I'll take "Irony" for a thousand, Alex...
Yep, once again, it's been a while since I posted, but honestly, I just haven't even thought about this damn thing...my mind has been my blog for the past 2 weeks, and I'm just glad it doesn't charge by the character, because I'd be owin' somebody a whole lotta dough...
I experienced something today I wasn't quite familiar with...because it's been such a GOD DAMN long time since I experienced it, I wasn't quite sure what it was. I had a "Hey, wait-a- minute...I-know-what-this-feeling-is, but-I-can't-remember-when-I-last-felt-this-feeling, so-I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-it, and-I'm-not-sure-if-it's-real-or-if-I'm-dreaming-or-if-I'm-completely-making-it-up-because-I've-officially-hit-bottom-and-I'm-at-the-hallucinating-part-of-craziness" kind of moment. Allow me to set the scene...
It's a sunny Wednesday morning, around 10am, 72 degrees (odd for an Upstate NY day in April)...I'm walking to my car on my way to a voiceover appointment, although I'm leaving an hour early because I've emptied my "spare change" jar into a zip-lock bag so I can bring it to the CoinStar machine at the grocery in order to change it in for cash to buy cigarettes (you see, I've already brought all my cans and bottles back the day before, in order to buy beer...I digress). I'm still filled with the week-long, non-stop anxiety that has plagued me since I got a job offer, contigient upon my passing a background check and drug/alcohol screening. I'm also filled with the "does he like me or not" feelings that come along with the start of a new "relationship" (I'll fill you in on that in a bit...), which adds to my constantly elevated blood pressure.
My cell phone rings, the caller ID says "Syracuse", and I know it's the prospective job. Now, being that for the past week, I've had dreams of them calling and saying "We're sorry Miss ____, but after an extensive investigation, we've found your driving record undesirable, your credit history deplorable, and you pissed out a gram and a half of pure cocaine. We wish you luck on your future endeavors", I debate for the first 3 rings whether I should answer it, or let it go to voicemail. In 7 seconds, I resolve that the message they would leave would be "It's so-and-so from Syracuse...could you please call me back as soon as possible" and that THAT message would simply drive me over the already jagged edge, as I wouldn't know if it was a "good" call me back or a "bad" call me back. So, throwing caution (and my 1/2 smoked cigarette) to the wind, I open my phone. In the sweetest voice I can conjure..."Hello...?"
Low and behold, I hear something to the tune of "I'm sorry it's taken so long...we anticipated getting all the information back sooner..." at which point I'm sure I have a mini-stroke. "Did it take longer than normal because they found something bad? Was I in a room with some pot-smokers a month ago and it showed up in my pee? Did they reconsider hiring a chick with a fucking RADIO background??? Did I have something in my teeth during the interview that groosed them out???" "That's no problem...how are you doing today?" I stutter out. Yada yada yada, they want me to start on Friday. My self-inflicted panic attack that has lasted exactly 168 hours has diminished to a dull roar of "what the fuck?!?!". Holy shit, I've got a job.
I jump in the car, smiling. SMILING. Huh??? It's been a while. I instantly text the first person I want to share my joy with...the new boy in my life (I later find out that since he was traveling through the mountains with no cell reception, my "I got the job, dinner's on me" offer was never received and therefore, not only futile, but much less "cute"...). Then, the list of calls begins. Dad. Mom (who's cell also sucks, and since she can only hear every other word, she assumes I've been in a firey crash...I clear that up later). Grandma. Brother. Brother's girlfriend. Random friends I've tortured for the past week with "Jesus, they're gonna find something bad on me, I just know it. I'm doomed. I'm gonna have to move back home"...to which I've received the same response: "Would you shut the fuck up?? You've got the job, asshole!"
I redeem my spare change to the tune of about 16 bucks. Since I've been living hand to mouth for six months, thats the equivalent of like $700 to me. I get the smokes, head to my voiceover appointment, still smiling. WHAT IS THIS SMILING THING???
At the appointment, I'm George Costanza. I tell my producer "Dude, this is weird, somethin's not right. God won't let me be this happy...I've now got a boyfriend, a job, and I just got a check in the mail I wasn't expecting for another month. Things are actually going WELL for me. I'm...happy." She says, wisely as always, "well then, I guess there is no God...because it's happening, so just shut up, enjoy it, and re-do the 3rd line from the bottom...it was a little breathy."
