Shoot me.
No really, seriously, somebody shoot me. Not to blatantly steal from Adam Sandler, but put a bullet in my head. This cough ... *sigh* I gotta admit that I think it's some kind of respiratory infection. I've had a couple before.
The first one I ever recall getting was from the first time I was arrested. The Phoenix jail was concrete and metal, with nothing resembling civility. It was more like a holding tank to truck off people to faraway places to dig tunnels for diamond mine owners. Actually that makes it sound a wee bit glamorous. The cops working the jail were so hideous in personality I felt sure that wrong people were locked up. After my inital arrest and processing, before being taken to lock up in the main downtown municipal tank, a female cop strip-searched me. She looked more like a gym teacher then a cop, well she looked like an angry gym teacher in a cop's uniform. She certainly reminded me of a teacher the way she demeaned me in regards to my tattoos. I couldn't be sure if she really meant what she was saying but neverless she was saying them. Her snide tone drawed out certain words. She confessed to the heavens that I was either stupid or a satan worhsipper. It really was ridiculous what she was saying, stuff one could easily brush off by waving a hand at someone like shooing away a fly. Except I was standing wearing only my bra and undies in a room with a complete stranger.
That gym teacher cop woman has reappeared a few times through my working life. She's reared her ugly head as a boss of mine at least four time, that I can think of. Well, it now seems she's rearing it a fifth time.
My boss called me into her office Thursday and in no uncertain terms told me I pissed her off. Those words. I was floored. My boss removed her glasses and crossed her arms, tilting back in her chair to glare at me, I shit you not, she said, "You really pissed me off earlier."
I felt my eyes widen and my bottom lip suck itself in so as not to saying anything. But I was truly taken off guard by this and so remaining contrite was a survival tactic. I think. Just the week before she told me, "Everyone loves you!" So what happened to the fuckin' love?
It suddenly seems that I'm not pulling my weight and that I should be further along in my tasks since starting my job 3 weeks ago. She was real uppity about it too. The expression "Shit rolls down hill" came to mind and I figured her boss (the controller) was getting in her face about month end stuff. But still I sat there with my snack of pre-packaged carrots and dip, fiddling the cello wrap corner, looking around, waiting for it to end. My boss went on to tell me that I don't seem happy so something's wrong because it's important that I'm happy. I need to exude friendliness and happiness regardless how I truly feel. It was such hypocritical bullshit that I began to wonder if she was crazy.
The company culture that was sold to me during my two interviews was about family first, work hard and playing hard, open-minded, march to our own beat, none of that corporate environment crap here! Okay, I don't want to be a total bitch and say these things aren't there. They're just not there for me. I feel so fuckin' duped and cheated my dislike for the place and my job cemented within those mere 10 or so minutes my boss tore me down. It had already started developing a week or so prior when I was told one of my new duties was to be a second back-up for the receptionist. And even though there is a guy working in the same Admin deptartment I am he does not have this responsibility. Only women do.
The next day my boss sent me this long email reiterating everything she spoke about the previous day. She needs to see improvement, there needs to be communication, I need to have follow through and be a go getter and take charge but be nice about it. She listed my duties in detail. I printed up the whole thing and stuck it on my cubicle wall. I highlighted the duties and prepared a to-do list from it. I spent the rest of my day, including my lunch, working on projects that suddenly were past due or overdue or coming due. Yes, pretty much everything. I'm also not allowed to use the internet at all except for lunchbreaks, to which I shall refrain from using even then. When she had me in her office she stated that in the span of 3 hours I had only processed 15 or so invoices. She demanded to know from me if I thought that was right. I stammered, one would having their merit called into question so rudely. I said, "No, no I did other stuff. I helped the controller with a few more inventory recounts."
"Yeah," she said as she shrugged with indifference, "but that was only like 20 minutes."
I was put on the spot and felt like that near naked 21 year old again, standing in a room with an insensitive angry stranger.
The amount of drama I've experienced lately is not something I'm use to. Last week's double dose of shitty drama and then my boss humbling me are just more then this only child can fuckin' take.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
"We don't need no stinkin' badges!"
I was included in this email from the AR Specialist to the IT tech guy here at work,
Hi,
The receptionist will be on vacation from 10/2 – 10/6. I’ll be sitting up front the majority of the time but when I’m not, Jasmine will need to be sitting up front and will need Remote Desktop access just like I have so she has the ability to do her work from Jen’s computer.
