stuff that I tend to overlook because it's so, um, obvious.

I know none of this makes sense unless you've actually read some of what I've written (hi, Erik!), but because of Judith's critique I know more about what I want to write now. I know the story that I want Erin to tell. I know what I want to change and what I want to add. I know what I need to work on and what I'm already good at. It's a good place to be for my novel right now.

So yeah, THAT'S sucking up a good chunk of my time, and so is another little project I've decided to do. I don't know if y'all remember back in the day I mentioned how I went to this networking group and won a bunch of free business cards? Well, back in the day (summertime-ish) I went to this networking group and I won a bunch of free business cards. It was pretty cool, the food was yummy and I met some nice people. I thought it was funny that I won the business cards, because I don't really have anything to put on a business card. I don't have a cell phone, a work address, my own business or anything worthwhile, so I was drawing a blank when I was told to think of what I wanted my business card design to be.

That's when I thought about this very blog and thought, "what the hell. I'm going to advertise myself."

And so I did.

Cate is the woman who runs the networking meetings, and also maintains her own networking website, and she is the person who was super awesome and hooked me up with these bitchin' business cards. They match my website perfectly, and I even love the fact that they aren't clogged with all of that "necessary" information like cell phone numbers and whatnot.

WELL, when I went to meet her to pick up my business cards, she asked me if I would mind writing a bi-weekly article for her website and talk about what it's like being unemployed in today's economy, the process of getting a job and all of that not-so-fun stuff. And because I have TONS of unemployment experience, I told her, "of course I'll contribute to your website about my six months of hell!" I have a lot of writing material.

So I'll post that link here at some point once it's up and running.

And that's what I've been doing to occupy my time. In between I've been harassing Human Resources for a start date (YEAH I'M STILL WAITING ON THOSE FUCKERS), teaching Mel how to drive so she can FINALLY get her driver's license, taking Humphrey on his daily walks, catching up on TV shows when I get some free time and making cupcakes.

Also, I went to the clinic last week to find out that I am actually free and clear of ALL STDs. Well, at least I am of HIV, syphilis, chlamydia and gonorrhea (so most of the scary ones). This only proves to me that Jesus does exist. TRUST ME. HE EXISTS.

But that's another post for another day. Right now I'm just going to eat a cupcake, rub Humphrey's belly for a while and keep cracking on with my days.

The Mother Gene exists inside of me. Right there. Can you see it? RIGHT. THERE. There it is. It's quite small, but trust me, it's very much real and ever since I picked up my new baby, Humphrey, it has exploded inside of me and taken over my entire body.

Humphrey Fredrick is the newest addition to our family, and ever since this past Halloween (trick-or-treat!) our household has revolved completely around this three-month-old with fur scurrying around the townhouse. Whether it's the middle of the night, or in the middle of the day, chances are you can hear Mel, Momma or myself repeating over and over, "Humphrey! Humphrey! Leave it!"

Oh, but how we all love him to bits and pieces. He could get away with murder with that sweet little face, and it's so hard not to scoop him up when he's whining and shower him with lots of kisses and play with him until he's so tired he falls asleep while standing up. All I want to do is let him lay in my bed, and rub his belly while watching the latest, It's Me or the Dog episode with Victoria Stilwell, who is a goddess in my eyes.

It is like having a small child in the house, though, and I'm having to constantly be keeping an eye on him so I can correct him when he starts chewing on the carpet, or chewing on a laptop chord, or chews on the corner of the plant stands. Even if I'm sure he's being entertained with one of his doggie chew toys, the second I turn around he's disappeared and is underneath a table or chair and has found some random screw to start chewing on. I'll sure be glad once this teething phase is over with and he's not sticking everything in his mouth.

I do love him, though, and while he is a lot of work I'm really glad we have him. I only wish I could have gotten him during the summer when I was so bored out of my mind I couldn't see straight. He's certainly not boring, and it's a challenge for me to come up with new and interesting challenges for him. Trying to keep the dog entertained keeps me entertained.

Mel is home from work today, so while she's taking time to keep an eye on him, I'm taking time to catch up on things that I've forgotten about for the past six days. I have so much uni work to do today, so many blogs to read, and my YouTube videos are stacking up (I'll definitely be watching those during my breaks). I've given up all hope on my farm and I have so many messages and emails I need to respond to. I think I might also have a proper meal as well since I've actually stopped eating and instead just munch on random snacks that I find in our pantry.

Oh yes. I'm THAT girl now. My new little puppy has taken over all aspects of my life just like a newborn child and I've already forgotten about what life was like before he arrived. I can't wait until the novelty and newness of him starts wearing off and we all can just get on with our days.

It's nice being able to stay at home with him, though. I like that I'm able to be with him in the beginning days and take care of him while he's still young. I've had to leave him at home a couple of times to pick Mel up from work, and even though I was only gone for about an hour it tore me up inside not being able to bring him with me. It seems like he's coping a lot better than me, since I'm the one practically crying on the way out and he just looks at me like, "it's okay, crazy lady. I'll still be here when you get back." God knows what I'm going to be like once I finally start work again.

Oh yeah, work. Wasn't that one of my main concerns all summer? Getting a job and being able to pay for things? Why yes, it was. And it seems as if I do have a job now, I've just been waiting for things to "process" and be "approved." I mean, what kind of miracle needs to happen in order for me to get a start date already!

It's with that one company that I waited on for OVER A MONTH, the one that I am completely relying on 100% because I haven't applied anywhere else and really want to work there, because the people seem nice, the building is really pretty (with a cafeteria!) and the job is perfect for me. THAT job.

Well, they emailed me about TWO WEEKS AGO, saying that they were "interested in bringing me on board" and have "begun the paperwork," and then nothing.

Nothing.

I've called once, emailed once, and both times they told me to be patient. Things are "processing" and are waiting "approval."

Seriously?

I mean, seriously.

SERIOUSLY.

So I'm still waiting, and waiting, and will continue to wait until I break down to their mercy and beg them to give me a start date. JUST GIVE ME ONE. I've been through enough torture this year I think.

Until then, I'm taking advantage of this free waiting time, and am playing with my new puppy, Humphrey. My little pride and joy who has reminded me what it's like to be active again, and is teaching me how to be patient every single day.

"And then we all dropped some fat ass MDMA bombs and let the good times roll!"

That was then.

This is now.

I don't live the same crazy nights over and over here in VA. My life is the pure definition of "polar opposite." There are no "fat ass bombs," "crazy sexy times," or staying up until the crack of dawn talking a bunch of shit while tweaked out on cocaine. There's none of that. Instead there's more sleeping time, TV watching and couch potato relaxing. I hardly recognize myself here.

