Blog coming back to life?...

It is time to resuscitate the blog, now that I:

a) have enough time to write (sometimes),

b) have material about which to write, and

c) am starting to recognize that my ability to write is being wasted.

Those things being said, I have some things to post tonight, and I will try to continue posting with some regularity. Cheers!

I'm looking for housing in Austin... I found a bunch of crazy people instead.

My impending move to Austin has me a little nervous about my ability to find an apartment. I have, thus, turned to the internet to look at places ahead of time. Rent.com sends me spam. Apartments.com has archaic quotes for rent (one place had rents listed $200 below their current rates). Property management companies' web sites would have me believe I will be living on an oasis near every interesting hangout and happening in the Austin area with washer/dryer included for a mere $475/month.

Craigslist.org has dozens of insane people looking to do one of two things: a) sell me their product/web site/house or b) make me their roommate. The responses inspired enough roaring laughter and incredulity among my friends and family that I thought them worthy to share with you. Names/e-mail addresses have been removed in order to protect the mentally impaired.


<***********@hotmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 12:14 PM

Hello,

We will have an opening in our house soon. There are a good mix of people living here. We are all into bicycles, I ride a 12 mile commute daily. We are 420 friendly, but it is not a main part of out day.
The house is just a mile or so from campus and has a couple of guys and a couple of girls. actually 4 guys and 2 girls. 3 people live in the house and the rest stay in tents in our nice little back yard that has a fire pit, rope ladder, and ping pong table. People have joked before that our backyard looks like a photo from an REI catalog.
The opening is in the second biggest room in the house and rent is around $300- $400 depending on how many tenters are here. Bills usually run $30-40. There is a house computer with internet, and high speed connection for the room.

We were wondering when you were wanting to move in somewhere, and if this living situation would be good for you. Everyone at the house is laid back and although we party sometimes, the house is generally quiet. We are into making kombucha, yogurt, people sew here, most everyone plays piano, and we have one (1) small cat named Bones. I personally am allergic to most cats but this one doesn't seem to bother me. I really prefer dogs, but am at a point in my life where I will most likely be moving and traveling quite a bit in the next few years so... no dog.


If this sounds interesting to you we can set up a meeting.
Cheers,

M***
p.s. The house is having some changes as a couple of people are moving (hence the room).]

Maybe they keep the cost of bills down by having community showers with the garden hose in the backyard?
definition of kombucha from dictionary.com: (kŏm'bōō'chä')
n. A lightly sparkling beverage made by fermenting black or green tea and sugar a culture of various bacteria and yeasts.

from <**************@gmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 11:26 AM
subject Re: Apartment Needed for End of August
mailed-by gmail.com

let he have you number I have something I think you would be intrested in.

This was all the e-mail said. He/she didn't tell me anything about who they are, what/where this place is, or their contact information, yet I'm supposed to deliver my phone number?

<***************@gmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 7:54 AM
subject regarding your ad on craigslist
mailed-by gmail.com
signed-by gmail.com

Greetings,
I happened to realize that your looking for a tennancy via craigs list. I realised I may as well shoot you an email when I had the idea, since I have been up to a great amount of of toing and froing over the past few months, [about 5] pack ups, and have attempted going for a place on craigs list with not even any result. I recommend you have a look at this site http://***********.**********.com

Another guy actually recommended the site, when I had no success on craigs list and 3 other sites, so now im doing the kind deed : D The company have absolutely helped me the last 3 occassions when I have been finding a new place, and have an excellent amount to choose from, if you simply copy the site's steps.

Really hope it helps at least,
*****

This was clearly a scam, or at least someone trying to sell a web site. What struck me about it was its grammatically awkward writing.

There were a few others from people wanting me to work for their oil companies for free housing or wanting me to pay to live in their homes while they were apparently in Nigeria. The catch? They also wanted me to fill out every single detail about myself and my life over the past few years in good faith.

Here's one guy who wants me to be his "payment representative" and stay at his place while he is in London. I get the distinct impression there would be drugs involved:

********* *******
<*********@gmail.com>reply-to*********@gmail.com
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 10, 2009 at 3:35 PM
subject APARTMENT IN AUSTIN
mailed-by gmail.com

Hello,
I reside and owned a two bedroom apartment in Austin but i am presently in London with my family on an official trip. Am using this opportunity to inform you that i have a vacant furnished two bedroom apartment with all amenities including internet facility.Am looking for someone that can take care of the apartment on my behalf without paying any rental fee but who will in turn serve as my payment representative in Austin because i majorly deals in art work which i am presently in London on an official trip to exhibit some of my art works for my clients in London.You can contact me if you are interested in this offer in other for me to send you the apartment information as well as the job description.

Sweet! Just what I always wanted - to a) be a drug dealer, b) give all of my personal and financial information to someone I don't know who resides in Nigeria but has internet access, c) be a hippie living in a commune, or d) give out my phone number to creepy dudes on the internet.

The devil's own coffee.

Starbucks SKU # 666 corresponds to one pound of Italian Roast.

I found this particularly interesting for a few reasons:

-Italian Roast is one of our more darkly roasted coffees. In other words, the beans spend more time in the fire. Fitting for one whose time is spent in the vast pits of flames believed to fill Hell.
-Dante Alighieri, whose personal interpretation of the devil, as shared in his Inferno, is a commonly accepted portrait of the one called Satan, was Italian. Florentine, to be exact.
-Rome, the seat of the Pope and the heart of Catholicism as well as Christianity, is in Italy. I need not elaborate on this irony.

These are all of the connections I can make at this time. Italian Roast being a coffee of high intensity, intricate boldness, and decadent sweetness (compared to the smokiness of French Roast), it seems an appropriate choice for Lucifer.