Will you please get her all set up prior to 10/2?
The receptionist will be on vacation from 10/2 – 10/6. I’ll be sitting up front the majority of the time but when I’m not, Jasmine will need to be sitting up front and will need Remote Desktop access just like I have so she has the ability to do her work from Jen’s computer.
Will you please get her all set up prior to 10/2?
Yay! Just what I was hoping for, to be in the receptionist role, again! It was sooooooooooo fulfilling when I was doing it at CarDomain. I can only hope that this time around it will be equally fulfilling.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
"What we've got here is failure to communicate."
The child's due for some boots. The season has shifted causing a need to shop. It's a nice Saturday with hardly a chill in the air yet the sun is shining like a motherfucker, so this should put people in a good mood, especially those that like the sun. Or so I hoped and thought.
The child and I made our way out of the driveway and down the street made most narrow by all the cars parked along both sides. The first intersection has no stop signs yet I'm a freak and I stop (in fact, I stop everytime, there's just too many large vehicles parked that visibility is an idea more then a reality). We proceed through and make our way down to the end of the next block, which is where there is a stop sign and I plan on turning left.
I'm driving pretty damn slow, which is good because when the lady with the stroller pops out of the last driveway on the right I can make a solid stop. Stroller woman hesitates, squinting at me (I think), squinting as she looks up and across the street. I watch her cross the street and keep an eye on her because I'm just not sure why she's pushing her stroller into the street. I stop at the stop sign and I notice the jogger.
I notice the jogger because she's glaring at me and flipping me off. I roll my window down and say, "Excuse me?" To which the jogger replies, "Look both ways!" over her shoulder.
The jogger went around the back of the car to cross the street even though I hadn't pulled far enough up to the stop sign to block the sidewalk. Stroller woman is now also at the corner, still squinting I might add, and even the angry jogger has to go around her.
For some reason I'm compelled to tell the jogger that I was looking out for the confused woman with the stroller. The jogger replies with yet another finger. Look, I like flipping people off obviously as much as this crazy jogger but at some point you gotta stop. So the jogger jogs on, and I sit at the stop sign waiting for it to be safe and clear so I can pull out and make my left.
We drive by the jogger and I shout out my window, "Have a nice day!" Not surprising, she flips me off again, twice. "Thanks for flipping me and my kid off!" More of the finger. My smile drops, I hit the brakes and flip a bitch in the middle of the road. I pull into the alley entrance that the jogger is approaching and roll my window down again.
I'm not sure why I felt so fucking compelled to plead my case with this woman. As she approaches and removes her earplugs I say, "Look lady, no matter how much you jog you're an ugly person. The stroller lady popped out into the road moments before you crossed, I was concerned. Besides you can't just run across the road, why would you do that?"
"You need to look both ways! Get over yourself!" was the jogger's retort, which she repeated at least three times like a broken toy.
The moment left me and we parted. It wasn't thrilling to swing in on her and make my case, and still as I type this I'm uncertain why I would ever bother.
We finally arrived at Fred Meyer, which is only say 10 blocks away from home, and park. As the child and I stand at the back of our car to remove some resuable grocery bags the silver minivan next to us starts to pull out, much to the dismay of the green minivan already backing out behind it. The driver of the green minivan starts to honk furiously and the silver minivan driver stops and stares at me. I point to the van behind her and she pulls back into the parking space. Once the green minivan is fully backed out of the parking spot the driver starts honking aggressively again while the green minivan's passenger beats on the window and shakes a fist at the old lady driving the silver minivan. The child and I stand there watching it all.
"Hey okay, she gets it! Fuck off!" I shout at the green minivan. To which the green minivan's passenger opens her door and shouts at me to fuck off as well. See now, I've been sick for while and now I've got this horrid cold sore on my lip, plus my mind's tired and perplexed about my life in general so please do not be alarmed to know that this was the last straw.
The child and I got back in the car and I just sat there. I wanted to start bawling, tears did come up and just before they flowed there was a knock on my window. A woman who saw the altercation was there with a smile on her face. I turned on the car and put the window down.
"Good for you! Don't let those people get to you, you did the right thing."
I must've looked a bit shellshocked because she put her hand on my hand, which I hadn't realized I had rested on the window ledge until then. I told her that was the 2nd person to yell at me today. "I'm just gonna go home and try again later." She smiled at that, told me have a better day and, "I'm sorry that happened," before she went on her way.