However, just because my two different lives are separated, doesn't mean that they aren't connected. Of course they're connected. By me. I am the single similarity that brings the two of them together, and now I realize that the two overlap each other in a very negative way.

Everything comes with a price, and it all depends on how much you're willing to pay whether or not you'll buy into something. In London I bought into the night life, the drug scene and promiscuous sex with strangers. The price I paid was not simply the mental repercussions, but also the physical dangers putting myself and my body in danger. I was retarded. I was an idiot. I was naive. I was this, and that and all of those other names. I wasn't thinking of the long-term affects that my actions would have on me, because at the time I was all about "living in the now." Isn't that a great mantra to live by? Who cares if there isn't a condom nearby! Let's risk it and see what happens! Why? Because I'm fucked out my face, he resembles someone pretty I recognize and I need this right now.

I need it.

Five months later, I'm still decompressing from the past three years. I went on a complete detox after I arrived (no drinking, no drugs, no cigarettes), and am still rifling through my past emotions of everything that happened in those three years. I don't know if I'll ever completely finish rifling through my three years there, but every day I think about it, and every day I think to myself, "no regrets." Everything was worth it.

Or was it?

I know I shouldn't watch TV all the time, because I'm one of those people that easily gets drawn into what's happening on the screen, and I always put myself in other people's shoes so I can feel what they feel. It's a domino effect and one of the reasons why I cry so uncontrollably just watching the evening news, because MY GOD that person's house was burgled and the intruder killed their cat! How is that fair? I've always been one of those people who takes on other people's problems as my own, and feel the pain so much that I believe it's all actually happening to me rather than the original person. It all may sound really narcissistic, like I believe that the world revolves around me (because it does), but I always think that if I can relate and get a better understanding of what someone is going through, then maybe I can help them figure out a solution.

It's the reason why I cry with my friends when they cry, and when I see them hurt I feel like I can move an entire mountain to make them feel better. It's why I stay up many nights and imagine the worst possible things happening to me and my family, and why my mind never shuts off thinking about the constant, never-ending "what ifs." Because what if it did happen, and I wasn't prepared?

So I was watching TV, and I saw these women on Oprah, who were all HIV positive. They were all older ladies who were recently divorced, but had been in long-term marriages. They all had met this one man and every one of them had unprotected sex with him, resulting in them being infected with HIV.

It was a terrible story and I thought, ain't that a bitch. It would suck to have HIV.

Then Oprah introduced a doctor who was rattling off all of these statistics about people who are at higher risk of contracting HIV, and why these women's story was so rare. Middle-aged, upper class women who all believed that they were in a monogamous relationship don't generally get HIV. Gay men, drug addicts and people who have unprotected sex do.

First off, I didn't really like that doctor. I mean, I know she was trying to prove a point stating that anyone could be at risk to getting infected, but she just made it seem like gay men, drug addicts and people who have unprotected sex were all running rampant spreading the HIV and loving it. I know a lot of gay men, drug addicts and people who have unprotected sex, and they're all lovely people. Sure those groups tend to be at a higher risk, but damn.

Anyway, after she babbled on with her numbers and percentages, I had a flash of all of the unnamed faces I had stupidly slept with and I couldn't remember whether or not there was a condom involved. And then I remembered that one Mtv commercial where these two people are about to have sex, but then their room fills up with all of their past partners and then there's a voiceover person that says something along the lines of, "remember when you sleep with someone, you're also sleeping with everyone they've ever slept with too. Use a condom. Get tested." And then because I'm a masochist, I researched everything there is to know about HIV and every STD under the sun and scared the living shit out of myself. And then I remembered that one time when I slept with SBS, and we definitely didn't use a condom because I had to get the morning after pill the next day when I was on the verge of death, and I vaguely remember him saying something about how he had lost his virginity to a prostitute, and god knows whether he used a condom then! And then the other time I slept with Ando and we also didn't use a condom (stupid! stupid! stupid!) and how six weeks later I got the flu, but how it could also be the first "sign" or symptom of HIV, and how most people don't even know that they're infected until ten years later! And then I thought, god, please, I know I was irresponsible, but if I have anything let it be gonorrhea or something that I can take some antibiotics and clear up within a few weeks. Don't let it be HIV. Please, I don't want HIV. Anything but HIV! And hepatitis. Hepatitis would suck too. Okay, anything but HIV and hepatitis B & C.

After I had my meltdown and convinced myself that I had HIV, I decided to call our local free clinic. I don't know why I didn't just go when I first got back home (or while I was still in London), but I think it's because somewhere in the back of my mind I'm pretty damn sure that I have something. I don't really have any kind of visible symptoms, but I have got to be a carrier of something. I couldn't have done everything that I did (and trust me, that list is pretty fucking long), and come out scot free. If I did, then I might start believing in some kind of higher power, because THAT right there would be a miracle.

So I'm going on Tuesday at 1p.m. to get tested for every kind of known infection, and have a full exam to make sure that I'm not just walking around in blissful ignorance completely unaware of what's happening inside of me. It will give me some much needed peace of mind, and then I can stop thinking horrible thoughts about myself. I piss myself off as well, because there are real people out there who actually do have HIV and live with it every single day. I shouldn't be thinking "what if I have it" when they really do. It's not right, and on a weird level it's really selfish of me, and fucked up.

I'm obviously hoping that I'm fine, things are fine, everything will be fine. I don't want to have to "cross any bridges when we get there." I just want to consider this a major lesson learned, and join the crusade of safe sex and become an advocate of condoms, abstinence and getting regularly tested especially for those of us who are in the "higher risk" category.

I'll make that my new story that I tell all my friends, and while it may not be as wild and crazy as my other ones I have filed away, it will hopefully steer them away from the stress, worry, and paranoia that I'm going through now.

But the morning times are what I crave. I find myself waking up earlier and earlier these days just so I can sit on the sofa in my hoodie, fleece pajama pants and two pairs of socks. I sit in the dark and watch as the light slowly begins to fill up our living room like water in a bathtub, enjoying the quiet moment right before the animals start waking up, or the crickets begin chirping. It's one of the familiar changes that I love.

We are right on the brink of autumn, and of course the holiday season. The trees are no longer green, but instead all of those classic autumn colors - rustic red, burnt orange and golden yellow. Every time we step outside we're showered in crunchy leaves. It's as if the trees know that we're watching and feel obliged to look so beautiful and sound so whimsical. It gets me every time. Something about the cold, crisp air feels magical to me and turns me into some kind of festive elf that's always cheery, always wants to make hot cocoa and always has some goofy smile on my face.

I can't get enough of it.

