Of course, some days you have to get through with some help, such as (several) healthy doses of ibuprofen and a cup of dark coffee with some hazelnut creamers. Some of the fault is my own, some of it is just organic chemistry that I have no control over. The coffee takes care of the former, the ibuprofen the latter.
So I decided to just screw worrying about sleeping--I get off at one, after all, so after I got off the second job of the day, I pedaled over to west Asheville in the dusk, foggy from the rain, the air sticking to my skin and water flecking my calves. The fog slowly burned off as the evening wore on, and I spent it on the porch with Raj and his brother, drinking dos equis while some determined cicada shouted in a nearby tree. It was pretty late by the time we finally wandered inside and headed for bed, and I wasn't asleep for at least another hour, up thinking about various things -- mainly Atlanta.
I discovered that Raj may not be able to get off work on Friday, thus not being able to drive down with me, thus resulting in me, driving down to Atlanta by myself. The thought is pretty terrifying, but it is out of my hands. What am I going to do, force him to come down with me? Hardly. I must live with faith that if he can't get off work, then the universe needs me to go by myself, or with my sister if she can get off. Either way, I'll figure it out. I'd just -- obviously -- like to not have to.
However, yesterday a number of things fell into place, not the least of which was my award letter from Columbia financial aid. I don't want to go into specifics, for a variety of reasons, but basically without a HUGE boost from Columbia, there would be no way that I'd be able to pay for my year abroad. My parents can't help me financially whatsoever, and I'm lucky to be able to save a couple thousand by the end of the summer. However, thanks to my aid advisor and the team over there, I am incredibly relieved and delighted to announce that I WILL be able to pay for at least most of the year. It was a huge, huge load off my shoulders and the shoulders of my parents, and has eased my mind considerably. I will probably have to take out a small student loan at some point, but for the moment things are looking pretty good.
Anyway, with all of that running around in my head, I got roughly four and a half hours of sleep, and then was awakened for a predawn ride up the Clingman hill to work. It was long before the heat, and actually fairly cool (until I started climbing of course), and I would probably have appreciated it much more if not for the waves of intense pain in my abdomen. Such is life. In any case, we were busy at work, and with twelve ounces of said dark roast with hazelnut creamers, I could have conquered the world (at least, as soon as the ibus kicked in).
Upon (finally) getting off, I hopped on the bike and came home and promptly crawled back into bed and slept for two solid hours. I woke up to a stunningly sunny Saturday afternoon, not really too hot for a change. Hilary is out at the Tourists, so I'm by myself for the evening, but equipped with a new book, courtesy of Hilary, and a computer with internet (did I mention it's fixed?!?!?!) and a subscription to MLB.TV, I think I'll be okay. I never like being alone for too long in the apartment, but there you have it. Maybe I'll take a little walk or something, just to get outside into the gorgeous sunshine.
So at the end of all of that, it's been a strangely wonderful day, despite everything, though I suppose I should say including everything. It's a week till my birthday, and T minus 6 days till visa madness.
Until next time.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
July 7th, 2010
...And then there are times where your body just decides things for you, which mine is incredibly good at doing (and drives me batty). I spent most of last night awake and in pain, as my entire intestinal region was tied in knots, and then this morning I thought, well, it's just cramps, they'll work out -- and was in the process of putting in my contacts when a wave of nausea hit me. So I took out the contact that was already in and went back to bed, promptly sleeping for another four hours or so.
Considering it all, it's not really surprising to me this happened; my body has a way of making sure I don't get too ahead of myself, and especially when I'm stressed it has a habit of making sure I stop for a bit and rest. As you know, reading my frantic posts about official documents, I have been under a fair amount of stress, and found myself last night strangely depressed about a variety of things. Disturbed about some things. Worried about others.
I'm not really sure how much I want to say here, but I can give you a sketch -- surprisingly, only some of it has to do with Paris. But it makes up a fairly large percentage. It's like, I'm a little guilty at how scared I am of the trip, especially as excited as I am about it and as convinced I am that I'm supposed to be there. But I can't deny that being by myself in a foreign city for nine months is, in all honesty, a little terrifying. It's a long way from home, and the only family member that will probably have enough money to visit me is my sister, Darcy. (not the one here in Asheville with me). That's great, but...
It also brings me to another thing that's been bothering me, which is that I miss my parents dearly. I have always been very close with my parents, and since september, I have probably seen them a total of 24 days. I came home for spring break and summer break last year, but not so this year -- I'm happy to be in Asheville, but it just bothers me that I will hardly see them, save a week at the end of August and then god only knows when, after I return from abroad (which is very uncertain right now).