I remained in the car for another 5, maybe 10 minutes before I got my shit together and went in. I certainly didn't want to come back later and that last lady's supportive, kind words, plus her sincere smile helped a lot. I apologized to the child for witnessing both outbreaks of drama.
The child patted me and said, "It's okay, at least we weren't driving a Subaru, then we'd be the assholes."
The child and I made our way out of the driveway and down the street made most narrow by all the cars parked along both sides. The first intersection has no stop signs yet I'm a freak and I stop (in fact, I stop everytime, there's just too many large vehicles parked that visibility is an idea more then a reality). We proceed through and make our way down to the end of the next block, which is where there is a stop sign and I plan on turning left.
I'm driving pretty damn slow, which is good because when the lady with the stroller pops out of the last driveway on the right I can make a solid stop. Stroller woman hesitates, squinting at me (I think), squinting as she looks up and across the street. I watch her cross the street and keep an eye on her because I'm just not sure why she's pushing her stroller into the street. I stop at the stop sign and I notice the jogger.
I notice the jogger because she's glaring at me and flipping me off. I roll my window down and say, "Excuse me?" To which the jogger replies, "Look both ways!" over her shoulder.
The jogger went around the back of the car to cross the street even though I hadn't pulled far enough up to the stop sign to block the sidewalk. Stroller woman is now also at the corner, still squinting I might add, and even the angry jogger has to go around her.
For some reason I'm compelled to tell the jogger that I was looking out for the confused woman with the stroller. The jogger replies with yet another finger. Look, I like flipping people off obviously as much as this crazy jogger but at some point you gotta stop. So the jogger jogs on, and I sit at the stop sign waiting for it to be safe and clear so I can pull out and make my left.
We drive by the jogger and I shout out my window, "Have a nice day!" Not surprising, she flips me off again, twice. "Thanks for flipping me and my kid off!" More of the finger. My smile drops, I hit the brakes and flip a bitch in the middle of the road. I pull into the alley entrance that the jogger is approaching and roll my window down again.
I'm not sure why I felt so fucking compelled to plead my case with this woman. As she approaches and removes her earplugs I say, "Look lady, no matter how much you jog you're an ugly person. The stroller lady popped out into the road moments before you crossed, I was concerned. Besides you can't just run across the road, why would you do that?"
"You need to look both ways! Get over yourself!" was the jogger's retort, which she repeated at least three times like a broken toy.
The moment left me and we parted. It wasn't thrilling to swing in on her and make my case, and still as I type this I'm uncertain why I would ever bother.
We finally arrived at Fred Meyer, which is only say 10 blocks away from home, and park. As the child and I stand at the back of our car to remove some resuable grocery bags the silver minivan next to us starts to pull out, much to the dismay of the green minivan already backing out behind it. The driver of the green minivan starts to honk furiously and the silver minivan driver stops and stares at me. I point to the van behind her and she pulls back into the parking space. Once the green minivan is fully backed out of the parking spot the driver starts honking aggressively again while the green minivan's passenger beats on the window and shakes a fist at the old lady driving the silver minivan. The child and I stand there watching it all.
"Hey okay, she gets it! Fuck off!" I shout at the green minivan. To which the green minivan's passenger opens her door and shouts at me to fuck off as well. See now, I've been sick for while and now I've got this horrid cold sore on my lip, plus my mind's tired and perplexed about my life in general so please do not be alarmed to know that this was the last straw.
The child and I got back in the car and I just sat there. I wanted to start bawling, tears did come up and just before they flowed there was a knock on my window. A woman who saw the altercation was there with a smile on her face. I turned on the car and put the window down.
"Good for you! Don't let those people get to you, you did the right thing."
I must've looked a bit shellshocked because she put her hand on my hand, which I hadn't realized I had rested on the window ledge until then. I told her that was the 2nd person to yell at me today. "I'm just gonna go home and try again later." She smiled at that, told me have a better day and, "I'm sorry that happened," before she went on her way.
I remained in the car for another 5, maybe 10 minutes before I got my shit together and went in. I certainly didn't want to come back later and that last lady's supportive, kind words, plus her sincere smile helped a lot. I apologized to the child for witnessing both outbreaks of drama.
The child patted me and said, "It's okay, at least we weren't driving a Subaru, then we'd be the assholes."
Saturday, September 20, 2008
"Luuuuuccceeeeeeeeee! I'm home!"
