In Which I Have Decided What Things Can Do

...mostly suck burlap sacks of cocks.

I have applied everywhere because nobody loves the smell of desperation more than potential employers.

I applied to the Apple store this morning. I have NOWHERE to go but up. Steve jobs for everyone!

Where are all the entry-level publishing industry jobs? Fuck you and the horse with 8-10 years of experience you want to ride in on.

I feel a book inside of me (not literally, that's gross), but the only problem is I like eating food regularly. And not smelling like a hobo. I want to write, but how is that going to happen when I will need to live while writing said book? Rents will need to be paid, ditto bills, food will need to be purchased and consumed, not to mention I will need to get the fuck out of the place I pay to stay...

I have also applied to Northwestern University for employment, and I am currently in the process of applying to DePaul. Only time will tell.

I better be good enough for someone with money to pay me. Oh, this Independence Daze.

I must slow down on some things before I kill myself.

Its okay for the first to be the last. Its only forever. Wedding shows are the devil, and don't you ever forget it.

Hopefully I can get to Jonesville and straighten some things out this weekend. I've been thinking...okay thinking sounds bad...but wondering about some things.

But damn, I look good today.

In Which I Probaly Watch Way Too Much Television For My Own Good

I kind of dug myself out of my shame spiral. I haven't cried once this week and even got off my ass and applied for a few jobs (somewhere between 5-8, which is quite a few, but the Americorps website makes it easy). So needless to say things are looking up. I'm keeping my expectations low, but my spirits high, and that's all anyone can ask for at this point.

I unexpectedly got to see Matt a lot last weekend. I wasn't planning on coming home, but my mom sensed I was low and I think she wanted to be nice to me. So I let her. But let's briefly talk about how my lady balls are huge.

Friday (the ballad of lady balls):
Get to the train station, only to discover that the train was 30-40 minutes late. Story of my life, no big thang. I decide to use this time to people watch and/or stare into oblivion. I notice this pretty girl sitting accross from me reading some sort of academic text. She's dusky-skinned, looks to be in her early twenties (22 at the most)and some sort of Asian. I have my headphones on just listening to my jams, anxiously minding my own. A man appraches her and speaks to her. He's tall, rocking the businessdude on vacation look, green button down long sleeve shirt and kakhi pants. He looks vaguely tanned as well. I can't hear what is said, only that he seems very friendly and innocuous enough. He's all up in her grill, and she's got the typical "um, whatever, okay, yeah" posture. I think my imagination got carried away, because I somehow established the pretense that they knew each other. I think nothing of it, and it's completely out of my mind when I board the train over an hour past our scheduled departure time.

The trip is fine. I read, I sleep, I read, I sleep, I stare into a different version of oblivion. But then we hit the Albion/Ann Arbor area. Some obnoxious fucktwat is having loud conversations on their phone, speaker setting engaged. The whole car can hear what he's saying. This is not pretty stuff. Some gems:

"Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby."

"I'm tryin' to spit game at these young girls, but they're not having it."

"Do you wanna fuck him, fuck me, or fuck us both? You wanna fuck us both?"

"When you pick me up, can we fuck in the cab?"

"I'm gonna go Dolomite on you!"

Shit like that. And that's just the stuff I can remember. Did I mention that this is a caucasian individual?

This is a caucasian individual.

So of course, its all I can do not to roll down the aisle in fits of laughter. At one point I look around and see if anyone else is as throughly amused as I am. I make eye contact with a girl that got on when I did, and we sit next to each other and just kind of go WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ONNNNNN? Apparently he was trying to hit on this girl, as well as the pretty Asian girl I saw at the station. Wait, so they don't know each other? Surpriiiiiiise! Apparently he has been awake for three days and stinks of liquor. Everything kind of returns to normal, but then he just starts yelling "WHERE ARE WE?" Someone answers him. Two seconds later, he yells the same question again. Obviously nobody wants to answer him, but finnaly he gets an answer: "Michigan". He laughs and proceeds to ask the question yet a third time, while yelling into his phone. At this point its not cute anymore (not that it ever really was). He's saying horrible things that make my inner raging Amazon feminist sharpen her tomahawk. At this point he's blocking the aisle, one arm or hand on each side of the hand grips. Keep all of this in mind.