And as much as I dislike admitting it, I have to say that the 'heaviness' around me at the hotel gets me down a bit -- I know that by accepting that, I'm playing the game and therefore losing, but it's just...heavy. I'll have to work on being able to punch through the webs of seriousness.
And then just to add a cherry on top, without naming any names and trying to be as nonchalant as possible about this, it's been really bothering me that I should meet someone I really like when I only have three months to know them. It just seems like a remarkably cruel joke, and you'd probably understand better if you know my history with such things.
So I have today and tomorrow to do nothing and let my soul catch up with me, search it when I do, and get this thing I call me back on track.
Ciao.
Considering it all, it's not really surprising to me this happened; my body has a way of making sure I don't get too ahead of myself, and especially when I'm stressed it has a habit of making sure I stop for a bit and rest. As you know, reading my frantic posts about official documents, I have been under a fair amount of stress, and found myself last night strangely depressed about a variety of things. Disturbed about some things. Worried about others.
I'm not really sure how much I want to say here, but I can give you a sketch -- surprisingly, only some of it has to do with Paris. But it makes up a fairly large percentage. It's like, I'm a little guilty at how scared I am of the trip, especially as excited as I am about it and as convinced I am that I'm supposed to be there. But I can't deny that being by myself in a foreign city for nine months is, in all honesty, a little terrifying. It's a long way from home, and the only family member that will probably have enough money to visit me is my sister, Darcy. (not the one here in Asheville with me). That's great, but...
It also brings me to another thing that's been bothering me, which is that I miss my parents dearly. I have always been very close with my parents, and since september, I have probably seen them a total of 24 days. I came home for spring break and summer break last year, but not so this year -- I'm happy to be in Asheville, but it just bothers me that I will hardly see them, save a week at the end of August and then god only knows when, after I return from abroad (which is very uncertain right now).
And as much as I dislike admitting it, I have to say that the 'heaviness' around me at the hotel gets me down a bit -- I know that by accepting that, I'm playing the game and therefore losing, but it's just...heavy. I'll have to work on being able to punch through the webs of seriousness.
And then just to add a cherry on top, without naming any names and trying to be as nonchalant as possible about this, it's been really bothering me that I should meet someone I really like when I only have three months to know them. It just seems like a remarkably cruel joke, and you'd probably understand better if you know my history with such things.
So I have today and tomorrow to do nothing and let my soul catch up with me, search it when I do, and get this thing I call me back on track.
Ciao.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
July 6th, 2010
I love the fourth of July, for a variety of reasons. First of all, for very simple reasons -- I love fireworks. Explosions of color and the bang bang you can feel in your stomach. Plus I love July, because it's my birthday month, and before it gets too hot but when the colors are still saturated and the sky's still violently blue. Sparklers late at night, fireflies winking in and out of existence, ice cream, bare feet on a baseball field -- those so patently summertime bubbles of life that you can't possibly resist.
Also, I love thinking about Independence Day at the beginning, before America meant Manifest Destiny and Imperialism and banning same-sex marriages, before it meant the stock market or the economic crash -- no, back when America was just a dream, the brain child of a bunch of brilliant, agnostic, philosophical men who were daring enough to dream of freedom, where life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness truly were unalienable rights. The philosophy of the Declaration itself, the culture of colonial America, the events that forced a group of reluctant old Englishmen to declare their King a traitor -- I think it's fascinating to think about/study. It was why I misguidedly considered a political science major for some time.
(I have been biking/walking/standing sooo much. My legs are quite upset with me).
Anyway so Hilary and I really had to celebrate on the fifth, seeing as I worked the 7a-1p, 5p-10p shift on Sunday (that was KILLER), and we both had the day off on Monday (well, I had to be at work at 4p, but most of the day). We have hardly seen each other recently, what with her at the Tourists and me at the theater, so it was fantastic to get to just hang out, which is something the two of us do well -- when we have the time. (Rarely). So we slept in late, and decided to go kibitz about downtown for awhile.
We decided to check out Woolworth and Co, the old F.W. Woolworth 5cent store that's now been renovated into Asheville's largest art gallery, with all local artists. We must have spent a forty five minutes at least wandering around and bemoaning that we couldn't afford art -- but really, there were some incredible pieces in there. I am absolutely wild about color, and there was plenty of that, especially at the booth selling paintings in the style of "New Orleans Jazz Expressionism", which was amaaaaazzzzing. Some of the photographs, too, plus these incredible gothic pieces that I just about had a cow over.
After we checked out all the art, we decided to get lunch at the 50s style soda fountain/diner thing in the building, and bought grilled cheese sandwiches and shakes - chocolate for Hilary, hazelnut mocha for me. We sat on red plastic chairs and looked at the menu, with handdipped ice cream and vintage coca cola bottles, "The Saturday" version along with a Sundae. I don't know why, but I love that old 50s style and food -- all terrible for you, of course, but we all have our vices.
