This Year So Far

hello again, blog! sorry i’ve neglected you for so long. i’m not really sure why i did. it wasn’t intentional or conscious, more accidental and needlessly cruel. but i have thought about you often. on the running to do list i keep on the dry erase board on my fridge, you’ve remained a bullet point for weeks as they stretched into months. you’ve sat quietly and patiently, never once mocking me, as i’ve bypassed you in favor of other items like “buy car seat covers,” “research patio furniture” and “call insurance company.” none of those are as fun or creative as you, yet still you got back-burnered. well, no more. we are together at last, and i promise not to abandon you again.

i have missed the way you document my life for me so nicely, allowing me to flip back through older posts fondly, and some not so fondly, as i reminisce. there has been plenty going on this year and i regret not sharing those things with you earlier. but if you will allow me to now, i’d like to catch you up on things i’ve been doing without you, so that there may now be a record of them in you. and sorry again, beautiful blog. i hope you’ll accept this love letter to you and know that we are still BFFs, just like those two halves of a heart necklace we both share confirms. also, your hair looks great today.

 
the new car: i bought it last year when i got fed up with the old car giving me endless transmission problems. (we are not buying a Volkswagen ever again, blog.) the new car is roomy, though it eats gas like a thirsty little bitch despite having only a 4-cylinder engine. it’s a 2012 Toyota RAV4, by the way. drives great and i love it so far. i bought it used from Hertz Car Sales, so it had low mileage and great maintenance records. however, as this was an unexpected purchase, i didn’t have much money to put down, so the new car payments are hefty. the old jetta, which didn’t even make it to 100K miles, was sold to some used car lot for a pittance. as i was leaving that lot, the owner asked whether i wanted to take one final photo with the car, as many people do, and i waved him away while running out of the place. i’m sure he knows why by now.  

 
the holidays: they went exceptionally well (if you don’t count my frequent tears over spending them without my beloved Pinko for the first time). i spent Christmas at Tico’s twin sister’s house, where she erected a velcro bounce house in her yard for the guests and her own set of twins (she has 6-year-old fraternal boys). there, we bounced, drank, ate, laughed and passed the time in a lovely fashion. Tico gifted me a silver bracelet, which i’m wearing right now, and i gave him a GoPro Camera, which he used to take videos of Juice. new year’s eve was spent lying in bed in his arms instead of out on the town, which i guess is characteristic of people approaching 40. no complaints whatsoever. 

 
New York City: if i were less lazy, i would write an entire blog post about this, as the trip made many epic memories for me, but i’ll just relegate it to a bullet point for now. but yes, Tico and i conquered new york city in january and it was an obnoxiously, all capped AMAZING TRIP. we also spent a night in Newport, Rhode Island, at my dear friend’s John John’s house, who we passed most of the time with while in the city as well. we made new friends, walked through central park, hit up interesting tourist and local spots, stayed up late every night, ate and drank way too much, and even got caught in one of this winter’s wild snowstorms that cancelled our flight and gave us an extra day to explore the city.  

one of my proudest moments: though i stopped short of faking an orgasm in a restaurant (my parents didn’t raise no beast!), Tico and i did re-create the When Harry Met Sally scene at the famous Katz’s Delicatessan. then we went down the street to the famous Russ & Daughters for bagels, lox, cream cheese and herring. we also had Lombardi’s pizza and visited the Ghostbusters Firehouse. i came back to LA with an extra five pounds and a renewed love for New York, where i would love to live — if i made millions of dollars.


Russian River: after New York drained our bank accounts and energy, Tico and i headed to russian river in february for a long weekend of sitting around and not doing much. we stayed at my friend Sharon’s cabin, who joined us for two nights, and spent our days visiting antique shops in town and Armstrong Woods National Reserve, which has a 1,400-year-old tree. with a recharged battery, i returned home and quickly planned another trip back to the wood for later in the year. i cannot get enough of those redwoods. they are majestic.

 
me hugging a tree like the (secret) dirty hippie i am: moving to Russian River has become one of my many escapist fantasies, and i’ve begun thinking i should buy a vacation home there like my friend has. during the drive back to LA, this daydream played out in my head like a perfect movie, not of the romantic comedy variety ‘cus those all suck, but more like some sleeper hit with wine tasting and Tuscan suns or something. anyway, i even became obsessed with scouring real estate listings on redfin.com, squealing in delight each time a cheap fixer appeared on the market. then i got a letter from the city about my own cheap fixer and the daydream quickly dissipated into the familiar breathy sighs of first-world problems. 