I'm not just on the brink of colder weather, but I'm also on the brink of getting a new job and finally finishing up my degree. I'm halfway there, teeter-tottering right on the edge and all I need is that extra little push over the edge to wrap up some final details and get on with the season. Of course I'm gritting my teeth and getting so anxious from all of the waiting around. I just want it to all be over with so I can start doing things I want to, and sort out things I definitely need to do.

I keep waiting to hear back from this job, though. It's the one that I interviewed with OVER A MONTH AGO. I've since had three more interviews and have spoken to at least ten people, including folks in Human Resources. It's mental, and if I don't get it I will genuinely be so upset, because I love the job, really like the people, and have I mentioned how awesome their benefits are? Because they're pretty damn sweet. It's my first choice in companies that I want to work for, and even though I really shouldn't be banking solely on this job, I am. I haven't been searching for any other places, or applying anywhere else ever since they called me back A MONTH LATER. I want to work for this company. No other company that's even similar to it. Just this one.

So I'll be waiting to hear back from them. Hopefully it'll be good news.

I've been fighting an uphill battle with my university as well. While I have been working on the assignments that were given to me over the summer, I'm still really annoyed with the fact that they waited until after I left the country to tell me that I was 30 credits short, and ON TOP OF THAT expect me to pay more tuition for a mistake that I blame entirely on them.

Entirely on them.

Absolutely. 100%. Entirely on them.

Such assholes.

Once I'm finished with these last bullshit 30 credits, I'm going to compose a letter so intelligent, so inspiring, so poignant, and so mean to the head honcho describing in terrifying details how upset I am with the treatment I received, how let down I am with the education I received and how ashamed he should feel to know that this kind of behavior is happening on his watch. I'm going to point fingers, name names and ask for a full refund since I believe that the standard of services I got were well below acceptable.

And even though I'm sure I won't get anything in return, I'll at least feel a little bit better knowing that I put my angry feelings into a letter and let my final words to that university be a big FUCK YOU.

Then I'll take my diploma, make a photocopy of it and then burn the photocopy in a ceremonial circle that I'll create to release all of that negative juju into the air and out of my life for good. And I'll seal the original copy and keep it in a lock-box for safe keeping.

Right on the brink. It'll feel so good once something is finally not on the brink, but properly finished.

Just a little one. The technical term is a "labret," but that word tends to scare people for some reason whenever I say it out loud. It rests in between my chin and lower lip, right in the middle looking dainty and not causing any problems or any harm to anyone. It's very small, but for me it holds so much.

Whenever I go on an interview, I always pause and wonder if I'll take it out and temporarily replace it with a clear stud that isn't anywhere near as cute and surprisingly more irritating than my metal studs; the clear ones are more acceptable, though, and what I consider to be a compromise between what I like and what the company considers to be distracting. Sometimes I take it out, and other times I simply leave it in because I can't be bothered to take it out. I think, what's the point? If I do manage to get the job I'm not going to want to take it out every single day and replace it with a clear stud. They should know that I have it and accept it straight away. My argument is, why should I remove something that reflects in no way my abilities to do the job? It's a piercing, not some kind of disability.

This past Saturday, Momma, Mel and myself all went to Cracker Barrel for breakfast with one of Momma's friends, Janet. We were all sitting there eating our breakfast when Mel pointed out to me that one of the chefs had a hair net over his beard, which was very long and Santa-like. I then said that it was cool of the restaurant to give him the option of wearing a "face-net" rather than saying that he had to shave it off, or work in a different part of the restaurant where his long beard wouldn't be as much of a distraction.

That started off a friendly debate between Janet and myself over what is considered appropriate for work/different businesses and what it means for people who must change in some way to conform to a more "society appropriate" look. Mel rolled her eyes and occasionally Momma would pipe in with her two cents, but mostly it was Janet and I going back 'n' forth over people's personal looks and the companies that want to change them.

Janet brought up a lot of good points that I normally wouldn't take on board (because in this case I believe to be right and everyone else is wrong) and assessed that while companies shouldn't "judge a book by its cover" so to speak, everyone knows that first impressions are keen, and not just on interviews. The way people dress, the different kind of styles they have and so forth is an extension to some point of their personality. While a person's piercing(s), tattoo(s), dreadlocks or whatever doesn't necessarily mean that they're incapable of doing a certain kind of job, those looks do normally indicate that perhaps they have a more experimental side to themselves, a wild or radical side even, that a company might want to be aware of.

She then pointed out to me that while 98% of my look suggests that I am conservative, this one tiny piercing on my face says that I'm a risk taker and don't mind living a little dangerously, which to be honest, is very true. Whether we realize it or not, the way we represent ourselves in day-to-day life speaks volumes about who we are as a person. There are many, many, many studies out there that have proven this fact on more than one occasion.

So we continued our chat and she carried on to say that everyone's look changes over time, because we change as people. She knows people who started taking out their piercings as they got older, or would cover up their tattoos and would change because they were leaving their younger self behind and growing up into their adult self who was now accepting all of their new responsibilities. There would be no more partying and living like a crazy heathen (or a lot less of it), and they instead traded it all for the Corporate Office, dry cleaned suits and a more "grown-up" look. It's just that next step that a lot of people take at some point in their life.

I got to thinking about it, and it all made perfect sense. I know it seems so blatantly obvious now, but I was so hell bent on making my point over my tiny piercing that I blocked out all other opinions. I also think that I was so defensive about leaving my piercing in because in all actuality, I don't want to make that next leap into "adulthood." It isn't really about the little stud, because I know what it is for me and I could care less what other people think. It's really about the "growing up" part and saying a final farewell to my Student Self. All summer I could pretend that I wasn't really leaving, but now that university has kicked back into full gear and I'm not apart of it, there's not much I can really do except say goodbye and accept this new phase in my life that I'm entering.

I'm going to be turning twenty-four this week. I'm going to be one year older and no more wiser than I was last year. I am growing up, one day at a time, and I need to get it through my thick skull that my days of lazing around and careless living are over. I'm not a student anymore. I'm going to be a full-time worker at whatever job decides to hire me and have to start acting like an adult. I guess it all has to happen to us at some point.

But I'm leaving my little piercing right where it is, as a reminder of my Peter Pan days, and any company that doesn't accept it can sod off. That part is staying with me, even if it's not who I am anymore.

I didn't start smoking again, in case you were wondering. Mostly because I'm stupidly poor and can't even buy a pack of gum to try and ease the smoke cravings. Instead, I've found a new addiction that I believe is a lot healthier for me and teaches me some valuable lessons.