We then meandered out into downtown, and found our way to the park just beyond Pack Place, and stuck our feet in the fountain there, mingling with all the little kids in swimsuits, trying to predict which fountain is going to go off next. Just beyond is a little amphitheater with a walkway in the back with a grid of warped metal on the top -- to the left are the county court houses, to the right is the fountain, and in the front are the blue ridge mountains, absolutely lush and treed. With the sun on my back, just looking around, I was just so happy. Life really is wonderful.
We wandered back through downtown and found an AWESOME knick knack shop on Wall Street -- at least, I think it was Wall Street, but I would be back for sure if I had money (that old tired refrain), then headed home and I went to work shortly thereafter.
The evening shift has been pretty fun to work, even though you don't make as much money -- the restaurant is pretty dead at night -- but the one waiter that I've been working with is named Rey, a short Brazilian gay guy (yes, I know, the recipe for amazing). We just spent the evenings chatting about guys, life, music, and anything else that came to mind, and on Sunday night the cook got bored and decided to make us dinner. It was reallllly good. Also, we had a rush both nights, and on Sunday it was enough that I got to help out a lot -- bring food, get drinks, etc. Rey is great that he lets me help out so much -- sometimes with the other servers I feel like I would be stepping on someone's toes if I do too much. But I think I'd really like waiting tables -- but if I make more money bussing, then lord knows I won't make too much of a stink over the fact that no one has been honest with me about whether or not I'm even allowed to be trained.
In any case, I am now just waiting for the mail to come and crossing my fingers that somewhere in there is my social security card -- however, I just spoke on the phone with someone from the consulate, who spoke with a heavy French accent, that said I could use an alternate form of proof of residence. I will probably bring everything I can possibly think of, such as a copy of my lease, a pay stub, etc, etc. So that's cool. Now all I need to figure out is the financial guarantee and we should be golden. Yay.
I am starving, so I think I'm going to go make some pancakes for lunch and curl up on the couch with my new book -- it's called Angelology, by Danielle Trusson, and I got it free from Malaprops after I saw it on the shelves, thought it looked interesting, and went to go see if anyone at the front desk had read it. They hadn't, but they had a damaged copy in the back they gave to me. Wahoo.
Tonight I'm thinking about going to a dance class at a studio Raj referred me to, a modern class. I'm a little reluctant to at the moment, because it involves me getting off my butt and getting over there this evening, but it would probably be good for me, seeing as I'm not dancing nearly enough.
Anywho. I'll figure it out.
Catch you later.
Also, I love thinking about Independence Day at the beginning, before America meant Manifest Destiny and Imperialism and banning same-sex marriages, before it meant the stock market or the economic crash -- no, back when America was just a dream, the brain child of a bunch of brilliant, agnostic, philosophical men who were daring enough to dream of freedom, where life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness truly were unalienable rights. The philosophy of the Declaration itself, the culture of colonial America, the events that forced a group of reluctant old Englishmen to declare their King a traitor -- I think it's fascinating to think about/study. It was why I misguidedly considered a political science major for some time.
(I have been biking/walking/standing sooo much. My legs are quite upset with me).
Anyway so Hilary and I really had to celebrate on the fifth, seeing as I worked the 7a-1p, 5p-10p shift on Sunday (that was KILLER), and we both had the day off on Monday (well, I had to be at work at 4p, but most of the day). We have hardly seen each other recently, what with her at the Tourists and me at the theater, so it was fantastic to get to just hang out, which is something the two of us do well -- when we have the time. (Rarely). So we slept in late, and decided to go kibitz about downtown for awhile.
We decided to check out Woolworth and Co, the old F.W. Woolworth 5cent store that's now been renovated into Asheville's largest art gallery, with all local artists. We must have spent a forty five minutes at least wandering around and bemoaning that we couldn't afford art -- but really, there were some incredible pieces in there. I am absolutely wild about color, and there was plenty of that, especially at the booth selling paintings in the style of "New Orleans Jazz Expressionism", which was amaaaaazzzzing. Some of the photographs, too, plus these incredible gothic pieces that I just about had a cow over.
After we checked out all the art, we decided to get lunch at the 50s style soda fountain/diner thing in the building, and bought grilled cheese sandwiches and shakes - chocolate for Hilary, hazelnut mocha for me. We sat on red plastic chairs and looked at the menu, with handdipped ice cream and vintage coca cola bottles, "The Saturday" version along with a Sundae. I don't know why, but I love that old 50s style and food -- all terrible for you, of course, but we all have our vices.