three weeks later: this is the current state of my concrete back yard. apparently, my next-door neighbor called the LA department of building and safety, whom i have a sordid history with, and complained about a few things affecting our property line — things that were grandfathered in with the house and that the numerous inspectors who visited my house in past few years never once mentioned to me. but now i had to fix them. so i’m fixing them and trying to be all zen about it though the truth is i want to [redacted in case i actually do go postal one day] to my neighbor. as this is my first visit to the high road, i can report back that it is a humorless and lonely place. there will be a longer blog post about the repairs coming shortly. in the meantime, i'm taking many deep, breathy sighs.


the year ahead: oh, right, it’s almost april already (sorry again, blog). yet i’m still in the throes of figuring out the rest of the year, as i have a few things i’d like to see happen. so i consulted the lava lamp at my work cubicle, which doubles as a fortune-telling apparatus, to see what’s in store for my charmed life. 

• hawaii! this is booked already and just the thought of it brings me to my happy place. i’m going with the flight attendant friends i went to Italy with two summers ago (hooray for buddy passes) and staying at my parents’ time share, so it promises to be a very cheap trip. this is the only type of trip i can take because... 

• money: after the double whammy of unexpected car purchase + home repairs, i am firmly in the broke boat. i need to get out, and i will get out, if for no other reason than to purchase my dream vacation home among the redwoods. so i’ve begun to hustle accordingly. i’m looking at renting out the garage i never use while also selling the items sitting idly in the garage to make space for someone else's car/boxes. i would make a joke about selling my body, too, but i think i would need to pay for someone to use that. insert another joke about getting old and wrinkly.

• food: i stopped eating meat so my tacos lately are veggie only. (good thing potatoes are a vegetable.) i went meatless in february and my body has thanked me with rapid weight loss, easy digestion and no more food comas. i’m still eating fish, cheese and eggs so i haven’t lost my mind completely and if a restaurant dish i want has some meat included via chicken stock or clam chowder with bacon (note: clam chowder should have bacon), i’ll eat it without reservations. this is a very fluid pescatarianism and there could be momentary lapses should i find myself in a high-quality steakhouse. so maybe it’s more meat reduction than absolute meatlessness. whatever you call it, my body feels better than before so i’m sticking with it.

• everything else: despite the urging of well-intentioned friends, i don’t see a new dog in my future this year. i could be wrong, of course, and catch sight of a puppy that makes me feel the familiar pinch of cupid’s arrow again, but as of today, i’m not ready. i also don’t see any sweeping changes with Tico and me this year. we’re doing great, approaching the year mark and still keep separate residences despite spending most of our free time together. i love him whole-heartedly, want him to remain in my life and have been feeling very good about where things are, which is why every pregnancy and marriage innuendo i’ve heard has been replied to with an eye roll as they imply that something is lacking. rest assured, it’s not. things are super. he is great. i am lucky. we are happy. sincerely. 

awwww, the shmooptie pooptie cuteness! hearts, rainbows, unicorns! 

ok, enough of that. back to work, turkeys.

Homeownershit

that’s not a typo. it’s been pretty shitty lately. i had a hell of a time renewing my homeowner’s insurance policy this year. the problem: my deck. an adjuster who came out for a completely unrelated issue about 9 months ago decided she didn’t like it and said my policy shouldn’t be renewed because of it.

of course i only found this out when the policy was up for renewal a few months ago. after much scrambling and sending photos and phone calls and pleading, my original insurer dropped me and i had to find coverage elsewhere, which i managed to do (barely). the problem: the new coverage sucks hairy donkey balls despite costing the same as gilded donkey balls. plus, it doesn’t even cover my deck.

admittedly, my deck does suck. it’s old and rickety and ugly. it’s endured years of damage by water, termites and dry rot. but thanks to gravity, it’s still upright and fairly secure (though i wouldn’t invite 20 people to stand on it at once). my intention was always to replace it... eventually. the issue with replacing it is that the deck is attached to the house by a ledger, which is attached to the house’s siding, which also needs to be replaced. see where i’m going with this?

in order to replace my deck, i have to replace my house’s siding, which means a total exterior remodel. and that means a hell of a lot of money. i know i could probably do it for cheap if i went with stucco over wood siding, and i know i could probably cut a bunch of corners to shave off additional costs, but i refuse to skimp on my home, so spare me the unsolicited advice.