I am of course referring to that bastard game on facebook called FarmVille. I've only been farming for a little over a day and already I'm hooked like some kind of farming crack addict. I plow, I harvest, I pet my animals and clean up my neighbors farms when they're away. I do this for hours and forget that I'm unemployed, still finishing up my last term of university and should probably even take a shower now and again.

You wouldn't think that a game like this would teach anyone anything, except to waste endless amounts of time when I could be doing something much more productive (like blogging, for instance), but it teaches me how to be more patient, which as we all know is a very hard lesson for me to learn. I'm greedy, selfish and want everything to happen RIGHT NOW. Why do I have to wait for my pumpkins to grow in eight hours until I can harvest them? That's so long from now! I WANT TO HARVEST THEM NOW.

That then leads me to start planning things a little bit more on my farm. I have to calculate how long it'll take something to grow and if the coins I'll receive for my patience is even worth it. Can I be bothered to plant an entire farm full of strawberries? Sure, it only takes them four hours to grow, but I only receive 35 coins for my patience. Not worth it in my book. I'd much rather go for the rice that takes 12 hours to grow, but costs 89 coins when it comes to harvest.

Oh yes, my friends. I am that girl on facebook now.

Aside from perfecting my electronic green thumb, I have been doing other things. I'm still half-heartedly searching for a job and have some promising prospects in my near future. Why, just this Thursday I have double booked myself for two interviews! Last week I was supposed to go in for an interview for an executive assistant position. It was cancelled twice (!) and then re-scheduled for this Thursday at 5p.m. Like, who has interviews that late? Seriously. It's such a pain in the ass. Either way, it's scheduled and if they cancel on me one more time I might just tell them not to even bother with me anymore.

This morning I was woken up by the cell phone ringing and had to practice saying, "hello" a couple of times before I answered. I didn't want the person on the other end to hear my groggy voice, even though I was sure they could still probably tell I had just woken up seconds before.

Turns out it was the hiring manager from a company that I interviewed with a month ago. A MONTH AGO. A full month! Who waits that long to get in contact with a potential candidate? Seriously. Pretty ridiculous if you ask me. She didn't even ask if I was still available for work! She just said that they would like me to come in for a second interview to meet with someone I didn't speak to before on my first interview, which happened A MONTH AGO.

I agreed of course. Even though it was a month ago, it's still with a bitchin' company whose benefits are twice as bitchin'. I mean, if I could land this job I'd probably stay with them for years because the benefits are THAT GOOD. You know, if I get it and they ever call since they seem to like taking their sweet time getting in touch with people!

While I'm there, I'm going to meet up with my good friend, Erik, who also works at the same company. We haven't seen each other since he was in London to visit with me, so it'll be nice to have a couple of tacos from Chipotle and catch up on each other's lives. I'm really excited for it actually.

I have a third job option as well, which came from that one previous Shit Job That I Hated With A Burning Passion. The Shit Job was "put on hold" because the Shit Company didn't even know if they wanted to keep that position anymore. I was like, "thanks for letting me know A MONTH LATER." I'm glad I wasn't waiting for that to pull through. This new job, however, is working for the recruiting company that was trying to get me the Shit Job (if that makes sense). It turns out that their accounts manager needs an Executive Personal Assistant ASAP and said that they'd let me know their decision by Friday. I already had a phone interview with them at 9P.M. RIGHT BEFORE GREY'S ANATOMY STARTED. Who calls people at 9p.m. to have a phone interview? Seriously. What is wrong with these companies these days?!

Mr. Late Night Phone Call interviewed me for twenty-three whole minutes, and because I wasn't exactly in an interview mood, and I was watching Grey's Anatomy on mute while he jabbered away, I gave some pretty forward answers that I probably wouldn't have normally given if it was a standard, normal interview. Although, I think he thoroughly enjoyed my super honest answers and said that he'd let me know something soon. I just hope he doesn't call again during any of my other favorite shows.

SO. It looks like even though I've pretty much given up on this whole "job searching" thing, stuff seems to keep coming in. I hope one of these jobs sticks, though, because I'm getting really tired of being unemployed. Sure, it was fun for a little while, but now I want to have a different reason to leave the house, other than going out for groceries. It feels like something should happen for me soon though.

Until then, you can find me out on the farm.

Complain.

Oh, god (!) do I love complaining! And whining and crying and all of that really annoying shit that people generally can't put up with because it makes them feel like glass is slowly being inserted into their brains.

BUT, I love it. It's AMAZING. Therapeutic even.

Sometimes I even like to hear other people complain, because I realize that we all have problems that we need to vent from time to time. Do you have a problem? If so, EMAIL ME TO COMPLAIN ABOUT IT. Because I know after people complain, after they get that heavy load off of their chest and share it with someone else, you usually feel SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Of course, after you do all of that complaining, you had better go and try to do something to fix it, because I can only handle so much complaining on the same topic before I start going a little mad. Complaining is just the first step to actually fixing whatever it is you're complaining about in the first place.

But for the most part, I'm totally down with complaining.

SO. Here's my blog post where I don't do anything else except complain about my problems. Enjoy.

We all know I'm unemployed. This is no secret. I have spent many weeks, months even, accepting and getting used to this fact. I know the economy is shit at the moment, and it's particularly difficult for people my age to find work straight out of university, so I shouldn't be expecting anything amazing straight away.

I can try. But I shouldn't expect anything.

Recently, while I've been unemployed, I have spent many hours cruising the internet searching for potential jobs that are non-government related since the government will most likely frown upon my past life choices. I don't like being looked down at (figuratively speaking; I know my short stature leads to people literally looking down at me). I definitely don't like being judged or otherwise told that I'm a bad person because I happened to leave the country and experience another side of life that many people don't agree with. So with that I've basically ruled out all government jobs, which is fine since I personally don't agree with the government contracting business anyway and it's not what I want to do with the rest of my life.

The only downside to that is that 80% of the jobs around here are government contracting jobs, leaving a much smaller pool for me to choose from, and making it significantly harder for me to compete with the other thousands of unemployed workers in my neighborhood. Not only that, the likelihood of me finding my Super Awesome Dream Job around here is also sliced in half.

But I keep trying. I keep applying for different little writing gigs I see, build up my portfolio and continue searching for viable contacts. Networking. I'm trying to get my Networking Ball rolling.

A couple of weeks ago when I went to go interview for this really Shit Job that I was not excited about at all in the slightest, I met this woman who was my "local contact" for that business. We were both sitting in the reception area waiting for the hiring manager to come out and meet with us, and were just chatting about our plans for the weekend. I mentioned that I'd probably be working on some articles since I am a writer after all, and that's something that writers do occasionally.