We then meandered out into downtown, and found our way to the park just beyond Pack Place, and stuck our feet in the fountain there, mingling with all the little kids in swimsuits, trying to predict which fountain is going to go off next. Just beyond is a little amphitheater with a walkway in the back with a grid of warped metal on the top -- to the left are the county court houses, to the right is the fountain, and in the front are the blue ridge mountains, absolutely lush and treed. With the sun on my back, just looking around, I was just so happy. Life really is wonderful.
We wandered back through downtown and found an AWESOME knick knack shop on Wall Street -- at least, I think it was Wall Street, but I would be back for sure if I had money (that old tired refrain), then headed home and I went to work shortly thereafter.
The evening shift has been pretty fun to work, even though you don't make as much money -- the restaurant is pretty dead at night -- but the one waiter that I've been working with is named Rey, a short Brazilian gay guy (yes, I know, the recipe for amazing). We just spent the evenings chatting about guys, life, music, and anything else that came to mind, and on Sunday night the cook got bored and decided to make us dinner. It was reallllly good. Also, we had a rush both nights, and on Sunday it was enough that I got to help out a lot -- bring food, get drinks, etc. Rey is great that he lets me help out so much -- sometimes with the other servers I feel like I would be stepping on someone's toes if I do too much. But I think I'd really like waiting tables -- but if I make more money bussing, then lord knows I won't make too much of a stink over the fact that no one has been honest with me about whether or not I'm even allowed to be trained.
In any case, I am now just waiting for the mail to come and crossing my fingers that somewhere in there is my social security card -- however, I just spoke on the phone with someone from the consulate, who spoke with a heavy French accent, that said I could use an alternate form of proof of residence. I will probably bring everything I can possibly think of, such as a copy of my lease, a pay stub, etc, etc. So that's cool. Now all I need to figure out is the financial guarantee and we should be golden. Yay.
I am starving, so I think I'm going to go make some pancakes for lunch and curl up on the couch with my new book -- it's called Angelology, by Danielle Trusson, and I got it free from Malaprops after I saw it on the shelves, thought it looked interesting, and went to go see if anyone at the front desk had read it. They hadn't, but they had a damaged copy in the back they gave to me. Wahoo.
Tonight I'm thinking about going to a dance class at a studio Raj referred me to, a modern class. I'm a little reluctant to at the moment, because it involves me getting off my butt and getting over there this evening, but it would probably be good for me, seeing as I'm not dancing nearly enough.
Anywho. I'll figure it out.
Catch you later.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
July 2nd, 2010 Part 2
After several more items of frustration, including an errant letter from the financial aid office at Columbia University and missing information that I already sent. All that fun stuff. Plus a miniature nervous breakdown. I am not usually like this. It is the phase of the moon, if you catch my meaning.
My dad just called me with his usual unusual advice. He operates under a lifestyle of full accountability and no excuses, including what he calls "The Asshole Principle": That is, when there is an 'asshole' in your life, or something blocking your way, it is there because you have somehow created it and is there to teach you something about yourself. That is, what is the "hook" that is keeping you from moving forward. He wanted to invite me to ask myself why I have created an energy of distress for myself today despite the organic reasons.
It's an interesting question, and I'm interested in the answer, even as I have no clue myself. I have been extremely apprehensive about the visa process as well as the financial aid process. There have been a lot of stumbling blocks, which have added to my worries, but I suppose by worrying more I create more stumbling blocks. My main worry is just time -- getting it all together and ready to go at a certain time. I thought I had a LOT more time, but then July hit and suddenly I don't even have two weeks anymore before I go to the consulate -- if I even keep that appointment time.
I guess it's just the terribly oppressive and scary thought of having to figure it out by myself -- in the case Raj can't help me get down, it's me. In a foreign city, trying to find a building where I have heard everything about how if you don't have the right number of copies and exact documents they need, you don't get the visa.
What would that mean? No Paris, I suppose, and that thought is probably the scariest -- I'm convinced, for whatever reason, that I must be in Paris next fall, and thus I have to make it happen somehow. But ever more the stumbling blocks to get there keep arriving, and ever since I got into the program there have been reasons to doubt my ability to physically be in Paris. Why is that? Do I not want to go?
Maybe I'm just scared of it. It's a long way from home. It's a foreign culture. I probably won't know anyone at all. I don't have a lot of money. There's a lot that is uncertain, and unsure, and the responsibility falls -- for the most part -- on my own shoulders. I have a tendency, when that happens, to not want to deal with things. Just say, I can't deal with this, and back away. I suppose the lesson is, dive in and grab it with your teeth, accept the challenges cheerfully, instead of fearfully (that rhymes). Cheesy sounding, I know, but probably truthful.