An older man is trying to get past Drunky McSkeezeface. I guess he got a little too close, or Drunky touched him aggressively, but the older man tells the Assclown not to put his hands on him like that. So then this very, very, very, very quicky devolves into a shoving match. It looks like its about to get ugly fast. Someone alerts the conductors, while me and three beefy(ish) dudes try and break it up. Yes, your humble narrator got all up in a physical altercation. I am pulling at the old man and it took three other dudes to get them separated. The conductors do the kindergaten thing and put them at opposite ends of the car. This is not working. Fuckface von Assmonkey has now started yelling racial slurs at the older man. Mostly "sand nigger". So they have to put them in separate cars, all the while Drunky's yelling "he's the enemy! USA! USA! USA! Sand nigger" etc. He is told to sit down and be quiet. He does both, but only for seconds at a time. I finally tell him "dude, you're only making this harder for yourself." Again, this lasts all of several seconds before him and the conductor start yelling. He's still using slurs and the black lady conductor is not having that shit. So then his next argument is "What's Amtrak going to do, arrest me? Go ahead! Arrest me! Arrest me! Arrest me! Arest me!"

So they direct the passengers in the car to move to the next car over. His ass is getting arrested. I was told we were somewhere near Wayne. Fifteen minutes from my stop, we STOP THE DAMN TRAIN TO ARREST THIS FOOL. Not just escort him away, but some take witness statements and handcuffs arresting is going down.

I finally get into town, have dinner with Matt and his parents and nearly get caught in a tornado. Limbs everywhere, streetlights and stoplights blackened.

Further proof that wherever I go, disaster follows.

Saturday:
Grad party, Tory Story 3. I nearly cried at the latter. Fuck you too, Pixar.

Sunday:
returned with the Matts. Mad construction.

I guess that wasn't such a brief discussion of my cajones.

Aaaaaaand I still don't know what I'm doing this weekend. I think I'm going to pick Matt. Jill basically gave me her blessing, and when people do things that enable me to do what I want, I don't fight them.

I'll still send a congrats card.

Why is my bra still on?

Speaking of bras, my new guilty pleasure is The Real L Word. Please don't judge.

In Which My Glowing Red Eyes Strike Pity and Fear Into The Hearts of My Fellow Man.

Crying jag, day three. A brief overview, in case you missed it:

Got denied both the internship and the fellowship. Spiraled into a vortex of self-pity, shame, depression, and overall self-loathing. I have the pizza boxes and bottle of wine to prove it. I have feelings of impotence, angst, fear, inferiority, uselessness, and overall failure. I'm trying to make my way out of this vortex, but the pressure is too much.

Moral of the story, don't follow your dreams and always keep Visene in your purse. The whites of my eyes are whiteboard marker red. I have no way to explain this to anyone I encounter today. Maybe I can get away with contact irritation with a side of severe allergies.

Places I've cried in the last seven days:
- Brann's Steakhouse (in front of my friends)
- My Bedroom
- The Living Room
- The open pavilionish area at work (lots of stares)
- The Bathroom at work (where my boss walked in on me sniffling and trying not to hyperventilate)

Shit, there are too many witnesses.

Goddamn, I fucking hate crying. This shit's for pussies. And babies (a baby is a pussy that doesn't know it's a pussy). I'm just glad that I didn't wear any makeup to work today.

I tried to move on today though. I applied for two jobs and emailed the fellowship coordinator for pointers on how to be a stronger candidate. Nothing will come of the jobs, they're a touch out of my skill set, but I'm trying. That's gotta count for something.

I am not a pretty crier.

But on the upside, I think I'll be celebrating my birthday here

No more pussyfooting around. I thing a true and proper drastic hair change would do me a world of good. Either blonde bangs or a long pixie cut (a la one Miss Rihanna).

Either that or a tattoo.

Well Fuck.

"Thank you so much for applying for the 2010 Pritzker Fellowships. The quality of applicants was amazing and we are honored that you were among them.

I regret to inform you that you were not chosen as a finalist. The caliber of your application made this a very difficult decision.

