Fat Arm Revolution!

The Maiden Metallurgist wrote (another) inspiring post today about the tendency girls have to follow a compliment they received by putting themselves down.

For example:

Person: "Your hair looks great today!"
Girl: "Really? But look! My fat rolls are immigrating past the waistband of my jeans faster than a refugee."

Read the post here, then come back!

She finished her post with a call to action. She invited her readers to leave a comment including 3 things they loved about themselves. I left a comment and I'm not going to lie, it made me feel uncomfortable. Finding three things I loved about myself felt like I was running a mile. I stalled at number 2. Not a good sign. But once I finished, I felt empowered! I wanted to shake my big beautiful booty all over the city of Oakland, demanding, "LOVE this booty! I do!"

I want to keep the empowering energy that she started going, so READERS: A CALL TO ACTION IS UPON YOU!

You're all amazing in numerous ways. Leave a comment here with 3 things (or more!) that you like about yourself. Damnit, just do it. It'll make you feel happy.

Here, I'll start:

1. I like that I obsess about weird things, like Night Cheese and Murder Trains
2. I HAVE A BEAUTIFUL BOOTY
3. My fingernails look naturally manicured, long and perfectly shaped.

YOUR TURN! Readers, please. It would be super depressing if only one of you commented. Come out of the woodwork, and do it for yourself!

Maddie. Blythe. Emma. Claire. Pop Culture Librarian: you ladies, too!

Lazy

I could write about developing an (imagined) heart condition from waiting to hear whether I got Dream Job, or I could watch Biggest Loser and eat the Halloween cookies Emma made me.

Me: "I want to watch Biggest Loser."
LBO: "Biggest Loser isn't on. Do you mean, 'Biggest Loser 8: Second Chances'?"

Hilarious.

P.S. Stella says hello.

Effing Hilarious

I read hundreds of blog posts a day. It's something I enjoy doing, it carries no shame for me, but because I digest so many it takes something truly spectacular to make me laugh.

Today I found: The Effing Librarian

I know some of my readers already love "Librarian Blogs" but this one you have to check out.

He made this for God's sake:

p.s. Happy Halloween

Commense Permanent Squeels

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL.

There's no other combination of words to describe my feelings right now. Because this happened:



Presenting Oliver and Stella. Aka Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan and Puffball Princess of My Heart. They are six and five months old, approximately, and I am utterly besotted.

These were the kittens I fell in love with 2 weeks ago at a mobile pet adoption by our house. LBo and I chanced upon it and spent 20 minutes mooning in front of these two like lovesick fools. At that time I hadn't gotten my interview at the Dream Job, and I didn't know my work schedule at the Suck Job, so we couldn't adopt without fear that we'd end up as the homeless couple using their adorable cats to encourage financial hand outs. And even if I get Dream Job, and I am financially secure for the first time in my life, I think it'll take a long time to erase that fear.

Anyway, hours became more stable at Suck Job, and my second interview went positively at Dream Job (No word yet on whether I got it or not, will hear by this Friday, but in the meantime the anxiety feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest), so we took the plunge and these little fur patterns of sunshine came to our door. How little Stella didn't get adopted by someone else, I'll never know, because ummmm who doesn't look at her blue-eyed puffball of a self and fall immediately in love?

I'll tell you straight up, LBo and I have become the cat couple. You know, the ones who say "Oh look! Oliver's pooping!" and spend 5 hours at the pet food store and never stop talking about their cats. LBo thinks the infatuation will diminish in a week or two, but I foresee a long haul of utter devotion. He already taught Ollie a trick: when he bends down and snaps his fingers, Ollie will jump on his back. I can already tell he'll be the cat I put on Icanhascheezburger the most.

So. Kittens are in my life once again: my brain is quieter, my heart is more full and my couch is covered in cat hair. Contented sigh.

Across the Nation, Around the World

What if I told you that there was a loop of words going through my brain and those words were, "Everybody wang chung tonight."

What if I told you yesterday I got called for not one, but two phone interviews? Would you say to me, "I hope you wang chunged that night?" The answer would be: absolutely. No wang went un-chunged.

What if I told you one of the phone interviews was for the job I wanted most? Well, tied at the top with SFMOMA. What if I told you that the phone interview went really well, and I think they liked me, and they asked me a lot about my photography, and who doesn't want a job that's interested in your art? Would you call out a "Wang chung" in my honor?

This is beginning to sound like an Alanis Morrisette song, but with more wang.

The moral of the story is things are getting a little less stinky around here, and a lot more peachy.

One Month

Here's the situation, exactly one month into my California residency: my life is a basket of moldy peaches.

Most days, I wake up at 11:30 and watch tv with Lbo (official new blog name for my boyfriend). Then he leaves for work and I spend the rest of the day and evening scouring the internet for jobs, friends and an anchor for my floating sense of self. I stare out the window a lot, talking to my friend Masky. His fur pattern makes it look like he's wearing a mask. I have another friend, Lulu; she's a long-haired, cross-eyed Siamese who often hides under the car.