One of the other things I wanted to blog about today was my recent thoughts on the fact that, despite everything, I will only be turning 20 years old two weeks from tomorrow. I am only halfway through college, and yet, in the past six weeks, I have been living as though I am fully an adult and graduated. I hardly know how to think about being back in school; after all, we found an apartment, I went hunting for -- and got -- two jobs, and I've been worrying about furnishing and grocery bills and whose turn it is to do the dishes. It has been overwhelming in the fact that it really wasn't that overwhelming at all (I know my earlier frantic posts will deny that, but in retrospect). And yet, here I am, not even twenty one (I've noticed it would be great to be twenty one and be able to go hang out at bars with my sister, just to be together and out, and not necessarily stuck in the apartment). Not even twenty.
I suppose that, in trying to be an adult in life here in Asheville, I've been trying to compensate by subconsciously wanting the visa process to solve itself, and since it hasn't, it's been trying to get my attention and show me that, despite my best efforts to ignore it, I really have to take responsibility for it and make it happen.
That, and today just isn't a good day for me.
I can't decide if I want to wait and just sniff out if there is a possibility that I actually will be able to make the appointment, and start trusting that things will work out -- a novel idea -- or change it now. I think my best option is to see where we are next Friday and then decide -- but of course it affects work schedules and everything else, since everyone is expecting me to be gone a certain weekend and it will fuck up a lot of things if that changes. But we shall see, and I suppose I will try my best to calm down about it all.
Until later.
My dad just called me with his usual unusual advice. He operates under a lifestyle of full accountability and no excuses, including what he calls "The Asshole Principle": That is, when there is an 'asshole' in your life, or something blocking your way, it is there because you have somehow created it and is there to teach you something about yourself. That is, what is the "hook" that is keeping you from moving forward. He wanted to invite me to ask myself why I have created an energy of distress for myself today despite the organic reasons.
It's an interesting question, and I'm interested in the answer, even as I have no clue myself. I have been extremely apprehensive about the visa process as well as the financial aid process. There have been a lot of stumbling blocks, which have added to my worries, but I suppose by worrying more I create more stumbling blocks. My main worry is just time -- getting it all together and ready to go at a certain time. I thought I had a LOT more time, but then July hit and suddenly I don't even have two weeks anymore before I go to the consulate -- if I even keep that appointment time.
I guess it's just the terribly oppressive and scary thought of having to figure it out by myself -- in the case Raj can't help me get down, it's me. In a foreign city, trying to find a building where I have heard everything about how if you don't have the right number of copies and exact documents they need, you don't get the visa.
What would that mean? No Paris, I suppose, and that thought is probably the scariest -- I'm convinced, for whatever reason, that I must be in Paris next fall, and thus I have to make it happen somehow. But ever more the stumbling blocks to get there keep arriving, and ever since I got into the program there have been reasons to doubt my ability to physically be in Paris. Why is that? Do I not want to go?
Maybe I'm just scared of it. It's a long way from home. It's a foreign culture. I probably won't know anyone at all. I don't have a lot of money. There's a lot that is uncertain, and unsure, and the responsibility falls -- for the most part -- on my own shoulders. I have a tendency, when that happens, to not want to deal with things. Just say, I can't deal with this, and back away. I suppose the lesson is, dive in and grab it with your teeth, accept the challenges cheerfully, instead of fearfully (that rhymes). Cheesy sounding, I know, but probably truthful.
One of the other things I wanted to blog about today was my recent thoughts on the fact that, despite everything, I will only be turning 20 years old two weeks from tomorrow. I am only halfway through college, and yet, in the past six weeks, I have been living as though I am fully an adult and graduated. I hardly know how to think about being back in school; after all, we found an apartment, I went hunting for -- and got -- two jobs, and I've been worrying about furnishing and grocery bills and whose turn it is to do the dishes. It has been overwhelming in the fact that it really wasn't that overwhelming at all (I know my earlier frantic posts will deny that, but in retrospect). And yet, here I am, not even twenty one (I've noticed it would be great to be twenty one and be able to go hang out at bars with my sister, just to be together and out, and not necessarily stuck in the apartment). Not even twenty.
I suppose that, in trying to be an adult in life here in Asheville, I've been trying to compensate by subconsciously wanting the visa process to solve itself, and since it hasn't, it's been trying to get my attention and show me that, despite my best efforts to ignore it, I really have to take responsibility for it and make it happen.
That, and today just isn't a good day for me.
I can't decide if I want to wait and just sniff out if there is a possibility that I actually will be able to make the appointment, and start trusting that things will work out -- a novel idea -- or change it now. I think my best option is to see where we are next Friday and then decide -- but of course it affects work schedules and everything else, since everyone is expecting me to be gone a certain weekend and it will fuck up a lot of things if that changes. But we shall see, and I suppose I will try my best to calm down about it all.
