Living...the dream?

I have taken the plunge. No, not that one.  The far less envy-inspiring, and much more nerve-racking plunge into unemployment.  It wasn't a heat-of-the-moment walk-out, although that may have been far more exhilarating.  No, this was a premeditated, four months in the making plan to quit my full-time job.  At some point this Spring it occurred to me that the majority of my co-workers were college-educated and had been working at the restaurant for nearly ten years. What was keeping them there was the same reason I had been there a year longer than I had planned: it was comfortable.  So while it may be everyone else's opinion that quitting a full-time, well paying job in 2012 was the dumbest idea ever, I can honestly say I'm excited about it.  Not excited in a sleep in 'til 10, watch daytime TV, and stuff my face around the clock kind of way.  To be honest, that's the last thing I want to do.  I'm excited about the idea of a job finally doing what I love. I'm excited about having a normal work day again.  I've been craving the nine-to-five, the early-morning commute, and the dress pants. (I've spent the last eighteen months in the same apron). But mostly, I've been craving the writing.  Sure, I still write everyday. It's fairly random, between blogging, fiction writing, and freelancing for newspapers.  But I miss the structure; the obligation to write; the consistency that comes with it. This is what I came here for; this is why I moved across the country.  At some point I forgot that...but I'm thrilled that it didn't take me ten years of serving food to remember.

Geary Street

Aright, I finally took some pictures of the apartment.  We still have some decorating to do in the living room and bedroom, but we're getting there.  As of right now there is nothing else interesting going on.  That's all I've got. 

 

 

 

 

The lighting makes everything in the bathroom look green... but it's all white. Except for the shower curtain...and the rug...and the stuff on the shelf. Half of it's green. 

 

And in case you've forgotten what we look like... 

We were really excited... and freezing. And missing everyone in MA terribly.

Major Procrastination

Today I had an interview with an online interactive magazine for a position as an editor.. and mid-conversation with the CEO I realized I haven't finished a single piece of fiction that I started writing.  I get an idea that I'm in love with and write for days on end-- sometimes weeks.  And then I get busy with other stuff, lose touch with what I'm writing about, and forget about it entirely.  Eventually I think of another idea and start the whole process all over again.  This is entirely irrelevant to the interview because it had nothing to do with fiction writing... but it was a frustrating reality check nonetheless.  I think I have the first third of about six very different novels written, and I wonder why I'm a full-time waitress.  Harsh, maybe. But seriously...

I remember reading about an author who set his alarm for like 7 AM every morning, got dressed, and went into his study as if it were a real work place, and stayed there for a full, uninterrupted eight-hour day.  It was like he was tricking himself into thinking his writing was a real paid job to discipline himself.  And it worked obviously, because he was a famous author.  Hence why I was learning about his lifestyle.  This would be way more informative if I could remember who I was talking about. Sorry.  My point is I would like to try that kind discipline.  Finishing a piece of work and being proud enough of it to share it with people would be an entirely new experience for me. 

On a completely different note, Aaron (is that the right pseudonym?) and I are almost done furnishing and decorating the apartment, and it's looking pretty good.  The walls are a weird texture so we're avoiding any painting/ wallpapering.  It's a small space with no room for big picture changes, but all things considered, I think we've done a pretty great job.  I'm excited to see what we can do with a bigger apartment that's more flexible to being customized.  HGTV has completely taken over my mind.  I keep saying I'll put up pictures and it has yet to be done. I haven't gotten the apartment clean enough to want to take pictures yet, but I promise, they're coming!!

Sore Thumb

I'm pretty sure it's impossible to turn heads in San Francisco.  Men dress in drag so tight you can see their ribs compressing. Homeless men and women scream at the imaginary people in front of them--sometimes so convincing I hope they have a Blue Tooth in their ear. There is no such thing as an extreme outfit.  I went shopping today downtown... and I realized after hours of shopping that I may have been the only person in the store wearing flared jeans and sneakers.  That's when it occurred to me that I might have been the person sticking out.  Tourist.  I'm looking at a jewelry rack thinking if I don't want a ring heavier and larger than my hand, my only option is a man's wedding band.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that my lack of flats, leggings, and clunky jewelry has me screaming 2005. Which doesn't sound very outdated... but it is.  This isn't my proclamation for change either... I didn't turn around and buy the $60 sweater that's already has that trendy moth-eaten look.  I'll stay in my high school time capsule.