after seeing what cheapness does to a house — courtesy of my home’s former owners who used masking tape to glue broken mirrors together — i have come to recognize that people, indeed, get what they pay for. this doesn’t mean i’ll be importing italian marble or crystal chandeliers for this remodel (which are tacky anyway), but it does mean that i’ll be going with the highly durable and weather-resistant redwood over a cheaper wood for the deck.

luckily, i already have design plans in place for the house, courtesy of my architect ex Mo, who completed them before he was my ex. the plans are perfect and will do much to restore my little 1920s bungalow to its craftsman glory. i’m actually quite excited to see them executed despite also being scared shitless about how a months-long full exterior remodel is going to impact my life. i imagine it will put all that LA-asshole-zen shit i’ve been spewing lately to the test. serenity now, bitches.

the bright side is that i love my very reasonable, responsible and ethical contractor, Platon Markarian — call him for all your remodeling needs (but only after he’s finished with my house at the end of the summer) cell: 818.279.3118. this is the same contractor who did all the interior work on my house before i moved in; he also just finished building my neighbor’s new deck. he gets the vision for the house and is not a corner-cutter, always producing high-quality work, so i trust him without reservation.

but before Platon can hammer one nail into my house, i first have to take down my old deck, which will be done via a deck demolition party, where i will give my friends baseball bats, crowbars and permission to go to town on the most expensive investment i’ve ever made. afterwards, i will hammer them with beer.

but before i can even do that, i need to find a bag of money, preferably one with an endless bottom. and because those seedlings for the money tree i ordered off that cracker jack box never sprouted, i have to rely on banks and credit unions to help me out. thus, i’m kicking off my Begging for Money tour across the southland, effective immediately, which will find me cozying up to various bank tellers while trying to slip my hand in the cash drawer. wish me luck.

Still Counting

right after i blogged about my seasonal battle with insomnia — an entry the universe surely read — i was subject to a string of restful nights of sleep, plus a weekend full of naps. yes, you read that right: NAPS! they weren’t particularly long naps, averaging maybe half an hour, but they did plenty to replenish my sleepy self. so yay for NAPS! my new band name is NAPS! did i mention i took NAPS! over the weekend?

these restful nights lasted exactly one week before evaporating, so if you’re still reading this, universe, please come back and perform the insomnia exorcism again. we didn’t expunge the demon all the way last time. he’s still lingering in my bed, eating crackers unapologetically and demanding that we watch all-night marathons of Tales From the Crypt together. i think he’s even possessed Mo, who now also complains each morning of “sleeping like shit last night.” i see some midnight scrabble tournaments in our future.

but this insomnia is different and doubly antagonistic because it has as much to do with anxiety as it does with the weather. this is not unusual for me, as stress has ruined many a night of sleep for me in the past. and thankfully this time isn’t as bad as that one winter i spent “being a freelancer” (read: unemployed), when i was grinding my teeth each night and had to get a mouth guard. so no need to cart me off to the sleep clinic just yet.

but there are a few things occupying that usually empty space three feet above my ass, and because the universe has proved itself to be a Milla Times reader in the recent past, i’m hoping that disclosing my list of stressors here might invite another exorcism, one that brings satisfying sleep to my bed and bags of money to my doorstep. here’s hoping:

• money: duh! this is an obvious, enduring concern for me, as it is for almost everyone, but it’s been more bothersome lately for a multitude of reasons. home loan notwithstanding, this was supposed to be the Year of Paying Down Debt, which i have indeed done, but not to the point of eradicating it as i had hoped, only reducing. i realize that reducing is better than nothing, certainly better than accruing, but the dent should have been much bigger. though given the fact that my company fell on hard times and forwent raises this year, it couldn’t be.



• home repairs: this goes hand-in-hand with money worries and has the unfortunate side effect of accruing debt instead of eradicating it, but i’m comfortable with this because 1) home improvements typically increase a home’s value, which will come in handy when i sell many years from now; 2) many of these improvements will increase the house’s energy efficiency, which will ultimately save me money and also qualify for all sorts of tax credits and consumer rebates; and 3) a pleasant home environment will impact my mental health in positive ways. when i try to explain all this to the myriad lenders i’ve called in search of a HELOC, i’m met with testy brokers who say, “if you bought your house last year, you’re probably ‘underwater,’ so unless the house appraises for more than you paid for it, you’ll never qualify for a loan. call us once the market turns around.”