We hope that you continue to pursue your dream of becoming a journalist and that you find great success in whatever it is that you do. We thank you for your interest in the Pritzker Fellowship Program."

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

In Which I Resume The Inbox/Telephone Staredown

I was supposed to know what was going on re: the ten months last week. I'm entering this week knowing exactly what I did last week. Well, I know a little more than I did last week. Now I know that I'm going to know when I'm going to know today. (That makes perfect sense, trust me.) I emailed the coordinator and she explained that there were some sceduling conflicts that were hindering everything from operating exactly on time. She said she's going to email everyone with more information today. The longer this drags out, the more anxious I get. I just want to know so I can make plans accordingly. If I don't get this, of course I'll be brutally devastated (to put it very mildly), but I'll get over it eventually. I wonder how big the candidate pool is. I just have to remember, everything is 50/50. It's going to happen, or it's not going to happen, there are no "chances".

Refresh, rinse, repeat.

I'm slightly socially retarded. I told Matt that I'd come visit him the weekend of the 25, but that's the weekend of Jill's graduation. Oops. I don't think I'd be invited to the ceremony, but I'm sure that I'd probably be invited to the family lunch after (like when I was graduating). I'm not sure what the proper thing to do is. Also lingering is the fact that I got invited to a birthday party that friday. The guest of honor is one of my oldest friends (over a decade). I'm not that worried about that, though. If I don't go to Chicago, I'd run home for this party friday and run back here saturday morning, hangover and all. What the hell is the socially acceptable thing to do? The logical solution would be to just see Matt the weekend before or after. The weekend before would be no good, that's father's day and of course he'll be with his family and shit. I'm selfish, I want to have as much "us time" as possible. I'll also be reminded of how I did not get pregnant in the last 28 days. Two strikes right there. The weekend after would be doable I guess, but in addition to being selfish, I am also immature. I want what I want when I want it. I could wait, but it will have been a full month since I've seen him. Damn, damn, damn.

No matter what, something will be decided for me.

I'm also offended that I've become one of those people with a planner. I like having one, which offends me even more.

The more I think about it, the more enamored I become with the notion of a pink ssapphire engagement ring. Not that I think about these things. Shh, don't tell.

I'm pretty sure my life is filmed in front of a live studio audience. That's no laugh track, that's everyone around me being amused.

I'm not sure I have a problem with this.

In Which I Get More Crying Done By 10 A.M. Than Most People Do All Day.

All hail the crying (weeping?) hangover. I was fine, getting my post-booze coma on and drooling into my pillow. My mom calls and removes me from said post-booze coma. Generally calls always lead to weeping, fighting or some sort of tense judgement, why should today be any different?

Don't worry, it didn't dissappoint.

Only my mother can tell me not to get my hopes up and then accuse me of being negative all in the same sentence/breath. (*cue "You Can't Win" from The Wiz*) Never mind that I am still without smokes (that part's kind of my fault, every time I've been presented with the oppertunity to replace them, I just haven't really been in the mood), I thought I was having an allergic reaction to something, but I think it might be stress hives, aaaaaaaaaaand I just got to sleep less than six hours ago.

It didn't help that after being one margarita in the bag yesterday with the girls I started crying in the middle of Brann's. Fucking embarassing shit. I hate crying. I hate public crying. That's not what I do. I get misty at the movies, but that's about it. The movies don't count though. It's dark and nobody's looking at me, unless I happen to sniffle a little too loudly or laugh at an "inappropriate" moment.

I'm pretty sure this is why I never get invited places. This is why we can't have nice things.

Same shit different day (suicide threats notwithstanding).

I might need a bagel.

Hot mess, party of one, your table is ready.

In Which I Am Hilarious.

(SCENE: INT. NIGHT. I sit on my bed in my room, watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Jill is sitting in her room, presumably on her bed, because I can't see her.)

Jill: The inside of my nose itches.
Me: Scratch it!
Jill: I can't! It's going to look like I'm picking my nose!
Me: Who's watching you, Google?

life is good.

In Which I Might Be Allergic To Falafel or Cheap Liquor

First of all, can I just say for the record how tight the record A Healthy Distrust by Sage Francis is? I forgot how much love I can have for a hip-hop record.