It's colder than I'd like it to be, what with this being CALIFORNIA and all, and I have this theory that I left my body in Wisconsin. You see, it's snowing there, and my level of cold right now parallels the feeling one might have standing naked in a snowy corn field. I left my body in Wisconsin; all Oakland sees is a floating head with eyes.

Might I add an empty head, because I don't feel present. I feel rootless. No, I don't want to go back to Wisconsin: in fact, I don't miss it at all until I start remembering my favorite places, and what it feels like to know where you are at all times. I miss my family all the time, but rarely the city. No, I don't want to move back, but this isn't home either.

Hope hasn't completely fled my mind like spooked birds from a bell tower, though. I still believe I will eventually find a full time job I want. Once that happens, and I mean five minutes after I accept the position, I will be sprinting towards the Humane Society. Part of my imbalance now is that I'm cat-less. I haven't been more than a mile away from my pets since I was eleven years old, and all that energy my cats used to so nicely absorb is turning me into an obsessive schizophrenic on too much cold medicine. Sad, but true. I manage my OCD pretty well in all other areas of my life, but there's something about cats that make it so hilariously intense that it effects my ability to function.

So: A basket of moldy peaches. Far away, everything looks nice, but up close, things are starting to stink.

Interview from Hell

I just got home from my first interview for a real adult job, one with paid vacations and health insurance. The call came while I wrote my last blog post, the one where I talked about how unemployment was the needle to my self-esteem balloon. The interview was for a random job I applied for three weeks ago; I had completely forgotten about it. Anyway, this weekend my head filled with dreams of a steady paycheck and I was excited for an opportunity to have a conversation that didn't include telling someone I had been in sweatpants for the past 48 hours.

Fast forward to now: I'm eating an entire box of macaroni and cheese and listening to Radiohead. Can you guess how it went?

I was interviewed by a man and a woman, and when they found out I was from Wisconsin, the man asked me to guess where he was from.

"Wisconsin?" I asked.
"Nope."
"Chicago?"
"No."
"Minnesota?"
"No." Silence.
"...Michigan?"
"No."
"...Iowa?"
"No."
"The Dakotas?"
"Yeah. Guess which one."
"...South?"
"No."
"North?"
"Yeah. Bismark."

OH. OF COURSE. BISMARK! HOW SILLY OF ME! I go to Bismark ALL THE TIME being from MADISON, WISCONSIN, 15 hours away! Bismark! My favorite weekend destination!

I mean, making a person guess over three times is a little excessive, am I wrong? And true, he didn't say "keep guessing" explicitly, but by his silence, it was obvious he expected me to continue until I got it.

The rest of the interview maintained it's status as a slow moving catastrophe. Numerous times they told me this was both a stressful position and a job "anyone could do." That's right, I do remember "trained monkey" in the job posting.

The man, who owned the company and was responsible for 80% of the dick-holery of this interview, asked me, "Do you have common sense? You know, there's a saying 'Common sense isn't so common.'" So I gave him an example my common sense, and when I finished he asked, "But...do you have common sense?" And then words came out from his mouth but I couldn't hear them past the thick veil of deafening rage in my ears. "So, if you have common sense, you say right, and blah blah blah blah," to which I replied, "Right..." because I wasn't following his ego-trip mania. He responded to that by laughing in my face. "That was a trick question," he said. I could feel myself close to tears and just stared at him, hoping he would come to the realization independently that he was a grotesque fool with no sense of humor or decency.

I mean, right? Who asks trick questions during an interview and laughs in your face?

Near the end, my tolerance for condescension ended and I said bluntly, "Look. I know how to handle stress. I spent three hours in a small room with seven kids with autism who screamed and hit me. I was a full time student and worked two, sometimes three, jobs simultaneously. Yes, I know how to handle stress."

Instead of being humbled, though, they pounced and asked me to be the Official Spokesperson for Autism. "I read in the newspaper today one in one hundred kids is diagnosed with autism. What causes it? I think they're just over-diagnosing it. But really, why is this happening? Vaccines or over diagnosis or what?"

I stared blankly.

This moment was one of the 2,349 times I imagined walking out of that office with my middle finger raised.

I can't even write about how furious that made me. I understand curiosity, but they weren't really interested in an intellectual discussion about autism. They wanted the dirt. I have no tolerance for that.

When they released me from their ignorant, humorless trap, I ran to the bus. Please tell me all adult jobs aren't this way. Otherwise, I'll gladly take retail for the rest of my life.

Finally, right?

There was nothing life-altering about our great American road trip. Well, except for Nebraska, of which I was oddly enamored, probably because as we drove West, the sun set, dripping everything with a rich gold, making the greens look olive and my heels itch to run through the miles of flat, honeyed plains. See? Totally in love with Nebraska. Wyoming was Hell's Mistress, though: even thinking of that portion of the drive makes my stomach sour.