• work: just days after last month’s layoff came to decimate 10% of my company’s staff, the rumor mill starting churning again, predicting evil tidings for the fall. as with all rumors, i take these with a grain of salt, whatever that means. seriously, though, why would we take uncertain news with a grain of salt? vicodin and cocktails i can understand, but why salt? i don’t get it. in any case, i’m too sleepy to react in any meaningful way to these rumors, but because i’m not dead, i can’t say that they haven’t unnerved me.



• technology: now five years old, my iBook is beginning to act like a menopausal woman with hot flashes who overheats when three applications are running. and whenever i try to watch a video online, out comes a curmudgeonly old man who’s apparently never heard of streaming video and says, “what is this YouTube website you kids like? i don’t have the bandwidth for that. let’s freeze up your screen instead and maybe you’ll use this time to call your mother.”



• ants: please spare me the obvious advice because i’ve tried everything: ant traps filled with poison, spray bottles filled with vinegar, sealing the openings with caulk, dousing the area with cinnamon and cayenne, eliminating all food and water from the premises and so on. these methods have been effective and i haven’t seen an adult ant in weeks, but now the babies have hatched and come for revenge. these are so tiny that they managed to wiggle into the (supposedly) air-tight container i bought to store the dog food, which now makes TWO 40-lbs bags of dog food ruined by ants. even my dreams are populated by ants lately. when i open my tired eyes each morning, ants are my first thought and usually the first thing i see when i step into the kitchen. i wonder if they can be trained to make me a cup of coffee. it’s the least they could do.

okay, universe. your turn.

Shitty

if this blog is good for anything, it’s good for keeping a tally of when i’m actually right about things. and right there in my Annual entry, immortalized in 10-point arial font is my prediction that 2009 will be a shitty year. granted, it’s not living-on-the-streets-in-a-cardboard-box-eating-out-of-trash-cans shitty, but allow me some creative license here and rest assured that each time i enter into woe-is-me mode i do remind myself that i could be stuck in Ukraine, growing a tail from the Chernobyl explosion.

despite the fact that i have no such gangly tail growing — which seems sorta cool the more i think about it — 2009 has started rough. admittedly, the roughness has hit others more than it has hit me, but because i am a sensitive soul who feels every discomfort in the universe, i’m bummed about it, too.

it all began when my mom got laid off from her job as a mechanical engineer. technically, it was a forced leave of absence (unpaid), so she may be rehired, though i think that’s doubtful considering her company has not invited back the first group that was forced out. needless to say, she’s been sad beyond sad, as she’s spent 15 years with her company, loving on her work and her colleagues. plus, my superstar mom was always the primary moneymaker for the family, so the elimination of her paycheck sucks harder than it would if my pops were laid off.

a week and a half later, my pops was laid off. shit squared. this was a surprise as his company still seemed busy while my mom’s had all but shut down operations. so now both mom and dad are out of work, just years shy of retiring, their savings eroded by last year’s market implosion, their hopes dashed for a comfortable retirement.

i visited them as soon as i found out, took them to lunch and helped with their resumes like a good daughter would have, all the while feeling guilty as shit for the money i owe them, money they could use right about now, money i cannot yet repay. to assuage my guilt, i brought them some food, some flowers and did all i could to cheer them up while they sat sullen, shocked and unamused. finally, i offered to give them all the money i had in my account, but they refused like the good parents they are, reminding me that their 40 years in the workplace has made their account slightly more robust than mine. “hang onto your cash, Meel,” my mom said as she clipped coupons at the kitchen table. “you might need it this year.”

two weeks later, my company had its own round of layoffs, which wasn’t a huge surprise as there were hints galore that cuts were on their way. the day of the layoff felt like an eight-hour funeral, with people huddled in corners, speaking in hushed tones, and wearing darker colors despite the 80-degree weather outside. the good news is that i escaped unscathed (this time), though 500 of my coworkers did not.

there were large meetings held, where the big cheeses sat at the head of a very long conference table, promising nothing about the future. i’ve already been told not to expect much of a raise this year, nor is the profit-sharing bonus my company doles out each June likely considering we made no profits last year.

sorry, Mom and Dad. that raise and bonus were earmarked for your pocket. i guess we’ll all be clipping coupons together at the kitchen table this year. sorry, laid-off coworkers. that totally sucks. i know i’m the lucky one in all this and i don’t take that fact for granted, not even for one second. and i still have hope for 2009. with 11 months to go, it has plenty of time to make up for the shit storm of the past five weeks.