Up next on deck: Bad Religion's The Process Of Belief.

An update of Fellowship Watch 2010:

I've been presented with even more hope and an alternate timeline. Good news: it means a little more time for them to see how awesome I am. Bad news: I might not know until the 21st. I'll take it though. It's better than incessantly refreshing my inbox and waiting by my phone like a teenager.

Maybe its the stress, but I've got some really cute hives on my face. Here's to hoping that I just drank too much cranberry juice or ate too much falafel (which I have never tried before). They don't hurt or itch, they just look like Heller Keller could read that portion of my face if she got bored.

I should read and write more instead of staring into the electronic abyss.

Summer reading list:

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut (re-read)
Love is A Mix Tape - Rob Sheffield
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - Junot Diaz (also a re-read, but after getting a little perspective about the geography of the Dominican Republic, I think I need to)

To be read, but not in my possession: Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, mostly because I have until August to read it. August is when the movie comes out.

As I was stalking the film adaptation of Scott Pilgrim, I read that the actor who played Human Torch in the Fantastic Four franchise is going to not only be in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, but he is going to be Captain Flipping America in the Avengers Franchise, complete with his own movie. I have no idea how to feel. The Avengers has been pushed back (again) to 2012 (this is slowly becoming my Sin City 2 which is the new Chinese Democracy). But I understand Marvel studios has to have time to release all the other ones before they can release The Avengers, blah blah blah blah. I'm just not sure that the Captain America movie will do very well. Maybe its because I am so bored by the character, but it'll be interesting to see a little Hollywood sex appeal on him. It's exhausting being intrigued and bored all at once.

Yesterday was so weird. There were deus ex machina moments coming out of every orifice and I did my best to cope.

But I did bear witness to my conservative friend Keith take a shot out of a strange man's crotch. Oh, twenty-fifth birthdays....

yeah sure, I might do harm, and bear my right to arm.

This year is going to be the coolest.

"The finalists for the 2010 awards will be interviewed at Chicago Public Radio in May and the selected Pritzker Fellows will be announced the week of June 7th."

...does this mean I didn't get it?

I am so confused. The deadline was 5.14...what the shit?

Here's to hoping anyway?

In Which I Consider The Nature of Everything I Love

Blogger has been on the fritz all day, and this is my first opportunity to post. That made me hella anxious. I hear about the fellowship today, and I can safely say that my anxiety has been at average levels (even if I did drop a mostly full pack of cigarettes in a decently busy intersection and compensated with coffee). My inbox refreshing has been somewhere between casual and at worst, frequent. I am filled with optimistic numbness (where I don't know how to feel, but its not necessarily bad). I just don't want this to be a repeat of the TAL event all over again, where I paced my cage for two extra days and got all gross and emo. Nobody loves an emo kid.

I'd like to see Matt this weekend, but word on the street is that my old roommate/friend Jen will be up in Michigan from Mississippi this weekend. Since she's flying, I think its doubtful that she will be stopping here, but Jill says she will drive over to see her (Jen will probably stay on the east side with her family). I haven't seen Jen in about sixish months, and of course I really want to see her. I mean its not like I wouldn't be able to see Matt if we did get to hang out with Jen, but it's more a matter of wanting what I want when I want it, dammit. Three weeks is doable, but one and a half is better.

I listened to Take This To Your Grave by Fall Out Boy in its entirety today. Take from that what you will.

Aww Guster...Makes me want to dig up my copy of Lost And Gone Forever.

Let's hear it for festival season!

Either as a consolation or as a celebration, I will be getting either a new piercing or tattoo.

Mama needs a haircut. I am so close to breaking down and cutting it myself....maybe after another dye job.

Let's get tacos.

In Which I Require Hugs, Good Food, And A Nap.

"Please accept our apologies that this notice is going out a day late. A convergence of deadlines and a partial office brownout yesterday has us a bit behind.

We’re writing to thank you for applying to the This American Life internship, and to inform you that we’ve selected another candidate.
Please know that we were quite impressed with the candidate pool—we received hundreds of applications—and with everyone’s interest and enthusiasm. We very much enjoyed reading pitches, personal stories, and more.