When I mentioned that I was a writer and that I was just starting off in "the business," she got really excited and mentioned this networking group that her friend does. She explained that it was basically an online website for women to meet, network and help each other out with their personal businesses, and how it might be beneficial to me since I was new and didn't really know that many people locally.

Fast forward a week or so, and I found myself at my very first networking meeting. It was a group of about twenty-five women, each who had their own business and were looking to meet other women who might be able to help them grow, or who they might be able to help. It was all set up really nice, with a mini buffet and little vendor tables that were set up by local business owners; there were these women who owned their own jewelry stand, another woman who specialized in beauty products, a woman who sold designer jeans at a very discount price and so forth.

It was a little strange at first for me, but after a while I kind of got the hang of it all and thought it was pretty cool.

One of the women there, Sandy, was selling these beauty products that I was really interested in. It kind of reminded me a little bit of Mary Kay or Avon, but the thing that I found most appealing was the fact that the products were all 100% natural and eco-friendly, which is something that I've been trying to find for a while now ever since I saw this program ages ago about the different kinds of chemicals that are put into beauty products and how harmful they can be.

Yesterday I decided to meet up with Sandy to talk about my job searches, my future career goals and whatnot, and also to talk a bit about her products since we didn't really have much time at the networking meeting. I wanted to get more information to see if they'd be something that I'd really want to use and I thought I might even be able to get an article out of it since I do write for an online beauty/fashion magazine.

We had a lovely conversation in the afternoon sitting at Panera talking about my future plans, how much I hate Corporate Life, her products that she sells, her business and so forth. The business was set up on the basis of like how they do Mary Kay and Avon, but I didn't plan on doing any of that. To be honest, I just can't be bothered to set up my own business like that and give it the full amount of time and energy that it requires.

But the products are pretty sweet.

I like the fact that they're all 100% natural, that they don't cost an arm and a leg, that they're eco-friendly, that they're made from recyclables and all that jazz. I've been waiting a while to toss out my expensive name brand beauty products that leave my face feeling clogged, gross and could potentially lead me down a road of hell because of the harmful chemicals that they pack into it. I'm all about health and awareness, even if I do eat poorly and hardly exercise.

So I took some free samples home and was excited to see how they worked. I briefly considered being a representative who could become a part of the crazy Beauty Product Empire and forego all of my dreams of being a writer to become an evangelical leader spreading the good word of natural vs. chemical. But it got too tiring and I figured it'd probably be best if I remained a client.

I was a bit leery of telling Momma, though, because I knew the minute I mentioned the fact that Sandy sold beauty products, she was going to go off the deep end and rant about how she was just playing with my hopes and dreams, making it seem like I was going to be a millionaire over night, that it was a pyramid scheme and I needed to forget about it all together. Sandy was a housewife that could afford to spend all of her time on selling beauty products, and I had other obligations that I needed to focus on, instead of wasting time, money and energy on some crackpot idea.

I was right. The second I mentioned the beauty products, Momma went off on her spiel about how this was setting myself up for disaster, and why do I let people talk me into these things? Haven't I learned from other past disasters before and I needed to get a real job that will keep me locked down at a desk probably doing data entry and slowly crushing my soul. Because THAT sounds a lot better.

I cried of course, because whenever I feel too much of any one emotion, there's nothing left for me to do except cry. I also yelled at her because she wasn't listening to me. I didn't plan on becoming the new spokesperson for these 100% natural beauty products OKAY. I just wanted to try them, see if I liked them, and maybe later down the road recommend them to some people who I know have skin issues and have tried other things that have failed them in the past. Was that such an awful thing to do? Could I not even sit down with the woman to have a conversation, drink some lemonade and talk a little business? IT'S NOT LIKE I WAS DOING ANYTHING ELSE WITH MY TIME.

The thing about networking and meeting all of these different people I've learned, is that you can help them while they try and help you. Sandy was saying that she knows of other great networking groups where I could try and meet people who are more in my field of interest with writing, and eventually if I keep trying I just might find someone around here who might be able to lend me helping hand. Her line of business was beauty products. I couldn't really help her much (unless she needs me to write a review), but I might know someone else, and she might know someone else for me. That's all it really is, and since I have absolutely no contacts of my own here I thought it couldn't hurt to give it a go.

Why did Momma have to shit all over it and make it seem like some kind of evil that was taking over my mind?

All of those past events lead me to here, sitting at my laptop and thinking about all of this nonsense. Mine and Momma's argument last night (over nothing) just reminded me why we have problems in our mother/daughter relationship and why I get so frustrated with how things can be around here. Why I don't fit in here. Why I left.

I've thought about it a lot ever since I came back home, about how sad and unhappy I was in London, but it was because of things I could have fixed. I was really unhappy mostly because I didn't have any money and how much stress that put on me. Yeah, I was homesick and missed certain people, certain things, but I'm sure it would have been the same if I lived a couple of states away. I wasn't lacking in friendships or unhappy because people didn't understand where I was coming from.

If I could have found a decent paying job and got a work permit, I would have happily stayed in London. I would have continued my life there and wouldn't have stressed about the things I'm currently stressing about. I wouldn't have fought with the government, I wouldn't be starting from scratch and trying to think of new ways to go back. I wouldn't be at home feeling like I've taken three giant steps backwards thinking that this is going to take me much longer to get out of than I had originally thought. I just would have kept on living the London Life and that would have been that.

I am back at home, though. I am starting from scratch. I am trying to rebuild myself over here and trying to figure out what step is next for me. I am trying to figure out if I do fit in here and if it's at all possible for me to not feel like a dick. These are the new things that I'm trying to deal with. It's just hard for me at the moment and my Frustration Tolerance isn't very high and I tend to get easily let down when things don't go my way, or when Momma takes something that I want to try and slaps it around with Negativity. Doesn't she understand that now I'm unhappy with where I'm at in my life? Doesn't she empathize even a little bit with the fact that I left an entire life in a city that I now miss more than anything? Doesn't she know that I came back because I wanted to be closer to her and Mel, but when she talks to me like I'm fourteen it doesn't do anything except push me away. Doesn't she know that I have been trying really hard to be some kind of contributing family member, but spending my days locked behind a desk doing some unknown mind-numbing task for the next twenty years isn't exactly what I planned for.

You know, I understand why Momma tells us all of the bad things before we even attempt something that's different or out of the ordinary. I realize it's because she doesn't want us to set ourselves up for failure or to get caught up in something that we're going to have to dig ourselves out of for the next ten years. I know she doesn't want us to get used, duped or treated unfairly. I know all of this, which is why I'm always careful before I leap into anything that could potentially lead me down a path where I might be used, duped or treated unfairly. I am skeptical about some things and I know that not everyone is out there to help other people, but rather help themselves. Those are all Risk Factors. But why does she constantly have to rain on our parades, be the Debbie Downer and not even hold a little bit of trust in our judgment? It only leads to us feeling like we're not good enough, that we can't do things and hold us back from doing anything new that might not be "normal," but might be right for us.