Until later.
July 2nd, 2010
Those of you who have met me probably know I am a remarkably mild person; I rarely get angry, and if I do, I don't tend to show it. But there is a temper hidden under there, and it was lit earlier today, after I arrived at the DMV and was told that 1) I need my social security card for a NC ID card, and 2) they do NOT, as I was informed, print the cards right there; in fact, it takes 10 days for them to send it to Raleigh and get it mailed back to you.
My social security card is currently in Colorado. I accidentally yelled at my poor mother over the phone and hung up on her upon realizing then that Monday is a holiday and therefore the earliest I could possibly get the card would be Tuesday. The 6th. If I then get to the DMV on Tuesday, it would be exactly ten days until my appointment, and we were planning to leave on the 15th.
Pardon my French for a second:
FUCK. THAT.
Upon hearing all of this, I was heartily tempted to throw my cell phone at a nearby wall -- I didn't. I waited until I got home, and then threw it at the couch. I'm convinced I'll have to change the time of the appointment, which probably means that Raj can't come with me, which means I'll have to bus down there. Sounds like a BUNDLE of roses, heading down by myself on a bus full of creepy old men who spend their time eyeing me like a piece of meat. They only do that all the time here in Asheville. FUCK YOU PEOPLE, I'M A HUMAN BEING!!
I think you may have guessed I'm frustrated. And stressed. I'm just at a loss, if I want to just hope that it gets here in time, or go ahead and change the damn thing, or what. This whole process has been a bit of a nightmare, and just now I picked up an e-mail from Columbia financial aid saying they haven't reached my study abroad worksheet, something that I didn't realize was required. Now I have to reprint, refill, and mail it. ARGH. Why am I even doing this?!
I have a lot more to say, but I need to cool off for awhile. I'll write later with some updates/thoughts.
Until then. I hate bureaucracy.
My social security card is currently in Colorado. I accidentally yelled at my poor mother over the phone and hung up on her upon realizing then that Monday is a holiday and therefore the earliest I could possibly get the card would be Tuesday. The 6th. If I then get to the DMV on Tuesday, it would be exactly ten days until my appointment, and we were planning to leave on the 15th.
Pardon my French for a second:
FUCK. THAT.
Upon hearing all of this, I was heartily tempted to throw my cell phone at a nearby wall -- I didn't. I waited until I got home, and then threw it at the couch. I'm convinced I'll have to change the time of the appointment, which probably means that Raj can't come with me, which means I'll have to bus down there. Sounds like a BUNDLE of roses, heading down by myself on a bus full of creepy old men who spend their time eyeing me like a piece of meat. They only do that all the time here in Asheville. FUCK YOU PEOPLE, I'M A HUMAN BEING!!
I think you may have guessed I'm frustrated. And stressed. I'm just at a loss, if I want to just hope that it gets here in time, or go ahead and change the damn thing, or what. This whole process has been a bit of a nightmare, and just now I picked up an e-mail from Columbia financial aid saying they haven't reached my study abroad worksheet, something that I didn't realize was required. Now I have to reprint, refill, and mail it. ARGH. Why am I even doing this?!
I have a lot more to say, but I need to cool off for awhile. I'll write later with some updates/thoughts.
Until then. I hate bureaucracy.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
June 29th, 2010
They are trying to fix our internet. So instead of just not working well, the cable guy has succeeded so far in making it not work whatsoever. So I am back leeching off the internet in Montford Books, however sitting at the table this time in an attempt to save my back, which is already angry with me for the abuse I've been putting it through -- either hunched over a bike, on my feet all day long, or doing arabesques. I also got some free coffee out of the deal, which is great, seeing as I took an hour and fifteen minute long power nap and am still sleepy.
But here we are -- I'm not really sure what to say except that life goes on. I've been at work for about six or seven straight days now and don't have a day off in sight -- when I'm off at the hotel, I'm working at Pack Place, and then doing a double Sunday at the hotel. At least I no longer have to be out every night -- that was just absolutely killer. I'd get home at ten thirty and collapse into bed. Wake up at six and repeat the cycle.
But I can't complain -- did the internet here just die?! No? Good. -- because I got to spend several hours in a theatre, watching some fantastic dance. It was a tribute to Salvatore Aeillo -- the company was Terpsicorps Theatre of Dance, and they are fantastic, you should check them out -- and they did his pieces "Clowns and Others" and "The Rite of Spring", along with a piece choreographed by the artistic director of the company, Heather Maloy, called "Second Line". Clowns was just really precious, Second Line had some fantastic swing music and a really hot pas de deux, and Rite is totally energetic and crazy and awesome. It was great because I got to see each piece several times, so I learned them well and got to think about them and all that fun stuff.