(p.s. i’ve been hustling like a whore in church to find extra freelance work, so if anyone knows/needs help with proofreading/copyediting/copywriting, email me asap! reasonable rates! fast turnaround! references provided! thanks!)

I Don’t Know

because of my job in the wide world of finance, people sometimes assume that i have insight into where the market is going. they think that i might know what makes for a good investment, one that will surely make their riches grow overnight. they think that financial knowledge is transferred through osmosis, maybe by sitting on the same toilet seat as an investment analyst, and that even the janitor who works the night shift probably has some good stock tips. to that i usually reply, “are you fucking stupid?”

if i had those answers, i certainly wouldn’t still be working. i’d be retired, lounging with my off-shore accounts in tahiti while a cabana boy with soccer thighs peeled me grapes and fanned my pasty skin. if i had those answers, i wouldn’t be sitting in a cube farm, pretending to work between youtube videos while counting down the minutes until the clock hits 5pm.

so please stop bothering me with your money questions because i don’t know of any secret investments that will make you a millionaire. and please stop asking me what i do with my own money because i barely have any — i just bought a house, remember? plus, i wouldn’t want to give you any bad financial advice and then feel responsible for your life savings going down the drain. so quit asking me, mom and dad!!

but seriously, i don’t know what the hell is going on anymore than the next person despite my job in finance. but because of my job in finance, i do know that all investments carry a certain degree of risk. i know this because my new role in my company’s compliance department centers on ensuring that the fine print no one but me reads on financial documents says what it needs to say. and if you ever bother to read it, you’d be shocked to find out that it reads, “All investments carry a certain degree of risk. You may lose money.”

ok, so you may lose money. you probably have lost money. i know i have, but since i’m not planning to retire anytime soon, those losses seem more imaginary than real. sadly, i have also lost money on some shorter-term investments i had, losses that very much feel real, but staring at risk language all day helped cushion that blow.

still, i’m not worried. i’m not particularly euphoric either, but i’ve promised myself that i won’t worry until i have a reason to. and as long as i still have a job, i don’t have a reason to worry. of course, i’d be silly to say that my job is totally secure in this climate — or any climate really. but i’ll take comfort in my boss’ assurance that my new spot in the compliance department means i’m a regulator now, and regulators are the new black. people actually want us around to piss on their parade.

as for the lost money, i’m going to rely on that old cliche that if you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. no, that sucks. maybe evaporated earnings are like spilled milk - not worth crying over. that’s a bit better. better still is that all investments carry a certain degree of risk, so you may lose money. and i did.

The House-Hunting Chronicles: The Prequalification

as i tell friends that i’m interested in buying a place, i’m often met with a look that seems to say, “damn, girl, i didn’t realize you made THAT much money!” truth is i don’t make THAT much money. in fact, i barely make THIS much money. and, as counterintuitive as it may seem, my lack of money is the one thing that will make homeownership affordable for me.

pretty much all the first-time homebuyer guides i read through in preparation for this quest said the same thing: check with your state’s housing authority, which provides great incentives for first-timers, to find your mortgage. so i checked and wow — down-payment assistance, gap financing, deferred junior loans and, the deal-sealant, a 40-year fixed mortgage at a below-market rate. and in this ridiculously wealthy county of Los Angeles, my salary places me in the low/moderate income bracket, meaning i qualify.

though that’s not the same as prequalifying for the loan, which can only be achieved through mondo paperwork and a thorough credit check. for my appointment with the mortgage broker specializing in these ghetto loans, i came equipped with documents galore: three years worth of W-2s, tax documents filed with the IRS, pay stubs, IRA account statements, quarterly statements for my investments, checking and savings account documentation, my passport and any other outstanding loan or asset documentation i could provide. then came a blood test, a urine test and a hearing exam, followed by the inner-ear culture, pap smear and rectal swab — concluding with a quiz on Rorschach inkblots.

and then something weird happened. “uh oh,” said the mortgage broker while looking at her computer screen. immediately i froze because nothing is more frightening than hearing “uh oh” from someone about to loan you a bunch of money. “uh oh?” i asked cautiously while trying to clear the quiver out of my throat.