So now, after all of that, I'm just left here, in bed, at my laptop, still trying to maneuver my way around in this quicksand that's slowly taking me under. As Will Young sings in one of his many amazing songs, "I just need a break, a little one."

Just give me a break. I'll take it from there.

Way too much.

I used to not like American TV. When I was away (and even a bit before I left), I hardly watched any TV, and the time I did spend in front of it, I mostly watched British reality shows. Whenever I'd come back home and flip on the telly, it was too much for me to handle in one go. American TV, if you're not used to it (or have been away from it for a long period of time), can be very In Your Face at times and is DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA all the time. Our morning news channels, our entertainment channels, our reality TV, our sit down sitcoms, everything. It's always very over the top and can be a tad over dramatized.

BUT, once you get used to it, god it can be addicting. I can't get enough of it now, and for the past two weeks I have relinquished any kind of responsibility to finding a job or doing any kind of productive writing, and have instead taken to watching anything that's on TV. And what have I learned in the past week that the television has taught me?

We are all crazy.

And it's cool. But we're all definitely bat shit crazy.

Just this past week, I've watched countless episodes of E! True Hollywood Story. Oh my goodness y'all, I love this show. I have always loved this show, but when you watch so many back to back, it can really have an effect on you. I watched one about kidnappings, which frightened me so much, now every time I hear a noise in the house I swear it's some pedophile trying to break in to kidnap me and keep me locked away in some motel room for months. I watch all of these stories about famous people who have hard times, and either manage to overcome it and make extraordinary comebacks, or eventually lose their battle with the limelight and are forever remembered as an icon who left a prominent mark on the entertainment industry.

One of my favorite episodes is the one about Christina Aguilera. When the pop stars like Christina, Britney, Mandy and all of the boy bands were first emerging, I was going through that phase where everything pop was retarded, and so I never admitted to liking her music. I thought she was just some air head pop star and I was showing how cool I was by not buying her albums, but instead listening to Linkin' Park and screaming about how I felt misunderstood. Little did I know that I'd eventually morph into one of her biggest fans and grow to admire her as a person and acknowledge her amazing talent. Now I can say that I am a full fledged Christina fan, and have boundless respect for her.

This week was also the premiere of Oprah's 24th season, and she opened with a two-day show and a very candid interview with the legendary Whitney Houston. I had been waiting for ages, as most of the world has, and I was eager to hear what she had to say about her seven year absence.

It was awesome.

That interview with Oprah and Whitney Houston was awesome. And I don't care what anyone else says.

Bless Whitney Houston, for being so open, so honest and just telling it like it is. Her voice was a little scratchy, and it sounded like she could have done with some water, but I totally understood where she was coming from. Her life is obviously ten thousand times bigger than mine, so her stories were on a much grander scale, but nonetheless it was the same. I related to Whitney. I felt where she was coming from. I knew what she meant when she said that she used drugs to cover up the pain, how she can sometimes have the desire for it, and trying to take it one day at a time. I knew what she meant when she was talking about her attraction to Bobby and how they had passion for the passion, and how the relationship eventually became destructive. She was trying to find herself, like we all try to do. She just had to do it very publicly and was criticized every step of the way.

When E! updates her True Hollywood Story, she will be one of the entertainers that makes it out to the other side.

Then there is of course, this past Sunday's antics at the 2009 Mtv Video Music Awards with Kanye West showing how much of a dick he can be. I watched on as it happened live and cringed, and felt so horrible for sweet Taylor Swift who was so genuinely shocked and excited. And then not so excited.

I rarely get too upset or thrown by things that famous people do these days, because I'm like, meh, they're famous. But this whole hullabaloo really upset me, because it was rude and humiliating to Taylor. Regardless if people like her music or what their opinions were about who should have won, it was her moment and he ruined it for her. I don't like rude people, and I certainly do not like Kanye West (although his songs are damn catchy).

People are saying that it was staged for one reason or another, but I don't care either way. On Sunday we all saw Kanye West make an ass out of himself and now he's having to live with the aftermath. He even stated on Jay Leno that he was going to take some time off to reflect on himself, which I think is probably for the best. We all need that kind of time. Whitney Houston took seven years. I'm taking time off now. There's nothing wrong with it.

These famous people, these superstars, these icons, these legends - they're all people. They're all humans who have problems just like you and me. They all have talent (well, most of them) and we place them up high on these pedestals and then set unimaginable standards for them to constantly live up to; no wonder most of them go off the deep end and lose themselves. I can barely live up to my own expectations, let alone everyone else's. Why should we expect them to be any different? But we do, and then we judge them.

It must be hard to live under those bright lights and try to please everyone. I used to say that it was their choice to be famous, so they have to live with the consequences, but I don't think that anymore. In some cases, yes, people are simply famous because they're famous, and bring on a lot of unwanted attention to themselves. But musicians, actors and other famous personalities are just trying to make it like the rest of us. They make movies, or they sing songs. That's their jobs, we should let them do it and give them some peace. Otherwise we end up tearing down the people we helped raise up, and that's not good for anybody.

It's so weird to think about my time at uni, now that I'm back at home and have had time to sort through all of my leftover emotions and memories. I'm not sure if anyone felt the same super powers that I did, but I never felt that I wasn't safe, and I certainly never thought anything bad could happen. University was shrouded in this invisible safety bubble that kept us all shielded from the outside dangers and I never worried that I'd ever fall victim to any kind of horrible misfortune.

Since I've come back home, however, I am now acutely aware of every single danger that surrounds not only me, but also Momma and Mel. Perhaps it's having too much time on my hands to sit and think about all of the different things that could happen, but I'm not sure that's it; I had loads of time to sit around at uni and I never thought about the different bad things that could happen then. It's only now I realize how lucky I was nothing bad happened, and how I should probably be a lot more careful in the future.

But it's this new worry, this new stress, this new over protective feeling I have over Momma and Mel now that sometimes can keep me awake at night. Not long after I got back home, I either developed, or had reawaken this feeling to make sure that they were both taken care of at all times. Part of me wanted to keep them at the house at all times so I could keep an eye on them and make sure that they were okay; and every time they stepped outside to go to work, I was so sure that they were going to get in some kind of horrific car accident and I'd get a phone call to come down to the hospital.