Late into our second day of driving we decided to keep going through the night. Maybe if we had known how mountainous Utah was we would've changed our mind, because oh my god the area around Park City will forever be known as The Time Driving Down A Mountain Made Me Clench My Buttcheeks Together. As we descended into Salt Lake City, the sunset had put this liquid veil of orange over the whole city and a sliver of the lake; combined with all the lights of the city, it was one of the most magical things I've ever seen. Maybe even more magical than Nebraska. Poor L couldn't enjoy anything though, as his buttcheeks were still clenched. If any of you life near Salt Lake City, I'm thinking you must have the balls of Hulk to drive down those mountains in the winter.

I slept through most of Nevada, and all I remember thinking is, "What's with all the prisons?" and, "Why does every single sign need flashing neon?"

We got to California around 6 in the morning, and our new home state welcomed us with super expensive gas and construction so bad I got diarrhea. Really, what I learned most on this trip was there seemed to be a vein connecting road construction, and my butt.

We made it to Blythe's house by noon, and may I just stop here and say thank God and The Alter of Miley Cyrus for Blythe and her husband? I'm convinced there is no one more generous or kind than the both of them in the entire world. I'm sorry to the rest of my friends and loved ones, but I am 100% correct in telling you that if it weren't for them, I would've moved back to Madison 3 days later. These are the type of people you move across the country to spend more time with, people who have no real reason to go out of their way to help you so much, but do it anyway, and in the mean time make you laugh so hard you don't ever want to stop. Part of the reason I'm looking forward to going to church again (Story for another blog post!) is because I feel like I need a venue just to go and give thanks for all the amazing things people have done for us in our move. It's humbling.

Anyway, fast forward a week and we finally have an apartment. Getting a lease was stickier than we would've liked due to my unemployment, but it happened. Our new apartment is in Oakland, in a neighborhood which we love--Rockridge--and close to all the other cute neighborhoods, too. We live in a deco building, with hardwood floors and granite counter tops and we have an entryway! With a tray ceiling! And windows that look out onto palm trees, other weird Dr. Seuss pine trees, and someone elses pool. That part sucks, especially when it's hotter than Wyoming, and we have to listen to some lucky bastards swim all day long. But, we love it, and it's certainly better than the roach-infested hole I imagined California would give me.

Technically, I'm still unemployed, and that puts a major thorn in this California adventure. I've applied for over 35 jobs and have heard back only yesterday from my safety job, the same retail company I worked at in Madison. It's tough, guys; I can't tell you it has been easy on my self esteem or my relationship with L. So, while I feel bad about not exploring California more, it's because I'm inside all day writing cover letters.

There are bright spots, though: I got an internship in San Francisco at a prominent publishing house. I don't want to name names, but it's the publishing house that Dave Eggers started, he of the Staggering Genius and Where the Wild Things Are variety. I'm grateful to have a purpose outside of job hunting, and it's allowed to walk down the street thinking, "Hey. I work in San Francisco. I'M AWESOME."

Throughout this whole move I wanted to be writing. I didn't write, sadly, but I wanted to be. That in itself is huge, as I haven't felt that way since my early college days. I do something new every day here. Like, in an hour I'm meeting a stranger I found on Craigslist to walk around the lake. Saturday, L and I are going to the city to visit museums and attend a vegetarian food festival.

On paper, my life looks pretty amazing.

Day 1

I was going to write something short and dumb about day one of my roadtrip, but I advise you to check Twitter if you're curious. click here to learn all about Nebraska and what a mistake it is to eat dairy on a car ride. I will be all
a Twitter during the remainder of this journey aka The Never Ending Story.

Anchor

My last night in Madison reminded me how much I love this place. My parents hosted the neighborhood block party on our lawn this evening; everyone brought a dish to pass and something to grill, and for three hours I was surrounded by delicious food, a Midwestern breeze and people who have watched me grow up. The people who have formed what Madison means to me were there to send me off with good wishes and encouragement. Remember that scene in "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" where Gandolf and Merry and Pippin and Sam all stand on the dock, waving goodbye as Frodo sails away on the Elven boat? Tonight felt like that.

Never mind that I get teary when I sense even the smallest feeling of community, but tonight felt really special. Of course it wasn't all about me, but everyone was interested and had advice and knew someone out there and would I like their phone number?

I'll miss living in a close-knit neighborhood, where the same group of kids run up and down the street after school. I recognize the great blessing I received by growing up here. Coming home meant only one thing: the same block, the same house, the same people. Maybe in someways it stunted my eagerness to explore, but I deeply appreciate developing such a specific idea of home.

Tomorrow I'll say goodbye to this town, my old friend, which nurtured me and grew with me and still surprises me. I leave with the knowledge that the arms waving goodbye are the same ones which would embrace me if I decide to return. My own Midwestern lighthouse.