Life lessons: red, red wine.

Saturday night, I pulled out the Casillero Del Diablo wine I bought from Blanchard's. The Cabernet Sauvignon was a good buy - about $10 if I remember correctly, and flavorful without being overwhelming, full-bodied without being punchy, with a light oak background. For my first foray into the world of Chilean wine, I was quite pleased.

So anyway, Saturday night, I'm in bed, reading and drinking a glass of red wine. I guess I fell asleep at some point, but in the throes of some nightmare, I seized while waking up and knocked the glass of red wine off of my bedside table and into my bed. All over my favorite sheets that I've had since freshman year of college.

If that doesn't wake you up fast, I don't know what will.

In a 4 AM stupor, I somehow realized that the best course of action was to get the sheets off of my bed as soon as possible and get them into the washer. I would have liked to let them soak all night, but 30 minutes was the maximum. So I soaked them with Tide, then ran a full washing load a few hours later. I was quite pleased with myself when I pulled the sheets from the machine and they were almost completely free of stains.

I was not so pleased with myself, however, when I glanced into the full-length mirror on my bedroom door on my way to take a shower before work. In case you were not aware, red wine stains your skin, and considering I was laying on my back when the glass spilled all over the bed, I now bore purplish stains that literally covered the entire back side of my body, from my neck to my calves. The shower I took then didn't help, and it took several more to get all of the stains off.

So if you do happen to take an accidental bath in red wine, get any clothes or sheets directly into the washing machine... and remember to at least rinse yourself off.

This part of my life is called working harder.

In hot pursuit of happiness, I have made a choice that is... there's no other way to say this: ballsy. I hardly even recognize myself because I don't usually do things this ballsy. Inspired by the ballsy nature of the decision, I very nearly - on the spot - called a guy in whom I am interested to ask him out. I was hindered by the fact that I deleted his phone number from my phone some weeks ago.

So, what is this happiness I am pursuing? How do I personally define it? Happiness is different for everyone, I think. If I'm going to be putting serious effort into capturing it, making it mine, I sure as hell had better know what it looks and feels like, so I have a target. It looks like madness, with a method, always. It feels like my heart swelling with all things good in appropriate amounts. It is a pancake breakfast filled with laughter with my roommates. It is working hard, but not excessively. It is a smile that shows in my eyes. It is a cute dog on a leash that I hold. It is waves crashing on a beach while I watch from the warm sand. It is a hot cup of quality coffee early in the day. It is a college degree in my hands. It is enough money in my bank account so that I don't have to worry too much about bills. It is a job I enjoy that puts that money in my bank account. It is reaching my dreams in this lifetime. It is me, in Texas. It is a hug from my mother.

How do I get there from here? Well, to start, I need to be saving money. A lot of it. Money doesn't buy you happiness, but unfortunately, happiness does cost money. College degrees aren't cheap, and neither is moving across the country. Can I make it in Boston? Yes. I am not homeless, not hungry, and not insane. Do I want to be here that much longer? No. I am a Texan to the core, and it's difficult for me to be in a place like this. I don't know how long it will take me to get out of here - it could be 9 months, it could be a couple of years - but this decision should accelerate the process.

This is going to be the hardest I've ever worked. Harder than this past fall, when I averaged 60-65 hours a week. Harder than almost two years ago, when I averaged 75-80 hours a week. Harder than full-time school on top of full-time work. This is full-time work, on top of full-time work, with intensive training. In order to excel at both places, I will be doing homework and research whenever I'm not at work. Oh, and I still have to eat, sleep, wash my clothes, and run errands.

If this all goes through, and I hope it does, I have a couple of weeks to get organized. This basically means that I need to get my eating habits under control - so actually eating every now and then - and get my room together, organized, clean. Get my bed put together. Get my desk properly set up to accommodate plenty of books, papers, and whatever else applies. I need to cultivate habits to encourage consistent patterns of taking good care of myself without having the time to think about it. I need to set a schedule for myself. I need to actually use the planner I got.

I do love to work hard. When I don't take good care of myself, I can't work hard. I'm kind of taking a big risk here. It's a big investment of time and energy. I'm going to have to work hard just to set myself up for success well enough so that I can get up every day to bust my own ass. So I guess this part of my life is called working harder.

Positivity.

When did I get so serious? Not to mention so depressed, and so depressing... The more I read over that last post, the more I realize I am being torn apart by the conditions of my life. I used to be so happy. Anyway... I'm going to try and focus on the positive things in my life. I used to be so good at keeping myself happy. So, a list of things that make me happy, even here:

-The first sip of the first cup of hot coffee each day.
-Having sand in my shoes.
-Absolute silence on the Cape.
-The combined smells of my shampoo, conditioner, face wash, and body wash.
-Gorgeous fall foliage.
-Crawling into bed between freshly laundered sheets.
-8:16 AM, my favorite time of day.
-Bad, and I mean awful, jokes. Puns.
-Running in Brookline.
-Pirates.
-My hair.
-Cooking something new.
-Smiles from strangers.
-Watching clouds and stars through the skylight over my bed.
-Hearing my phone start playing John Mayer's "Daughters" - which means a family member is calling.
-The moment when I put on my tie and my black apron each day, and clip a Sharpie to the top of my apron.
-The smell of my freshly baked brownies.

Misery loves company.

The manager I was working with tonight at Chipotle let it slip that I get moody starting between 7 and 8 PM and stay that way for the rest of the night. He said all of the managers had noticed it (no one had said anything to me), and while I had also noticed I am more and more frustrated starting around then lasting through close, it is moderately embarrassing that everyone has noticed it, talked about it behind my back, and refused to say anything to my face.

7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.

So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.

Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?

What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.

I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.