It's these thoughts that constantly swirl around in my head, and I think to myself, if I just keep thinking about it, then nothing bad will happen. It's always when you're not thinking about it, when you least expect something, is when all of the bad things imaginable happen. So I keep torturing myself and thinking of every worst case scenario, to make sure that that particular day isn't the day I dread the most.

I'm more worried about Mel, though, and am always making sure that she's taken care of. After I left, I didn't realize how much of an impact it would have on her. I was her best friend and we did everything together, but after I was gone, she was bound to the house and has since developed her own group of "work friends" that I despise and am positive are getting her into hard drugs (even though Mel is the complete opposite of me as far as rebellion goes and can barely stomach a Smirnoff Ice, let alone do a line of coke). I've never met her friends, but I don't trust them. The Big Sister Instinct comes out, and whenever she leaves the house to go hang out with them, I'm glued to the house phone in case she calls needing me to come pick her up from a house party gone wrong, and give her a ride back home.

Just a couple of weeks ago she went out to a club in DC with one of her work friends that I hate the most, and I couldn't sleep properly. I imagined her being peer pressured into drinking until she couldn't control herself and then taken advantage of by some strange man with greasy hair and a dodgy mustache. I instinctively woke up at five o'clock to make sure she was back home, and there she was in bed, sound asleep. She appeared to be fine, and after my interrogation the next morning, I was positive nothing bad happened, and it was just a typical night out.

I hate that I constantly worry about them like this. I hate that I imagine horrible things happening and wondering if I'd be able to handle it. I hate that there's this guilt that has come out of nowhere and now I feel like I should make up for the time that I was away. I know they're both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves (obviously Momma has been taking care of herself for a very long time now), but now that I'm back I feel like I should be the one taking care of them. Maybe it's a way of me saying, "thanks" for letting me go off to find myself and supporting me for three years. Or maybe it's a way of me saying that I'm crazy and need to learn how to let them do their own things. Bad things happen, and me constantly stressing about it won't help. I know this, and yet I still worry, I still think about it, and I still believe that I'll be more prepared for when the inevitable happens.

On a day like today with the mugginess, I remember when Jon and Helz were here and we spent nearly two glorious weeks being American together and I proudly showed them around all of Northern Virginia. This is my state. This is where I live. This is where I know the back roads and try to maneuver my way out of traffic when things tend to get backed up whenever there's the slightest disruption on the roads. This is me.

Only it's not me anymore, and I realized it last night when I was in bed staring up at the ceiling for nearly forty minutes before I decided to turn off my lamp. I'm not Sam from Virginia, I am simply Sam. I am a girl who is indecisive, constantly changing and retracing my steps because sometimes I get a little lost and don't know what to do.

Last night I got to thinking about all of those big Life Questions that I mentioned a couple of days ago, and thought I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be in this state of Virginia, or this state of mind. I'm tired of going round and round in circles wondering what it is that I want or don't want and teeter-tottering back and forth between everything. So I came up with a simple list of What I Do and What I Don't want.

I do want to be home and near family. I'm glad I came back to be closer to Momma and Mel, and now that I've been back for a couple of months I really see how much they need me, just as much as I need them. My sister needs me, and part of me feels guilty for even leaving her in the first place. My mother needs me to help with my sister and I'm glad I can be here to help.

I don't want to be in Virginia anymore. As much as I love being back near family, this state just isn't for me. I thought I wanted to come back and get back into the government scene and be a kick ass admin again, but I really fucking don't. The only bad part is that I'm going to have to do it anyway now since I only have $65 to my name. At least for a little while.

I don't want to take this shit job that I've been offered earning (what I consider to be) pennies. I don't want to make their charts and graphs and do gay research for a contract that probably isn't going to last any longer than a year. But part of me already knows that I'm going to accept it, because it is a paycheck, and when you only have $65 to your name, and a debt of roughly $50,000.00, you'll take anything you can get. I tell myself that it'll only be temporary, and if something better comes along, I'll totally jump on it, but still the other half of me is screaming WASTE OF FUCKING TIME. DON'T EVEN BOTHER.

I do want to get into writing. I don't have any fucking idea how I'm going to do it, or if it'll actually manifest into something potential, but every day I'll give it a go and see where it takes me. I applied for an internship with another online blog/magazine and should have a phone interview set up for sometime next week. Obviously all of the work that I'll be putting in now will be unpaid (we all gotta pay our dues I suppose), but I don't care. I need the experience. I want the experience.

In time, I do want to move back to England permanently. The goal I've set for myself is about two years. I'm giving myself two years to work at crappy jobs here that I hate (hopefully paying much more than this shit company has offered me), save up ass loads of money, then apply for a work visa. I've already started getting emails ready for my "contacts" that I have over in London that I know will know how to help point me in the right direction of getting a job. My awesome recruiter, Tabitha, for starters who loves me and always got good feedback from me wants me to come back. And then there's my tutor from second year, Sarah Turvey, who was born in the states and has been living in England for the majority of her life. She'll definitely know all of the ins and outs of the red tape I'm sure I'm going to have to fight with.

I thought about all of that before I closed my eyes, and thought, "yes, that is exactly right." Before I left I was so naive, thinking that I knew everything about everything and had never experienced anything substantial, but certainly had an opinion about it. Work was work, money was money, friends were friends, family was family, and I never worried about anything else.

Then I went away and learned so much about myself, I can't even begin to try to explain it all. "Life changing experience" doesn't even chip away the corner of what happened to me. Those three years taught me more than the previous twenty years when I was in the states. And now I am more comfortable with myself and have cold hard experiences to back up all of my opinions now.

I know I had to leave. Even though every single day is tough because I miss everything I left behind, I know I needed to come back. For Momma and Mel, yes, but for myself. I was a fucking mess the day I left and mentally, I needed some time to cool off from the city that I liked to battle with. I had no stability, and I certainly didn't have any balance. But I had a life. It was my life that I could call my own, grab with both hands and do whatever I wanted to do with it. It was all mine.

I never really had a life in Virginia. I definitely don't have a life now. All I had back then was work, a little bit of money and the mall to visit every single Saturday buying up things that I'd probably throw away two months later.

Of course I say all of this now, but who knows what will happen within the next two years, hell, the next two weeks? Maybe I'll decide to move to Boston, or Texas, or New York (liked I said I would) and find a new happiness there. Maybe I'll find a dream job here and decide to live out the rest of my days in Virginia and laugh at this post that I've written when I'm much older. All I know at this very moment, though, is that when the time is right, and when I'm properly set up, I'm going to leave. And hopefully I'll finally be able to remain stationary, instead of rocking from one side to another.