I'm having the hardest time getting this post started. I've been sitting here for at least ten minutes just trying to title the damn thing.
I know I want to talk about the revelation about my new job. I know I want to discuss how utterly appalling it is to me, but I just can't seem to get my mind to simmer down now and focus. The predominant male culture of the company I now work for believe only women should answer the main incoming business phone line. I am now one of three women (there's the receptionist and the AR Specialist) who is meant to do this on a regular basis. My title is Staff Accountant.
I've been working for over 22 years and I'm still having to put up with prejudice bullshit and narrow-mindedness. This is not the company culture that was sold to me during my two interviews. The 50s a-woman's-got-her-place mentality just does not sit well with me at all. I'm all fidgety as I type this. I couldn't sleep-in today like I like to on Saturday mornings because I fucking deserve it.
I can't seem to get a break.
And then on the other side of that, I feel like shit for even bitching about this job. They way I lost my last job though ...
Well, suffice it to say I'm not going to apologize for being who I am. It's becoming increasingly harder and harder to compromise myself for other people who don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves. It's just becoming harder for me to be nice and friendly and interested when I get nothing in kind back, muchless a response.
So yeah, okay, maybe the 50s culture will suit me when I decide to finally say "Fuck it all!" and turn into a zombie like everyone else. I'll ignore you and only pander to my base needs and wants. I'll be icy and false. I won't want to know you or be your friend. I won't care.
*shakes head*
Oh man ... c'mon, I can't do that. I can't be that kind of hideous, humorless, asshole. It would be easy, don't get me wrong to be like everyone else. But I couldn't ulitmately live with myself.
I think what I really need to do is stop caring about what other people think of me. I like smiling and being friendly and outgoing. I also, in truth, like to flip people off and swear a lot, but only when the moment calls for it and someone's bring a douchebag. But my point is I like not being cold and unapproachable. I like being nicer then most people, because I don't want to be like most people, especially if they're so horrid.
I know I want to talk about the revelation about my new job. I know I want to discuss how utterly appalling it is to me, but I just can't seem to get my mind to simmer down now and focus. The predominant male culture of the company I now work for believe only women should answer the main incoming business phone line. I am now one of three women (there's the receptionist and the AR Specialist) who is meant to do this on a regular basis. My title is Staff Accountant.
I've been working for over 22 years and I'm still having to put up with prejudice bullshit and narrow-mindedness. This is not the company culture that was sold to me during my two interviews. The 50s a-woman's-got-her-place mentality just does not sit well with me at all. I'm all fidgety as I type this. I couldn't sleep-in today like I like to on Saturday mornings because I fucking deserve it.
I can't seem to get a break.
And then on the other side of that, I feel like shit for even bitching about this job. They way I lost my last job though ...
Well, suffice it to say I'm not going to apologize for being who I am. It's becoming increasingly harder and harder to compromise myself for other people who don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves. It's just becoming harder for me to be nice and friendly and interested when I get nothing in kind back, muchless a response.
So yeah, okay, maybe the 50s culture will suit me when I decide to finally say "Fuck it all!" and turn into a zombie like everyone else. I'll ignore you and only pander to my base needs and wants. I'll be icy and false. I won't want to know you or be your friend. I won't care.
*shakes head*
Oh man ... c'mon, I can't do that. I can't be that kind of hideous, humorless, asshole. It would be easy, don't get me wrong to be like everyone else. But I couldn't ulitmately live with myself.
I think what I really need to do is stop caring about what other people think of me. I like smiling and being friendly and outgoing. I also, in truth, like to flip people off and swear a lot, but only when the moment calls for it and someone's bring a douchebag. But my point is I like not being cold and unapproachable. I like being nicer then most people, because I don't want to be like most people, especially if they're so horrid.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
"Without lamps there'd be no light!"
A week into the new job and all is well. My immediate supervisor is a busy woman resulting in a very hands off approach. But I am picking up on things, and luckily the company is pretty small so I shouldn't have too hard a time remembering who's who and all. Eveyone is friendly, and the company provides a ridiculous amount of free beverages. I took mean advantage of that with regards to the OJ as my week progressed.
Yes, I was getting sick. And yes, I am currently fighting off a mild, dare I say low grade cold. Ian's turned into a sinus infection requiring a trip to the doctor for antibiotics, and then a call to the doctor a few days later when no symptoms had really subsided yet chest pain had begun. I've been feeding my system a constant diet of Alka Seltzer, Sudafed, Tylenol (PM in the evenings), Bendryl, and generic Musinex all week. I'm like Hunter S. Thompson with over the counter cold meds. Pathetic.