Please keep in mind that there are other ways to contribute to This American Life, and for those of you itching to tell a particular story, please check out our submissions page here:



We’ve recently revamped that whole section, and worked very hard to offer guidance and examples of effective pitches, so don’t hesitate to spend some time looking it over, and if you feel certain you have something, send us a pitch!

Thanks again for your interest and for listening to the show.

All best,
The staff of This American Life"

...well fuck. Now everything's riding on this fellowship and that's a fucking terrifying feeling.

I'm also noticing that I'm using the phrase "fucking terrifying" a lot. Apparently I'm a big fat fucking fraidy cat.

Part of me is tempted to sneak off and do a couple shots while I'm here at work.

My iPod shuffle is trying to cheer me up and I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or if it makes me feel worse somehow.

If I still had a car, I'd drive around at unsafe speeds listening to unsafe music at unsafe volumes.

I feel like a partial failure right now but I know if I get denied this fellowship, I will feel like a fat, full blown failure.

Tonight will be a night of self pity and indulgence.

In Which My Anxiety Goes Into Overtime

"We have received your application for our fall internship. All applicants will be notified of our decision by June 1.

Thank you-

This American Life"

This is what the automatic email said that was sent on April 30, according to my email inbox.

Has June 1 not come and gone? Is it not the day after the first? I am also trying to respect their request that I follow the directions of:

"PLEASE DO NOT CONTACT THE TAL WEBSITE OR OUR OFFICES CONCERNING YOUR APPLICATION. We will automatically notify you of receipt and follow-up calls will be made to finalists in a timely fashion. All applicants will be notified of our decision by the dates listed above."

All appicants. All. Applicants. To me that means even the delusional semi alcoholic bitchfaces that tried really really hard on their application get a phone call or an email or something thanking them for their time and shit (apologies, I'm a touch hungover from the forgetting binge that I tried to make happen).

I've heard nothing and I keep feeling this strange mixture of hope and disappointment. Am I in? Am I not in? Are they notifying us by snail mail secretly? (extremely unlikely, but in in the face of no evidence to te contrary, all I have are possibilities.) Or will they just come for me in the night and take me with no warning? (I cannot begin to tell you how okay I would be with that latter option.)

I hate knowing hope is all I have. I hate being on someone else's timetable, at someonne else's mercy...but we already discussed this.

This even affects my music choices. I don't know whether to be Kanye cocky or Bright Eyes brooding. This is an epic amount of suck.

So as I wait, it's smoke, refresh, repeat.

This is worse than a late period. I only wish I could pee on a stick and a little piece of plastic would tell me if I suck at life or not.

Maybe some Doritos and Frasier would calm my nerves.

In Which I Need to Have One Cigarette and Hush

Today is D-Day part one, and of course I am having trouble breathing. I think its also the humidity. Today may not be the day to replenish my nicotine stash. Stay positive, stay positive, stay positive. I keep flirting with the notion of just showing up to work this afternoon buzzed and just maintaining until I know for sure. Ether that or make everyone watch as I get blitzed at roadhouse.

So Matt's been gone for less than a day, and I miss him already.This weekend was nice becauase of the extra time we got to spend together and we got to experience a bit of Kalamazoo for once. I can't wait until we can be in the same city/state/time zone (it doesn't take much to please me). However, that notion will prove to be interesting, mostly because that will be so new to me. I've: 1. never felt this way about anyone, ever, 2. always used the physical distance between myself and previous significant others to maintain my independence and also mantian a "safe distance", (even though I think I can overcome this by finding other ways to assert my indepencence and remembering that there's no such thing as safe distance, respectively) and 3. am excited and scared shitless.

...aaaand refresh the inbox.

I think I need a new futon matress. One that's less prone to lumps.

Or maybe I can just say fuck it and get a big kid bed.

What's the proper attire for a summertime interview?

And damn it all to heck if I still don't want a grilled hot dog.

Refresh.

Whoever's out there listening to me continuously vomit on mysself verbally, please send unparalelled vibes/thoughts/prayers of awesomeness.

Refresh.

Shower, smoke, bagel, work, drink, Glee, drink.

I'll quit drinking for a couple weeks starting next week. I will know everything by then and I will either have to celebrate or aim to forget.

Refresh.