Also, the Forever 21 and the H&M in San Fran have maternity sections.  There's a joke somewhere in there about being a mother and dressing like a young adult... Completely irrelevant, yes, but entirely worth mentioning nonetheless.

First Post from the West Coast!

It's been three days since I landed in San Francisco.  I had never been to California and really had no idea what to expect.  I still don't really know what to expect... I spent the first few days just exploring.  Tomorrow Aaron (abiding by my code-name promise) and I are spending almost the entire day apartment hunting all over the city.  We have about ten places lined up and I can't help but have really high hopes that we're going to find a place. To be honest, I have high hopes that we're going to find an insanely affordable all-inclusive newly remodeled two bedroom in the center of the city that's big enough to start hosting dance classes but.. I'm not very realistic.  Right now we're staying in a room within a family's home and don't have much personal space. 

It's nerve-racking and maybe in some people's opinions plain stupid to commit to an apartment without a job.  But it's kind of a chicken and the egg dilemma; it's hard to find a job without a space to spread out, too.  So I'm taking the risk and hoping one will closely follow the other.  I have an interview Monday at a high-end seafood restaurant-- I know I didn't move across the country for a waitress job, but it's a start--so... fingers crossed!  This would be a far more interesting post if I had pictures to accompany it but... the camera was one of the casualties in the stolen purse trauma, so blame the Dorchester thief for that downfall.  

I'll have way better, way more exciting news next time...

Two Weeks Too Late

I've been working at a college since I graduated, and what started out as a temp Summer job kept stretching, and now I've been here for 5 months.  The problem is that it's an administrative position doing the same thing that I did working through college.  In a word, it's busy work--stuff I could be doing with a $40,000 degree--and while I know I have to "pay my dues" and work my way up, there is no up here that leads where I want to be.  I also always had it in my mind that after I graduated college I would live in a state out of New England for a few years. And after the two-hour commute I had last night in a snow storm, I couldn't have picked a better time or place.

After the New Year, I'm moving to California.  I don't have a job or a place to live.  Just a plane ticket. Cue the motivational music.  So I gave my two-weeks notice so that my last day would be our last day before Christmas break.  I've been a hermit for the last month or so in an attempt to save every dime I have so that moving to California wouldn't be a financial plummet. Then last Thursday, my purse got stolen from my desk at work while I was helping another student.  New camera, glasses, licence, gift cards, credit card, ATM card, cash; GONE.  $500 withdrawn from my account.  Slim chance that I will not be reimbursed by the bank for the stolen money.  It's been five days and there is still smoke coming out of my ears.  My last day is in two days, and I'm doing everything I can think of to find who it was before I leave. 

So now I've ranted through my first two blogs... that's pretty good, right?

Blog Unenthusiast

So I have to start off by saying that I've been critical of the idea of blogging since I've known what blogging was.  As a journalism major in college, I was forced to blog from time to time for assignments, but it still never caught on with me.  And to be perfectly honest, it still hasn't really caught on.  So why am I here?  Again, I'm kind of being forced.  Intensely persuaded, maybe.  Applying to jobs as an English and Journalism graduate, I am always required to include several writing samples with my resume.  But I'm noticing more and more that they ask for a link to my blog as well.  And they ask for it like they're asking for my last name. Like of course I have a blog. So... TA-DA.  Here it is. Of course I have a blog. 

To get you on my page with the grudge I've held, here are my issues with blogs: First, that by writing one, you're being presumptuous--and a little cocky--in thinking that you're interesting enough for other people to consistently follow along with what you have to say.  Second, that it's impossible to write about your life without mentioning other people, and who is to say my friends and family want their personal life posted day to day without their permission?  I've always wondered how people who write columns and memoirs can write such gutsy details and name-drop without any reluctance or shame?  Then I read the "About the Author" and find out their mom died, they're estranged from their father and brother, and no longer keep in touch with their friends.  Frankly, I'm not willing to lose all my loves over a blog post, so I'll keep the juicy stories vague, and the names out of it.  You're welcome, ladies.  And also,  maybe this will be the motivation to actually be interesting enough to encourage a following.  Is that sad?

Alright, this wasn't so bad.  I'll be back.