Anyway, I was downstairs today and I couldn't be bothered to walk all the way upstairs to get my clothes. I decided to just hop straight into the shower knowing full well that I'd have to go back upstairs eventually to get some clean clothes. So I took my shower, dried off, blow dried my hair, brushed my teeth and put on deodorant all completely stark naked. Then I walked upstairs (still naked) to my room, put on some clean underwear and pajamas.

It was a different routine that I usually follow, and it felt daring. I was living outside of the box. Hell, I was completely defying the way that I live!

And it was amazing.

I thought I should do more crazy things. Maybe I could blog two days in a row? HOW INSANE WOULD THAT BE?!

Someone stop me now.

**

As I mentioned yesterday (and one time on twitter), I found a new, upcoming online magazine that has so graciously let me write for them. Granted, I've only written one article so far, but I've got another idea brewing for this week and I thought I should probably give this whole "writing" thing another go. For real this time. I should honestly think and act like how a real writer would do, like writing a little bit of something every day, regardless if it's truly revolutionary, or ultimately run-on sentences that make absolutely no sense whatsoever, or even have a point.

Hence the blogging two days in a row.

Not only do I have some articles I need to write every week for this new online magazine, I have some unfinished work that I need to get cracking on really soon (like, yesterday kind of soon), because before you know it, I'm going to be a part-time student again with two final projects that I need to whip together for a final grade so I can officially have a goddamn Bachelor's degree that I've been struggling on for the past three years. Honestly, I need to sort it out.

I've set up the desk, organized it, cleared off some space and am practically ready to go. Now all I have to do is stop watching movies on Mel's laptop through Netflix and actually do some bloody writing.

Write Sam, write Sam, write Sam, write Sam, write Sam, write Sam, write Sam, write Sam.......

One of the things I wrote on my first article that I sent in for the online magazine was talking about how a person should get to know themselves when they're unemployed (P.S. my article is called "10 Things to do When You're Unemployed - aside from look for jobs"). It's number six on my list of things to do. A person should sit and properly get to know themselves. You know, like ask themselves all of those really hard life questions that people eventually have to ask themselves at some point in time, and then make a decision. What are they passionate about? Did they really enjoy the last job they were at? Do they want to go traveling? What is it that you want to really do with your life? Waste it? Put it to good use?

I was writing it all and I thought, "fuck, I haven't even asked myself these questions." Here I am advising people to do it themselves, when I haven't even done it. That hardly seems fair.

So today I started asking myself some of the questions. What do I want to do with my life?

What an insane question! Who knows that answer? Well, I suppose some people know that answer. Perhaps some people have always known that they've wanted to cut people open, poke around on their insides and then sew them back together hoping that they make a full recovery. Or maybe some other people have always known that they are simply born to mix ingredients together and wow (!) people's taste buds with their edible works of art. I'm sure some people must know.

But I don't know. And I hate to say it. I know I'd like to write, but I don't know how to go about it. I know that I need a job for the time being to start collecting some money to sustain some kind of life that makes me feel more independent and less like a fourteen-year-old girl living in a small rural town listening to 3 Doors Down and thinking that their words mean something. And I know that all of these jobs that I'm applying for, I'm very much qualified to do, but it's certainly not a place I want to be stuck in for the next twenty years.

I know I want love. Don't laugh! It's cheesy, but it's true. I may always sound like some kind of commitment phobe that doesn't want to get emotionally close to someone because I'm scared of, well, commitment. But I'd like to find someone some day who knows that I speak in a baby voice to make people laugh when they're mad at me, and someone who knows I hate the lovey dovey shit out in public, but when it's just the two of us I'm just as corny as a Hallmark card.

I wonder if I'm doing the right things. I worry that someone may never hire me because I sweat when I'm nervous and make bad jokes about the weather. And I keep thinking that the reason why I'm still unemployed is because I'm wasting time looking for jobs that I'll end up hating (given enough time), and I'm not spending enough time doing what I should really be doing. What I'm meant to be doing.

It's just some things I've been thinking about before I have to go and pick my little sister up from her job.

"Why should we hire you?"

The first thing that comes to mind is, "geez, they really ask these questions in interviews? I thought it was just something for people to write about on the internet."

The second thing that comes into my head? Because I need the money.

Of course I don't say that. I say something along the lines of, "because I'm an excellent and hard working individual. I believe I can fulfill everything that you're seeking in an employee and will happily if given the chance to do so."

Something like that. Only I stutter and shake because I'm shit at interviews. I have come to the conclusion that interviewing with a company is just like dating, only with suits and much more forward questions that you're supposed to cleverly answer while believing in everything that you say. I am equally shit at dating, so there ya go. Unemployed and single. Awesome.

I've been on three interviews now, which I suppose is a good thing. At least I know my résumé isn't shit anymore. People are calling and asking me to come in to meet with them. Now my only problem is the actual talking portion of the process and I seem to be failing spectacularly at it. I mean, I once prided myself at being a fantastic conversationalist and now all I keep thinking the second I walk inside is, PRESSURE, PRESSURE, PRESSURE. MUST GET JOB SO I CAN PAY BILLS AND LIVE. I try to do research about the company beforehand so I can have something to talk about with them, or perhaps even ask some semi-educational questions towards the end, but nothing seems to stick in my brain. It's nothing but oil and water up there.

So I just go to these interviews thinking that I can wow (!) them by sitting pretty and smiling and hoping they don't ask me anything too hard.

Oh, the job market. It sure is hard to deal with these days. Surprisingly, I am dealing okay. After my first really sad breakdown, I've actually been upbeat, staying positive and moving forward. I've been applying for not just the administrative roles, but also some writing gigs that I find whenever I get tired of looking at all of the office jobs. So far I've managed to land one gig that is pretty flexible and I'll be able to show off the finished product once the website launches in September. It's so cool, I even have my own "About Me" section, with a picture and everything! How cool is that? Um, for someone who has absolutely zero writing experience, it's pretty damn cool. I've already written one article for them, and plan to write at least 1-2 articles every week about.....stuff. I have to think of the topics, but the point is I get to write about it without many limits.

And while Home Life can be pretty boring most of the time, and looking for jobs round the clock isn't the most stimulating of activities, I think I've gotten used to hanging out here on my lonesome. I just keep thinking that we'll have our own little baby running around soon (once he's old enough to leave his doggy mother), and then I won't be so lonesome. And that every day you never know who might call with a potential offer for....something. I've decided to take some good advice and enjoy unemployment life while it lasts. Once it's over with, it's finished, and who knows when I'll get another break? If anything, I should really take this time to stand in front of the mirror and rehearse some educated speeches for when I'm sitting across the table from another recruiter asking me why they should employ me.