Today was supposed to be a frolic in the sun at the Puyallup Fair, but in all honesty I shouldn't have even left the house. I really wanted to spend some time with the child, and she's been wanting to go to the fair for a few years now. Her school hands out passes every year, and every year I manage to poo poo the idea. The mere suggestion of doing things like attending a fair make me yearn for a mom friend.
And I only realized this weekend, driving out to Puyallup in lame ass traffic, only to scrap the plan because I was feeling quite shitty. If I had a mom friend I could've had someone to interact with me, and the child would have a friend along to really enjoy what she wanted to. I don't know anyone like that and just today I found out that it's something I've been wanting for a long time.
I have mom friends out of state that when I converse with them and hear about the family vacation or weekend I get all bummed that I couldn't have been there to witness it first hand. Or be a part of it. I now its silly and childish to feel this way and I don't care.
Yes, I was getting sick. And yes, I am currently fighting off a mild, dare I say low grade cold. Ian's turned into a sinus infection requiring a trip to the doctor for antibiotics, and then a call to the doctor a few days later when no symptoms had really subsided yet chest pain had begun. I've been feeding my system a constant diet of Alka Seltzer, Sudafed, Tylenol (PM in the evenings), Bendryl, and generic Musinex all week. I'm like Hunter S. Thompson with over the counter cold meds. Pathetic.
Today was supposed to be a frolic in the sun at the Puyallup Fair, but in all honesty I shouldn't have even left the house. I really wanted to spend some time with the child, and she's been wanting to go to the fair for a few years now. Her school hands out passes every year, and every year I manage to poo poo the idea. The mere suggestion of doing things like attending a fair make me yearn for a mom friend.
And I only realized this weekend, driving out to Puyallup in lame ass traffic, only to scrap the plan because I was feeling quite shitty. If I had a mom friend I could've had someone to interact with me, and the child would have a friend along to really enjoy what she wanted to. I don't know anyone like that and just today I found out that it's something I've been wanting for a long time.
I have mom friends out of state that when I converse with them and hear about the family vacation or weekend I get all bummed that I couldn't have been there to witness it first hand. Or be a part of it. I now its silly and childish to feel this way and I don't care.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Just an Earthbound misfit.
You ever feel more then the sum of your parts? Your being? Feel your energy rise up from your skin? Have you ever looked up into the night sky and was lucky enough to see stars? Those stars eminating light from millions of years ago. Ago. As in from the past. I hope to be able to shine as brightly from the past when I'm long dead. Heck, not even long dead, just dead.
Life is really, and at times awkwardly, about moments. That moment you stare up into the night sky, able to see the fuzziness of our own galaxy in which our planet hangs magically in. That's a moment to be still and quiet for because it will allow you to handle other moments in life, those moments not so peaceful and sure. I'm sure for some it comes down to maturity and perspective, but at the end of the day, at the end of the universe, which is going to be a better memory?
Ian and I will have many excellent memories of our honeymoon. We were fortunate enough to be able to afford a 4 day stint in Maui, and along with some money gifts from the wedding we could also treat ourselves to a snorkeling excursion. I had thought about it for years, and Ian voiced excitement into wanting to do it too. The catamaran came onto the beach and single-file we ascended a little metal ladder between the twin hulls. We sailed north for about 45 minutes or so. The motion did jar me a bit but with the ocean spraying up through the net I was sitting on and the massive breeze I felt great. It even made me not feel my sunburn. Well almost.
We snorkled for at least 90 minutes, and afterwards enjoyed a really good hot meal on the boat. I had sustain more burning on top of my sunburn and by the end of the meal was itching to get out of my swim suit top. I went below to change and that's when the trouble started. The boat was backing out of Honolua Bay, for the most part, and the swells were intense when experienced from below. My nausea was stubborn and stuck with me the entire 90 minte ride back to the hotel, even after I puked over board. Hey, better out then in, yeah? The crew and ship owner were incredibly helpful and charming about the whole thing. Ian too. He held me the entire trip back, except for a few moments to take some photos.