Oh yea, the boy...well, I guess I can save the details of how we started this weird dating scenerio for another post (it's really too cute of a story for this somewhat cynical post...), but basically, it's great. It's weird. It's stilly. It's totally giving me those 7th grade feelings...like those you got when you're walking down the hall to Spanish class and the boy you like has coincidentally stopped to get something out of his locker at the very same time he knows full well you're headed to room 203, and you have exactly 24 seconds, or about 52 steps, to make a mental checklist of "Do I have shit in my braces/Did I cover up that zit on my nose/Do I look fat in these jeans/Did I Aqua-Net enough to sustain the breeze/Are my shoes cute/Should I even look at him".
At any rate, its been fun...having someone I'm interested in actually be interested in me at the same time. Holding hands in public. Involuntarily rubbing his back while we're standing in line at the movies, and when I stop, thinking "ok, you're probably embarrassing him", he says "don't stop!" Chasing my thoughts away as soon as they go anywhere near "the future" for fear of another let-down. Being cautious with my feelings, but at the same time, not giving a fuck about "what if" and thinking for a second, "right now". Fucked up right?
So, there's a new man in my life, a new job starting in 48 hours, summer weather on it's way, and there's PROBABLY enough cash in my bank account to actually make rent on time. While most people would say "Hey...things are starting to turn around for me...This is great!!!" and use positive enthusiasm in an effort to continue the greatness that's blessed them, I, in a perpetual state of "things just don't ever work out for me" kind of mentality, simply do not know how to handle this. It's not that I'm just playing the victim...I HAVE been the victim...for a long fucking time, regardless of how positive I've tried to be. Do I take this new lease on life as a confirmation that 30 really IS the new 20? Do I throw caution (and my 1/2 smoked cigarette) to the wind and say "Hey, life really isn't that bad anymore!" and expect nothing but more great things??? Jeez...that just sounds WAY too risky. I know it's probably cliche and a bit childish, but I've always held that if you "expect the worst, you'll never be disappointed". Maybe there's some way to do both...continue to expect the worst, but pretend that I'm not. Hmmm...
Its now 4am, and that horrible yet addictive show "Blind Date" is on...I'm thinkin I can probably down 3 more beers before I'm officially "out". Damn you Roger Lodge, I just can't get enough of your quirky comments and those little blurbs you put on the screen during the blind date.
Great, now I'm wondering if there's a DVD set of a show that's only on at 4am on UPN.
How about "Drunken Thoughts" for $500, Alex?
I experienced something today I wasn't quite familiar with...because it's been such a GOD DAMN long time since I experienced it, I wasn't quite sure what it was. I had a "Hey, wait-a- minute...I-know-what-this-feeling-is, but-I-can't-remember-when-I-last-felt-this-feeling, so-I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-it, and-I'm-not-sure-if-it's-real-or-if-I'm-dreaming-or-if-I'm-completely-making-it-up-because-I've-officially-hit-bottom-and-I'm-at-the-hallucinating-part-of-craziness" kind of moment. Allow me to set the scene...
It's a sunny Wednesday morning, around 10am, 72 degrees (odd for an Upstate NY day in April)...I'm walking to my car on my way to a voiceover appointment, although I'm leaving an hour early because I've emptied my "spare change" jar into a zip-lock bag so I can bring it to the CoinStar machine at the grocery in order to change it in for cash to buy cigarettes (you see, I've already brought all my cans and bottles back the day before, in order to buy beer...I digress). I'm still filled with the week-long, non-stop anxiety that has plagued me since I got a job offer, contigient upon my passing a background check and drug/alcohol screening. I'm also filled with the "does he like me or not" feelings that come along with the start of a new "relationship" (I'll fill you in on that in a bit...), which adds to my constantly elevated blood pressure.
My cell phone rings, the caller ID says "Syracuse", and I know it's the prospective job. Now, being that for the past week, I've had dreams of them calling and saying "We're sorry Miss ____, but after an extensive investigation, we've found your driving record undesirable, your credit history deplorable, and you pissed out a gram and a half of pure cocaine. We wish you luck on your future endeavors", I debate for the first 3 rings whether I should answer it, or let it go to voicemail. In 7 seconds, I resolve that the message they would leave would be "It's so-and-so from Syracuse...could you please call me back as soon as possible" and that THAT message would simply drive me over the already jagged edge, as I wouldn't know if it was a "good" call me back or a "bad" call me back. So, throwing caution (and my 1/2 smoked cigarette) to the wind, I open my phone. In the sweetest voice I can conjure..."Hello...?"