I also met another fellow dancer for coffee yesterday, a woman who is the cousin's wife of one of my bosses at my internship this past semester. She danced professionally for several years in New York City before recently moving to Asheville, and she has her own company, which blends modern with butoh, which was originally a Japanese form of dance, created post World War 2. It's an interesting form -- if not really in my aesthetic, but it was great to chat with another dancer.
Also on Sunday night, Hilary, Raj and I went to see King Lear, put on by the Montford Park Players and the Asheville version of Shakespeare in the park. It was great -- very laid back, this little amphitheater in Montford Park, rent a chair for two bucks and chill. The acting wasn't fantastic, but it wasn't terrible either. I like Lear anyway, so it was fun. Afterwards, Raj and I took a wander through the nearby cemetery, which was really really lovely with the full moon rising, huge and yellow and generally howl worthy.
This week is fourth of July, which is actually one of my favorite holidays. I'll probably go to the fireworks game on Saturday night, even though I don't get off until 8:30. I'll just be one of those really annoying people who don't show up until the fourth or fifth inning. Not my idea, people!!
In any case, I managed to talk myself out of two hundred bucks -- I got the revised paycheck from the hotel the other day. But at least my karma is still spotless, and I've earned the respect of the grumpy manager who was getting on me for not having the name tag. That hotel -- the atmosphere is so heavy. People are so angry and frustrated...I try to be as cheerful as I absolutely can, try and lighten things up. At least a couple people have told me that the place is happier when I'm there, and it makes me smile -- that's what I'm trying to do, there and in life. Make life wonderful again.
I think this place closes at five, so I should think about heading out. I am highly doubtful of the internet's ability to work but hopefully it will be fixed soon and I will stop annoying you endlessly complaining about it.
Until next time.
But here we are -- I'm not really sure what to say except that life goes on. I've been at work for about six or seven straight days now and don't have a day off in sight -- when I'm off at the hotel, I'm working at Pack Place, and then doing a double Sunday at the hotel. At least I no longer have to be out every night -- that was just absolutely killer. I'd get home at ten thirty and collapse into bed. Wake up at six and repeat the cycle.
But I can't complain -- did the internet here just die?! No? Good. -- because I got to spend several hours in a theatre, watching some fantastic dance. It was a tribute to Salvatore Aeillo -- the company was Terpsicorps Theatre of Dance, and they are fantastic, you should check them out -- and they did his pieces "Clowns and Others" and "The Rite of Spring", along with a piece choreographed by the artistic director of the company, Heather Maloy, called "Second Line". Clowns was just really precious, Second Line had some fantastic swing music and a really hot pas de deux, and Rite is totally energetic and crazy and awesome. It was great because I got to see each piece several times, so I learned them well and got to think about them and all that fun stuff.
I also met another fellow dancer for coffee yesterday, a woman who is the cousin's wife of one of my bosses at my internship this past semester. She danced professionally for several years in New York City before recently moving to Asheville, and she has her own company, which blends modern with butoh, which was originally a Japanese form of dance, created post World War 2. It's an interesting form -- if not really in my aesthetic, but it was great to chat with another dancer.
Also on Sunday night, Hilary, Raj and I went to see King Lear, put on by the Montford Park Players and the Asheville version of Shakespeare in the park. It was great -- very laid back, this little amphitheater in Montford Park, rent a chair for two bucks and chill. The acting wasn't fantastic, but it wasn't terrible either. I like Lear anyway, so it was fun. Afterwards, Raj and I took a wander through the nearby cemetery, which was really really lovely with the full moon rising, huge and yellow and generally howl worthy.
This week is fourth of July, which is actually one of my favorite holidays. I'll probably go to the fireworks game on Saturday night, even though I don't get off until 8:30. I'll just be one of those really annoying people who don't show up until the fourth or fifth inning. Not my idea, people!!
In any case, I managed to talk myself out of two hundred bucks -- I got the revised paycheck from the hotel the other day. But at least my karma is still spotless, and I've earned the respect of the grumpy manager who was getting on me for not having the name tag. That hotel -- the atmosphere is so heavy. People are so angry and frustrated...I try to be as cheerful as I absolutely can, try and lighten things up. At least a couple people have told me that the place is happier when I'm there, and it makes me smile -- that's what I'm trying to do, there and in life. Make life wonderful again.
I think this place closes at five, so I should think about heading out. I am highly doubtful of the internet's ability to work but hopefully it will be fixed soon and I will stop annoying you endlessly complaining about it.
Until next time.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
June 23rd, 2010
I have nothing to report except a new story that further showcases the idiocy of the corporate workplace. And I suppose I'm buying into that world when I offer a disclaimer and say that I am making fun of everyone equally. I just know about the place I'm working because, well, that's where I'm working. Trust me. You do it too. I know you do. I am not only making fun of the people I work for. I think it's all ridiculous.