“well,” she began, “part of your mortgage is provided by the state of California and the other part is taken care of by the city of Los Angeles, and it looks like the city ran out of money.” ghetto indeed.

of course the city-sponsored part of my mortgage is the good part — the zero-interest, deferred junior loan, gap financing portion that i only need to repay once the principal mortgage supplied by the state is paid off (in 40 years!), meaning i need that city money BAD. that’s the part that really gives me “purchasing power,” mortgage broker said.

she also said the fund would be replenished by the government, eventually, and that i would need to wait. ok, so now i wait through a subprime mortgage meltdown for the government to pour money into a depleted fund set aside for low-income homebuyers. yeah, i’m sure that’s a real high priority right now.

but wait i will, as i simply have no other choice. mortgage broker assures me it won’t take more than a few months for the new funding to come in, despite her admission that she’s never known this to happen before. in the meantime, i would be put on the wait list, which, yes, is already lengthy.

Nickels & Dimes

if i had a nickel for every time someone told me to exercise caution in what i post here because it might catch up with me at my day job, i could cobble together about thirty cents. yeah, i think i’ve heard that advice about six times. i refuse to heed it and heel to it, however, cus i’m a wild and crazy nonconformist. with a day job. working in finance. corporate as it comes.

i know some work peeps have found this thing and commented to me about it. for all i know, more could be reading -- perhaps during work hours! -- and i could not care less. this is the internet. it’s the most public of spheres, and i’m well aware that anyone can see this. so don’t go telling me to be careful about sharing racy details about my life when i’ve never once mentioned the name of the company i work for nor have i discussed work matters here. keeping this thing going for three years has already required plenty of self-censorship and has turned me into a person with very little shame. and who the hell wants to read a sanitized version of history, with all its wars and famines and struggles omitted? yeah, yeah. i’m all about keeping it real. word to your mother.

march 14 makes one year that i’ve been with my current job and to commemorate the occasion, my boss kindly sat me down and gave me my annual review. seems just like yesterday i was asking the world to congratulate me on my hiring. i definitely made the right choice by taking this job. it’s done much in this past year to get me situated and stable. and, more importantly, it’s allowed me to splurge on new couches, cookware, an iBook, lots of clothes and other assorted goodies.

i love the expression, “work like you don’t need the money.” what bullshit! because if i didn’t need the money, i might stroll in at noon and put my feet up while i used my office line to make long distance phone calls. that’s “working” like you don’t need the money. i work like i need to pay my rent. i work because i prefer lobster to canned tuna. a girl’s gotta eat, and when she’s a single mother of a dog with bad hips, she works because she has to, not because she wants to. with that in mind, i don’t LOVE my job, but i do LIKE it, and that’s enough to keep me there indefinitely.

but back to the review... i was expecting the worst because i’ve spent years conditioning myself to be fatalistic. i walked in a bit nervous and jittery, eager to get to the “merit increase” portion of the program. my boss started by thanking me for the great contribution i’ve made to the company in the past year. i perked up and smiled. he then went on with more thanks and gratitude, talking about my great reputation as someone people like working with because i’m reliable and organized (what? me, organized?!), and that i’ve proved myself to be a quick learner and general badass adored by fans worldwide. then the lights dimmed and he broke into an oddly groovy rendition of m.c. hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This” while i bopped my head approvingly to the beat. even his corporate slacks expanded into parachute pants for the moment.

ok, i’m embellishing that last part, but it had that same feel-good vibe going on. and the feeling good didn’t stop as he told me lots of nice things other people said about me before he announced the smile-inducing percentage that described my merit increase, which is reflected in my next paycheck. the only disappointing part in the litany of lovely adjectives he used to describe me as an employee -- dedicated, hard-working, dependable, diplomatic, good listener -- is that neither he nor anyone else thought i was “funny” or had a “great sense of humor.” i mean, what the fuck?

then we get to the tricky “areas for improvement” portion of the program and i thought to myself, “here it comes.” but that still turned out well, with general suggestions for learning the industry better and becoming a resource to others. and here i was expecting the “we’ve noticed that you don’t ask others about how their weekends went” and “you seem to arrive 10 minutes late every day but still leave at five on the dot.” but nope, only the good stuff.

by the end of it, i’m sure a blush had crossed my face. compliments embarrass me, despite how badly i want to hear them. he ended it by saying, “you fit in so well here. you’re really one of us.” come again? have i joined a corporate circus? how can i be one of them when i’m supposed to be a racy nonconformist? i have my nose pierced, for god’s sake. i was taken aback, but still managed to utter “thank you” through a gritted smile as i left his office.

then it hit me: i’ve morphed into a good employee, the corporate schlub i feared turning into. one step closer to becoming my parents. i have a retirement account with my name on it. i have weekly work meetings i must attend and “action items” i must complete. sometimes the monotony of my days underwhelms me to the point where i feel like stowing myself in the stern of a ship and sailing into a new existence. other times the predictability pleases me immensely.

i don’t mind the real world so much, but the responsibilities of adulthood can be suffocating. turning 30 in june only compounds the matter. oy, these growing pains. a vestige of my once carefree youth would be welcome right about now. on second thought, i think i’d rather have a new car.