Low and behold, I hear something to the tune of "I'm sorry it's taken so long...we anticipated getting all the information back sooner..." at which point I'm sure I have a mini-stroke. "Did it take longer than normal because they found something bad? Was I in a room with some pot-smokers a month ago and it showed up in my pee? Did they reconsider hiring a chick with a fucking RADIO background??? Did I have something in my teeth during the interview that groosed them out???" "That's no problem...how are you doing today?" I stutter out. Yada yada yada, they want me to start on Friday. My self-inflicted panic attack that has lasted exactly 168 hours has diminished to a dull roar of "what the fuck?!?!". Holy shit, I've got a job.
I jump in the car, smiling. SMILING. Huh??? It's been a while. I instantly text the first person I want to share my joy with...the new boy in my life (I later find out that since he was traveling through the mountains with no cell reception, my "I got the job, dinner's on me" offer was never received and therefore, not only futile, but much less "cute"...). Then, the list of calls begins. Dad. Mom (who's cell also sucks, and since she can only hear every other word, she assumes I've been in a firey crash...I clear that up later). Grandma. Brother. Brother's girlfriend. Random friends I've tortured for the past week with "Jesus, they're gonna find something bad on me, I just know it. I'm doomed. I'm gonna have to move back home"...to which I've received the same response: "Would you shut the fuck up?? You've got the job, asshole!"
I redeem my spare change to the tune of about 16 bucks. Since I've been living hand to mouth for six months, thats the equivalent of like $700 to me. I get the smokes, head to my voiceover appointment, still smiling. WHAT IS THIS SMILING THING???
At the appointment, I'm George Costanza. I tell my producer "Dude, this is weird, somethin's not right. God won't let me be this happy...I've now got a boyfriend, a job, and I just got a check in the mail I wasn't expecting for another month. Things are actually going WELL for me. I'm...happy." She says, wisely as always, "well then, I guess there is no God...because it's happening, so just shut up, enjoy it, and re-do the 3rd line from the bottom...it was a little breathy."
Oh yea, the boy...well, I guess I can save the details of how we started this weird dating scenerio for another post (it's really too cute of a story for this somewhat cynical post...), but basically, it's great. It's weird. It's stilly. It's totally giving me those 7th grade feelings...like those you got when you're walking down the hall to Spanish class and the boy you like has coincidentally stopped to get something out of his locker at the very same time he knows full well you're headed to room 203, and you have exactly 24 seconds, or about 52 steps, to make a mental checklist of "Do I have shit in my braces/Did I cover up that zit on my nose/Do I look fat in these jeans/Did I Aqua-Net enough to sustain the breeze/Are my shoes cute/Should I even look at him".
At any rate, its been fun...having someone I'm interested in actually be interested in me at the same time. Holding hands in public. Involuntarily rubbing his back while we're standing in line at the movies, and when I stop, thinking "ok, you're probably embarrassing him", he says "don't stop!" Chasing my thoughts away as soon as they go anywhere near "the future" for fear of another let-down. Being cautious with my feelings, but at the same time, not giving a fuck about "what if" and thinking for a second, "right now". Fucked up right?
So, there's a new man in my life, a new job starting in 48 hours, summer weather on it's way, and there's PROBABLY enough cash in my bank account to actually make rent on time. While most people would say "Hey...things are starting to turn around for me...This is great!!!" and use positive enthusiasm in an effort to continue the greatness that's blessed them, I, in a perpetual state of "things just don't ever work out for me" kind of mentality, simply do not know how to handle this. It's not that I'm just playing the victim...I HAVE been the victim...for a long fucking time, regardless of how positive I've tried to be. Do I take this new lease on life as a confirmation that 30 really IS the new 20? Do I throw caution (and my 1/2 smoked cigarette) to the wind and say "Hey, life really isn't that bad anymore!" and expect nothing but more great things??? Jeez...that just sounds WAY too risky. I know it's probably cliche and a bit childish, but I've always held that if you "expect the worst, you'll never be disappointed". Maybe there's some way to do both...continue to expect the worst, but pretend that I'm not. Hmmm...
Its now 4am, and that horrible yet addictive show "Blind Date" is on...I'm thinkin I can probably down 3 more beers before I'm officially "out". Damn you Roger Lodge, I just can't get enough of your quirky comments and those little blurbs you put on the screen during the blind date.
Great, now I'm wondering if there's a DVD set of a show that's only on at 4am on UPN.
How about "Drunken Thoughts" for $500, Alex?
posted by Elle Dee at 6:04 AM
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