So itís August and Iím still living in Atlanta. Did I ever say I moved to Atlanta? I did. Now you know so update your mailing lists accordingly.
As of last week, I officially have been at my job a year. That really means nothing, but thought I would announce it just the same. Itís a boring job not too much different from any boring job I have had since starting this diary. I used to worry about how boring my jobs were and how little I had to do every day to earn a paycheck. Now I just do my average 15 minutes of actual work a day and spend the rest trying to find the cheapest shoes on eBay and putting bracelets together. My company is one of those worldwide companies with people everywhere. Now that I have my one year in, I have applied for transfers to New Mexico, California, Colorado, Florida, Minnesota and Hawaii. Any of those places would be fun for a year. Not that the jobs are just for a year, but I really donít like to plan my life more than a year ahead. They were doing layoffs at my job and I was really, really hoping I would be one of the laid off people. I pictured lazy summer days of watching reality tv, eating Cheetos, and waiting for the unemployment checks roll in. Sadly my job is safe.
I bought a new car. My old car had many problems, all of which I was willing to live with. It died every time you put it in reverse due to an undiagnosable disease. A dealership, two independent mechanics, and a guy named Frank were unable to fix it. Sometimes it died in drive although less rarely. It died when going over speed bumps at high or low speed. Sometimes it wouldnít start in park, but usually agreed to give it a try in neutral. Things kept falling off Ė like mirrors, knobs, and bumpers - but I figured the lighter it got, the better the gas mileage would be. It made funny noises and smelled even funnier when the air conditioner was on. It was ok though, my car was quirky. Who doesnít love a quirky car? I sure did. However when I went to go get my stupid emissions inspection, I failed (damn you to hell Service Engine Soon light). Something about seeing the word FAILED stamped in red on a piece of paper pushed me over the edge. An hour and a half later I had a new used car. Itís not my dream car, but it was the car closest to the door at the dealership. Itís white and has a radio. Good enough, sold. I wish they would have put a big red bow on it. I always wanted to be one of those teenagers that got the shiny new car with the big red bow on their 16th birthday. Instead I had to work over a year slicing deli meat at the Piggly Wiggly to buy a 1979 Toyota with 124,000 miles on it. Oh and I got a parakeet for my 16th birthday. Like a real chirping, pooping, picking lice off of itself all day, useless parakeet. So close to getting the car with the big red bow. So so close.
I am still making jewelry. I know, thrilling. Iíve had lots of successful shows and I had one over the top successful show in June in Pittsburgh and I made $11,000 in 3 days. If the IRS is reading this though, forget that, I meant to say about $1,100. So Pittsburgh was a good show. Iíve had many other shows, although now when I make 3 or 4 grand in a weekend, itís not quite as exciting once youíve made 11 grand. I have a few more shows over the next weeks and months, although I would like to do more. I get rejected from shows quite often. It doesnít really hurt personally because who cares if some jury doesnít like my stuff, people are still buying it. But it does hurt financially which is way more painful. Not getting into the stupid show means I canít sell my stuff and that stings. Like being stung by a thousand angry bees shooting angry, stingy bee venom. At least I have my piles of cash from other shows to lessen the sting. I have been trying to decide how to invest my money instead of my 1.5% interest super saver savings account. I donít want to pay off my car (kiss my ass, Citibank) or student loans (suck it, Sallie Mae). I no longer want to buy a hamster (they smell funny). So instead I taking some of my money and buying myself a new nose, Iím pretty excited about that. Why have an IRA when I can have a less bumpy nose? Itís vain and shallow and I am perfectly fine with that. Hopefully it comes out ok since my plastic surgeon is very old. He had a nice office though and gave me free bottle water so I am sure it will come out quite nose shaped. Oh, he also called me sweetheart which I took as a good sign because my grandpa used to call me that. The doctor didnít seem too molesty either so I feel like I will be safe and relatively unviolated while under the anesthesia.
I moved into a friendís house. I have my own small room. I bought this stupid Japanese futon that I deemed the Futon of Disappointment. It was not comfortable at all although maybe that is because I am not a compact Japanese person, but instead a giant tall person of indeterminate heritage. It felt like sleeping on piles of lumpy sand which I know sounds fun, but in reality just leaves you with a disappointing, lumpy feeling. I donít know how I feel living in someone elseís house. I miss having my own apartment where I could do weird things, but I like how cheap it is to live here. Everything is included in my cheap monthly rent and I even have cable tv which I have not had in forever. I have been learning a lot about the world watching both HBO and Cinemax after dark shows, Hoarders, Sex Change Hospital, Ice Loves Coco and shows about grotesque and bizarre medical conditions (hello Man Without a Face, Woman with Giganto Legs and 600 lb Mom). The house is kind of far from my job though and I am a horrible driver so I have been looking for apartments online in a half-assed manner. I check reviews and look for keywords like mold, prostitutes, roaches, weird smell, crack den or unidentifiable carpet stains.
Iíve been babysitting as a side job. Multiple streams of income are important to create a raging river of money. I started babysitting for a coworker and then he told another coworker about how awesome I am as a babysitter and bam, another babysitting job. Unfortunately both of the babies are under a year old and to be honest, I find them so boring at that age. I have never gotten the appeal of babies. Toddlers I think are much fun, but babies, not so much. They canít really do anything. Though the boy baby keeps peeing on me when I change his diaper. I keep forgetting they do that. I researched online what the heck one is supposed to do with a 6 month old for entertainment and there isnít too much involved. Basically make sure it isnít crying, wet, hungry or sleepy. Oh and donít drop it or shake it.
The apartment I lived in Florida many years ago has been remodeled. This is of interest to possibly no one, but it makes me inexplicably sad. I guess I just always pictured myself moving back there someday and it being exactly the same. It had weird 1925 cabinets and this fold out table and bench in the kitchen. The bathroom had the original sink and these pink and black tiles. Now itís all new and the stove has been moved and there are new cabinets and tiles and a vanity and the windows actually look like they work and the crank handles wonít break off. Itís just not the same. I mean in all reality itís better, but still, itís not what I wanted it to stay. The version of myself that lived there was my favorite. I wasnít quite 30 yet and I had really nice hair most of that first year I lived there. I had a fun job and friends and I wasnít really worried about anything too big. I also had some really cute shoes and a beaded curtain separating the kitchen and living room painted with a dancing hula girl playing a ukulele.
That about caps off the past eight months. Mostly good, but some days I am left with a general feeling of unrest or maybe itís itchiness. Iíve tried combating these feelings with other feelings like spicy food and naps, but they persist. Maybe Iíll go buy my dog a fluffy dress and make her wear it around the neighborhood for my entertainment. Maybe Iíll move to Hawaii and overcome my fear of giant creepy bugs. Maybe Iíll eat more cheese. Probably Iíll just go home and stare at the altered after image of myself my plastic surgeon printed out for me. After me has such a nice straight nose.
2011-08-11 at 9:47 a.m.