Some other memories we'll have thanks in large part to family and friends donating money is a great dinner at Mama's Fish House and the Feast at Lele luau. Mama's Fish House is located a mile or so outside of Pa'ia, heading towards Hana. It's expensive but so damn tasty and good and filling that once in a lifetime is worth it. Ron, the bartender, made a new fan out of Ian by doing "talk story" about Teddy Roosevelt and tequila bottles designed by Chanel. Our Server, Heidi, was fantastic, helfpul, and courteous. Every bit of our food was magical and required picture taking. Ian's panang curry was loaded with ahi, opah, and mahimahi, while I just had the opah entree with soy glaze and avocado. It's all about the freshness there. They don't print up the menu until 45 minutes prior to opening their doors for dinner.
Last, the luau was incredible. I had so much fun, and it was indeed a masterful show complete with singing, dancing, narration, conch-shell tooting, costume changes, and loads of drinks and food. The fire-knife dancer at the end was intense and looked like he would at any moment leap off the stage and stab one of the white people in the front row. But I was okay with that, since we were sitting about two rows back. We had two servers, both men, that wore native sarongs and woven leaf hats and leaves adorned in their hair. We were made to feel welcome, and after the dance finale the dancers roamed the crowd to take pictures and thank us. By then I had a decent buzz going on and I couldn't help the smile plastered on my face. We've been spoiled and wouldn't dream or dare to go to some buffet luau with 500 guests.
Life is really, and at times awkwardly, about moments. That moment you stare up into the night sky, able to see the fuzziness of our own galaxy in which our planet hangs magically in. That's a moment to be still and quiet for because it will allow you to handle other moments in life, those moments not so peaceful and sure. I'm sure for some it comes down to maturity and perspective, but at the end of the day, at the end of the universe, which is going to be a better memory?
Ian and I will have many excellent memories of our honeymoon. We were fortunate enough to be able to afford a 4 day stint in Maui, and along with some money gifts from the wedding we could also treat ourselves to a snorkeling excursion. I had thought about it for years, and Ian voiced excitement into wanting to do it too. The catamaran came onto the beach and single-file we ascended a little metal ladder between the twin hulls. We sailed north for about 45 minutes or so. The motion did jar me a bit but with the ocean spraying up through the net I was sitting on and the massive breeze I felt great. It even made me not feel my sunburn. Well almost.
We snorkled for at least 90 minutes, and afterwards enjoyed a really good hot meal on the boat. I had sustain more burning on top of my sunburn and by the end of the meal was itching to get out of my swim suit top. I went below to change and that's when the trouble started. The boat was backing out of Honolua Bay, for the most part, and the swells were intense when experienced from below. My nausea was stubborn and stuck with me the entire 90 minte ride back to the hotel, even after I puked over board. Hey, better out then in, yeah? The crew and ship owner were incredibly helpful and charming about the whole thing. Ian too. He held me the entire trip back, except for a few moments to take some photos.
Some other memories we'll have thanks in large part to family and friends donating money is a great dinner at Mama's Fish House and the Feast at Lele luau. Mama's Fish House is located a mile or so outside of Pa'ia, heading towards Hana. It's expensive but so damn tasty and good and filling that once in a lifetime is worth it. Ron, the bartender, made a new fan out of Ian by doing "talk story" about Teddy Roosevelt and tequila bottles designed by Chanel. Our Server, Heidi, was fantastic, helfpul, and courteous. Every bit of our food was magical and required picture taking. Ian's panang curry was loaded with ahi, opah, and mahimahi, while I just had the opah entree with soy glaze and avocado. It's all about the freshness there. They don't print up the menu until 45 minutes prior to opening their doors for dinner.
Ahi and kampaci sashimi with daikon and homegrown wasabi.
Soy glaze Opah with chutney and avocado.
Opah, Ahi, and MahiMahi Panang Curry.
Last, the luau was incredible. I had so much fun, and it was indeed a masterful show complete with singing, dancing, narration, conch-shell tooting, costume changes, and loads of drinks and food. The fire-knife dancer at the end was intense and looked like he would at any moment leap off the stage and stab one of the white people in the front row. But I was okay with that, since we were sitting about two rows back. We had two servers, both men, that wore native sarongs and woven leaf hats and leaves adorned in their hair. We were made to feel welcome, and after the dance finale the dancers roamed the crowd to take pictures and thank us. By then I had a decent buzz going on and I couldn't help the smile plastered on my face. We've been spoiled and wouldn't dream or dare to go to some buffet luau with 500 guests.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
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.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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 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.
Monday, August 18, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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
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
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