In ANY case. So. Today I work both jobs and attend a dress rehearsal for the show I'm assistant stage managing, which equates to a 7am-10pm day, with no time in between except maybe to eat. Last night I had to get together all my various clothes and food and shoes necessary, and along the way managed to leave behind my name pin, a fact I realized as soon as I arrived at the hotel. Uh. Oh.
So I go in and put on my uniform, and upon learning that I have no name tag, all the servers tell me to keep it hidden from the dude in charge, we'll call him Peter for the blog's sake. He comes around. I slink around trying not to be noticed. I manage -- sort of. I am slinking somewhat guiltily by, I say "good morning!' cheerfully, and then he says, "where's your name tag, Gillian?"
Bust.ed.
I say it's at home, and I'll look for it tonight (I know exactly where it is. It's just not with me.) Then here's the kicker: he says he can get in BIG TROUBLE if I don't have it. In fact, "if we get audited," he could get in trouble for a WHOLE YEAR.
All because I don't have my name tag.
At which point, the whole time I am nodding and looking appropriately chastened and saying "okay" and "I understand", I am thinking, "WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!"
SERIOUSLY?!
A whole year of trouble because of a name tag?! Good heavens, what are we doing with our time? Shouldn't someone be worrying about the oil spill? Or maybe thinking up new ways to use energy? But instead we are spending our time deciding that not wearing a name tag is grounds for keeping a hotel under watch for an entire year?
My god.
Really though. My god.
Then of course he later caught me eating a cookie in the kitchen, which is a Big No No too -- oy -- and later on I discovered there was a problem with my paycheck. Allow me to be incredibly self-righteous for a minute and say that my punches were completely messed up, such that I was getting paid WAY over what I was supposed to get -- and I reported it immediately, so my paycheck will be probably half - or less -- than what it said on the check today. Not to mention I've forgotten to punch in and out about five times, so they have to look through all the stuff with me and make sure my hours are right. Yikes. They are now thinking, why in the WORLD did we hire that girl? All this trouble for a summer's worth of work, what were we thinking?!
It's kind of like me and the goddamn phone processing fee that I've forgotten to add at least twice now. All very embarrassing and strange and I swear I am not usually this scatterbrained. Wonder why so much is falling through the cracks right now...
Anywho. Just had to say that.
Ciao
In ANY case. So. Today I work both jobs and attend a dress rehearsal for the show I'm assistant stage managing, which equates to a 7am-10pm day, with no time in between except maybe to eat. Last night I had to get together all my various clothes and food and shoes necessary, and along the way managed to leave behind my name pin, a fact I realized as soon as I arrived at the hotel. Uh. Oh.
So I go in and put on my uniform, and upon learning that I have no name tag, all the servers tell me to keep it hidden from the dude in charge, we'll call him Peter for the blog's sake. He comes around. I slink around trying not to be noticed. I manage -- sort of. I am slinking somewhat guiltily by, I say "good morning!' cheerfully, and then he says, "where's your name tag, Gillian?"
Bust.ed.
I say it's at home, and I'll look for it tonight (I know exactly where it is. It's just not with me.) Then here's the kicker: he says he can get in BIG TROUBLE if I don't have it. In fact, "if we get audited," he could get in trouble for a WHOLE YEAR.
All because I don't have my name tag.
At which point, the whole time I am nodding and looking appropriately chastened and saying "okay" and "I understand", I am thinking, "WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!"
SERIOUSLY?!
A whole year of trouble because of a name tag?! Good heavens, what are we doing with our time? Shouldn't someone be worrying about the oil spill? Or maybe thinking up new ways to use energy? But instead we are spending our time deciding that not wearing a name tag is grounds for keeping a hotel under watch for an entire year?
My god.
Really though. My god.
Then of course he later caught me eating a cookie in the kitchen, which is a Big No No too -- oy -- and later on I discovered there was a problem with my paycheck. Allow me to be incredibly self-righteous for a minute and say that my punches were completely messed up, such that I was getting paid WAY over what I was supposed to get -- and I reported it immediately, so my paycheck will be probably half - or less -- than what it said on the check today. Not to mention I've forgotten to punch in and out about five times, so they have to look through all the stuff with me and make sure my hours are right. Yikes. They are now thinking, why in the WORLD did we hire that girl? All this trouble for a summer's worth of work, what were we thinking?!
It's kind of like me and the goddamn phone processing fee that I've forgotten to add at least twice now. All very embarrassing and strange and I swear I am not usually this scatterbrained. Wonder why so much is falling through the cracks right now...
Anywho. Just had to say that.
Ciao
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