Back to Being Broke as a Big Fat Ugly Joke

boo-hoo. poor me, poor me.

alright, i got the requisite whining out and over with. i am bummed, however. i spent the past five weeks working at a place i really loved with people i really liked doing something that was really interesting. i wanted it to continue, got one extension, but alas, i was a measly vacation relief temp and they are once again fully staffed, so my presence wasn't necessary or justifiable. so i was sprung out again, with no promises on when/if i would be called back.

i think i might be called back, but the when part is the problem. and herein lies my dilemma: do i try to find temp stuff to float me in the here and now while i wait for that phone call from my dream job that may never come? or do i just suck it up and start hunting for full-time, permanent employment elsewhere?

obviously, when it comes to job and financial security, the known is better than the unknown. and this very successful media outlet i was temping for -- a place i've loved and respected for years -- is notorious for keeping temps in limbo for years before offering them permanent employment. they know there's a long line at the door; they know only the strong and hungry survive. and here i am with my foot (finally) in the door -- how can i walk away? it won't happen now for me, but maybe eventually. but maybe not. is it worth the gamble?

i'm really not sure, and this quandary has been consuming me for a good month now. it might not be so bad if i could find steady temp stuff that i could just slip away from whenever dream job wanted me back, though that would leave me at their beck and call. i would basically be their bitch. that might be okay with me in the short term, but again, the unreliability of it all, the thinning savings account, the fact that the first student loan bill arrives in november. yet on the other hand, the fact that it's my dream job, a place i've always wanted to work, a best-case scenario that can't be beat, provided things work out in my favor (which they generally don't).

advice?

Broke As a Bad Joke

seriously, though, if Bill Gates is reading this, can you please send me some money? i mean, you probably won't miss it at all given that you're a kazillionaire. and we're not talking THAT much, maybe 10K or 20K, which i can stretch out until i become gainfully employed. is that so unreasonable?

july has been a total wash workwise. no inputting of funds, only output. i've been trying to keep all expenditures at a minimum -- which is challenging, given my party lifestyle. the dorks in culver city i usually work with once a month suddenly had no july budget for me, so there went my greatest chunk of monthly cash. i would often supplement that with the odd copy-editing job found on craigslist, but nope, none of those seem to be working out either. so i've just been dipping into my pathetic little savings account, promising myself that i'll replenish it once the work starts flowing again.

but it makes me nervous. i hate being broke. i pinch pennies, complain about money, eyeball the price of everything. i feel like a punk. i'm not usually a tightwad, despite being jewish. so i've been busy trying to sell my useless shit on craigslist for a bit of extra cash. i sold the never-used doghouse that i was sure juice would love. she was terrified of the thing, never once stepped into it, even after i threw her blanket and countless biscuits into it. and i have someone buying up all the unopened alcohol that was left over from my bday party. i've also lined up an odd job teaching some lady QuarkXpress for a few hours. might have a few other odd jobs lined up for july, as i've gone on a few interviews.

but otherwise, nada, zip, zilch on the dough front. damn, i miss those monthly stipend checks USC used to send me. i would get $1,600 a month just for being a great student -- which, i was, kids: 3.75 GPA upon graduation. isn't there some kind of lifetime scholarship someone can win just for being a great human being? not that i would necessarily qualify, but still.

the good news is that august should hold nothing but work, work, work. i've got a temporary office job lined up for the first three weeks of the month, which is fabulous except for the hours: a ghastly 6am-3pm. and on some afternoons, i'll likely have to skedaddle to culver city to work with aforementioned dorks, who've said they'll need me again next month. ah, nothing like a 12-hour workday to remind you you're alive.

but in the meantime, i've had plenty of idle time to waste. my big purchase for july was an external hard-drive (80 gigs, baby!) for this here iBook, which was becoming ridiculously slow -- like, dial-up slow. so i shifted some stuff around and have been working on importing my 300 CDs into iTunes, which i will hook up to some phat speakers once i get the money to buy them. i've also been spending mornings at runyon canyon park, doing free yoga and going on hikes. afternoons usually hold a long, lazy shower; some homemade grub and coffee; and then lying down with a good book, often in the hammock justin (aka yogaman) kindly bought me for my birthday. evenings generally hold QT with justin on the cheap -- home-cooked dinners, a DVD rental and/or game of scrabble or rummikub. nighttime consists of...well, you can imagine...and then a relaxing sleep. all to be repeated at 9 am when my alarm goes off.

ok, so life's not so bad after all.

