Why couldn't it have been butterflies?

Ian and I were married this past Saturday. I was a nervous wreck right up to the moment I found myself standing in the sun, in front of Ian, who looked so wonderfully handsome. At that moment I relaxed and let it go. I let go of the guilt of not being able to invite everyone in my life. I let go of the confusion brought on by angry feelings expressed from a few people I couldn't invite. I just let all that bullshit go, and quieted my mind and lived in the moment. Right up to the part that boat blasted its horn to celebrate the nuptials.

The weather played well with others, as did the guests. Interesting to see our two families and lives blend together, and trapped on a boat for 3 hours no less. Makes for a great conversation opener. "Say hello there, and welcome to the boat ... Uh, would you like a life jacket?" Or maybe more like, "I heard there's free booze."

The wedding went well, without any hiccups or real problems, though I did specifically state that I didn't want the pineapple wild rice. No one fell off the boat, or fell in general because you know the older I get the older the people in my life are too. My mom is getting closer to finally getting her fucking hip replacement surgery (is there an Olympic event for most stubborn?) so she currently can be fixed. But the doorways, being on a boat and all, sheesh, have a lip to step over, or in my case trip over as often as possible and play it off to the nearest person who saw you trip for the tenth time that you did that to remind everyone to step over that.

Afterward, Ian and I had a room at the downtown Sheraton.
One of my mom's coworkers got us a great upgrade to a corner room in the new tower. The view was straight down Union St. to the water, and then West Seattle beyond. Instead of a closet, the room had a dressing room nook with an armoire and shelves. Okay, I have to admit that was cool. There was also a fuck-ton of rose petals strewn throughout the entire hotel room, including the bathroom and tub. Ian kept telling me stop picking them up but I really couldn't help it. Especially the next morning when they were all severely wilted and brown, and looking like fresh, wet scabs.

Note the mostly consumed chocolate covered strawberries and open champagne bottle in the picture, but more importantly note the flower arrangement. It now sits on my TV stand.

Sometimes It's Hard to be a Woman

4 days from this moment Ian and I will be married. I'm so excited. He is going to be a great husband, and dad. Though my mom still has some reservations, which brought on a firm discussion about Ian not being like my ex at all, or for that matter, Ian is not like most men or women. He's a work in progress, sure! But what man isn't?

I'm not sure why my mom should worry about me getting married for a second time when she herself has been in a second marriage for 28 years, though 13 years ago my mom moved away never to return. She should really get a divorce. But maybe she's scared to be considered a divorcee . . . again. Or maybe she clings to it as part of her identity, though she'd never admit it.

My mom's tough as nails and will chew you up with wit and genius sarcasm, but at the same time she's probably the most sensitive person I know. Even more sensitive then me. In fact, watching how she reacts to some topics and discussions has caused me to look at myself and react differently, resulting in not being highly sensitive.

I love my mom, no question of course, and it pains me while at the same time pisses me off how she's hobbled around for years now fearing surgery, or fearing losing her job, whatever her fear is I want it to show it's fuck-ugly face to me so I can bitch slap it and my mom can get on with doing what's right and more importantly what's necessary. She has a doctor's appointment (FINALLY!) this coming Thursday with an orthopedic surgeon and I bet he takes one look at her wee swollen feet and her x-ray clearly showing no tissue around the hip joint area he'll want to fix her right then and there. Well at the very least, it's what SHOULD happen.

I'm the dude playing a dude disguised as another dude.

I got a job. Yep, a young company down in Tukwila decided I was their woman for the job. Their motto, "We hire personalities, and train skills." Well I've got loads of personality, shiiiiiiiiiiiit!

I will get experience as a staff accountant to utilize my existing skills as well as build new ones. I'm so fucking excited to be able to work with people who want me around.

Now the rub will be the commute. It's about 40 minutes, give or take, from my house to the job. I haven't commuted like that since I lived in Arizona over 11 years ago. Can I do it? Well I think I can do it, I know a lot of other people who make long ass commutes for the sake of a great job. Why should I be any different? It's not like I'm too good to work for awesome people who ask me to sing for my interview. Because if I was feeling that I was too good to go work for these people then I would suddenly find myself acting like the same fuckwad assholes who treated me with hostility and prejudice at some of my previous jobs. And I really just, simply, can't let happen.

You win some, you bruise some

Just got the "volunteers needed" email from the volunteer coordinator for the Rat City Roller Girls, Rebel Belle. Ian will be disappointed, maybe, that he won't be able to direct traffic and wear the fluorescent orange, reflective vest. But the child and I can volunteer, pass out programs like before. Now I know where the extras are, and there are extras. The child will be thrilled, and with Ian gone this weekend on his bachelor excursion to "camp" on Friday Harbor, I'll need the child to have another outlet.

I also heard that I didn't get the Gates Foundation 90-day temp job. I think it would have been a good thing to have on my resume but only 90 days? Ugh, blech, blah, maaaaaaaa...

Yeah, looking for a job is hard fucking work, and I'm lucky to get the support from my family and friends, so it can be doubly shitty to not have anyone to root you on. Even with the love, my morale is lagging. I've done Wii fit less, and I don't even care. All I can think about it is crawling back into bed. I have to work hard to stay out of my bedroom when I'm home. I spend a lot of time online job hunting. The sort of job I need doesn't typically advertise with Help Wanted signs in the window. Nope, most accounting jobs are posted on job boards or managed by a third-party agency. I'm signed up with one of these agencies and the results have been mixed.

The first week I signed up with Accountants, Inc, including driving out to Bellevue to do a meet and greet in person with the temp manager and the direct hire manager, Shane Makanani sent me an email with a job description asking if I was interested in applying for a certain AP position. I read the details and called Shane to personally tell him that "Yes, I'm interested, please submit my resume." So on 7/24/08 I have an interview with two different men for the same AP position; four days later I have a third interview with someone else, and then surprise! A fourth interview with a yet another person. After that a week nearly goes by and Shane, the recruiting agency rep, hasn't contacted me about anything. In fact, I sent him an email after that 3rd and 4th interview letting him know it went well and he didn't even respond to that.

Needless to say, I have to initiate ALL the contact, seriously all of it. It's like being married to Paul again. Unrewarding. I sent Shane an email this morning because it's been since 8/1/08 that I've heard from him, and yes because I sent him a snotty email basically asking him what the hell his problem was and can't he email or what! Today's email wasn't as snotty, but perhaps more so haughty.

Hi Shane,

My name is Jasmine McKenzie and back at the end of July, I had 4 interviews at Sellen. I have not heard from you since Friday, August 1, 2008. I think at this point it is safe to say I did not get the Sellen job. I would like to hear from you still, possibly provide feedback if there is any. I'm not sure why you feel no need to communicate with me, but I promise that I won't bother you any more if you could just give me some feedback from the time I spent at Sellen. Thanks!

--- Jasmine McKenzie

Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

I've been doing quite a few interviews lately, to no avail, but this has provided me an opportunity to really hone my skills at bullshitting my talents. I'm not telling them things like I invented the internet or I have a sex tape of Chris Farley (I really don't). But I have been interviewing with several different personality types who have to be handled differently aacoridng to their own specifications. A different cadence of speech, or age, or dress and demeanor.

It all makes me feel like a schmuck and reminds me that I like my drama most when it comes from the TV.