Men & Money

i have neither and want both. last week was miserable for dough, as the brakes on my car went out on the way to campus, forcing me to pull into a firestone for $550 worth of repairs. then pablo calls me a few days later to tell me about the bill he got for my cell phone, which i've been using nonstop for the past month: $350. now, of course, this is money i don't have, and which, if i did have, i would use to furnish my barren living room, with its boxes still piled high in the corners.

i've been here a month now, i just paid rent today (another $1,150, all me). seems like the first time i can say a month passed slowly, but i really felt the hours in each day. i'm still trying to sort my shit out, externally and internally. working on it, trying to be all zen, accepting everything without judgment. sometimes i get further than i thought i would, but it's a painstakingly long process. i also have a lot of anger, which i need to process.

i'm proud of myself, though, if i may say. years and years ago, i would have handled things much differently, more recklessly -- been more self-destructive, found solace in a bottle, a little baggy of herb or powder, had unprotected sex with strangers. i didn't give a shit about myself then. the years of self-development and yoga have been good to me, however. i'm more centered, have good perspective, feel strong inside. doesn't mean i don't have my nights when i dust off a full bottle of wine all by lonesome, but that's not every night. and i very much enjoy living alone. true, i get lonely at times, but i deal with it.

which brings me to my next point: dating. i put an online profile out there, somewhere, and i've gotten a few responses. i actually have my first sort-of date tonight. eeeck! just drinks, but it feels completely strange, nerve wracking. and it's not because i like the guy -- truthfully, i couldn't give a shit -- but just the idea of playing the game, doing the mating dance feels so foreign (and a little exciting). i've allowed only one man to touch me in the last four years, so the thought of even letting someone take my hand makes me uneasy. but i'm sure the drinks will help me relax.

i'm obviously not open to crazy entanglements or great affairs -- that is without question. it's more dating for sport, not for love. wanna see what's out there, how it's done, have some fun while still nursing my broken heart. hopefully, it'll be a pleasant distraction, and it could make reading this blog much more enjoyable for you guys, as i'll be sure to report my happenings here. i know i probably should wait a little longer before dipping my toe in the pool, but what the hell? i want to enjoy myself again, i want to feel like a woman. i'm tired of sulking around at home, feeling pathetic.

from 'mary tyler moore' to 'sex and the city.' i'm carrie bradshaw in los angeles, this is my column. i'll take over where she left off.

The Only Stupid Question Is the One Not Asked

it's amazing what you can get out of life just by asking for it. just the other week, i walked into the student services office at my school and asked to be hooked up with one of those super lucrative and highly coveted TA positions. well, none were available, already assigned for the semester and so forth. but a week later, one opened up and i got the call. half of the position has me TAing a class (not doing any actual teaching, though, just grading papers). the class is on entertainment PR, an area i know nothing about. the other half is working 10 hours a week at an organization for journalists. and this is one phat deal, too, as in all my tuition paid for this academic year and a monthly stipend. and all i had to do was ask (well, i sorta begged). if only everything were that easy.

i'll also still keep my once-a-month gig at CFQ. although they agreed to give me more hours, i was never actually needed more than once a month, so provided i have the time, i'll still be going in to copy edit their issues right before they're sent to the printer. this takes about a week, and often includes weekends. so nowadays i have plenty of work (school and other) to keep me occupied.

the bad news is that the chicky i wanted to chair my thesis committee can't make the time this year, so i'm on the hunt for another professor to suffer through it with me. i think i'm set on a topic, but i'll share it at a later date, once things with my committee are finalized.

and in other news, i've updated millatimes.com a bit more, but am far from finishing it. i just wish i knew flash and dreamweaver, photoshop, illustrator -- all that crap. it's just taking so fucking long to do anything because i don't know the software all that well. something that takes three simple keystrokes to do will take me 15 minutes of trial-and-error fiddling. the 'dreamweaver for dummies' book i have could help if i weren't too stubborn to use it. but i have all the photos from my trip all sized correctly and ready to go, i just need to organize them in a way that makes sense. i also have my map of europe done. it took me all friggin weekend to do. eventually, each city title will link to a photo slide show. eventually.