2nd Job...

All weekend I have been studying for this stupid test that Outback gives their employees on the 2nd day of training.

The purpose of the test escapes me, after all most people don't retain the information they memorize for tests, at least I don't. Nor do I see how the material is relevant to the job.

The goal is to not only look over the menu, but to be able to recite on paper WORD FOR WORD the exact description of each and every single item on the menu. Seriously?

I've been thinking this over as I've been majorly stressed out. Is this really worth it? And more importantly, if they're willing to be this inflexible are they going to be a serious pain in my ass down the line? After all, this is a second job for me.

So I'm off to apply to other places: already hit Verizon, and a few restaurants, most of which want you to return between 12 and 4 Monday through Friday. Like I don't have a full-time job already.

Next on the list are less desireable retail jobs, and emergency veterinary hospitals.

What was ultimately the deciding factor though was when I was going to be working 2 jobs incessantly and trying to move. Debt will have to deal with minimum payments until I have another solution, I suppose.

Lessons Learned

Today I broke the news to Dean that I'm in a relationship. His response was less than positive.

I can understand his point of view--after all I didn't tell him right away. We talked till midnight, and I didn't find it imperative to mention that teensy little fact when he poured his heart out to me. I get it.

I also get that I don't want to be in a relationship because it's comfortable. I want to honestly say that I remained faithful, and worked on this relationship because I wanted to.

My approach could have been better. I probably should have not started the conversation with, "Do you want to know the God's honest truth?"

He yelled. And he yelled. And he yelled some more. What he didn't know was that I put the phone down and walked away. If I heard sounds coming from the phone I continued to walk around the apartment.

In reality, I'm not offended. I think that his voicing his opinion did him good. I'm really proud of him for not shoving things deep down.

I've talked to him since then and he seems to be fine. I'm glad. Every chance is another opportunity to teach and learn.

I like making the same mistakes...

When my cousin Debbie told me a few years back that whenever she talks about someone they tend to pop up, I just laughed. After all, there is such a thing as coincidence....right?

Lately thoughts of kissing one of my exes, and plain (like vanilla yogurt) thoughts just made me think of other exes. And then, much to my superstitious suprise they popped up.

It started with a text from Josh. We had a falling out a few months back, over positively nothing. All of my fault, undoubtedly. Meeting Chris, and dating him forced me into a position in which I couldn't handle the complications of other people in my life. Is that an excuse? No. But I felt like I was drowning, and the easiest way to cure that feeling was to remove the fluff in my life. I didn't expect to hear from him, and I had been meaning to drop a Myspace message, but let's face it I suck at keeping in touch.

A text message asking me how NC was treating me was all it took for a long series of explanations of how everything has been (don't worry, you've read it) down here, and a trade of information. Some pieces just fit--they just needed to be taken out of the hypothetical room, to allow me to get comfortable with the emptiness, to appreciate the various "pieces" that the people resemble.

Next came an IM from Dean. This encounter was a little less pleasant. Things with Dean have always been complicated. He's been my kryptonite for a long time, no matter whom I was in a relationship with. When I'm with Dean, I can see myself being married, and perhaps that is why things always fall apart.

Dean is also sensitive, which some people find endearing. I find it frustrating. I tend to want to just shake him and tell him to get tough. But I can't. To me, the man I want is strong, and protective, and makes me feel safe. He doesn't hide behind me, and he has his own life.

But for some reason the excitement, and attention is exciting. Am I running? Or is he right? Is there a reason why we keep ending up back here?

A Great Coffee Cup...

Today I arrived at work at 7:15 a.m. just to ensure that I left enough time for me to compose myself before people started barging in.

I kept the lights off, and barely managed to look alert, much less responsive when Tim walked through the door. A bit surprised, he instinctually pulled back as if I were a wild animal and any sudden movements could spur an attack while attempting to say 'good morning' at a slightly higher voice level than a mumble. What can I say? I'm not a morning person.

Sleep has also been sporadic as well. I lay down and my brain doesn't want to shut off.

So perhaps it was the lack of being awake, or the lack of sleep altogether that took me by surprise when his choppy movements led him to sit on my desk asking me if he could talk to me for a minute.

I pushed my chair back from the desk and said, "Sure. What's up?" I was secretly hoping this was not about the door incident from the Friday before.

"I talked to Lea," he started out, and I inwardly groaned.

He explained his personality type, that he was sorry (and there were visible remnants of tears in his eyes) as he explained that he never intended to hurt my feelings. I explained that now that I knew his personality, it would be fine, but he insisted on taking a kinder approach to talking to me.

Little does he know the great lengths I went to keep from spitting his face back out at him in unrecognizable form.

A great coffee cup once said, "Stress: the confusion created when the mind overrides the body's basic desire to choke the hell out of someone that desperately deserves it."

Of course now his apology makes me feel a little dramatic, and somewhat...bad. Does that take him out of the desperately deserves it category?

"You Could Be Arrested At Any Time"

Because I have the most awesome boss(es) in the world, they decided to take us to a movie (decided consensually among us) today. One of the girls I work with lives across the street from me, so I agreed to follow her. Of course following her meant being equally late.

Since they didn't know I was definitely coming, they didn't buy a ticket to me.

"Here," Dr. P said handing me some money. "Go buy your ticket, we'll see you inside."

While I was waiting outside in line, I noticed a strange man staring at me. This has not been an uncommon experience for me in the South, as not many redheads exist here. Therefore, gone are the days when people used to approach me and tell me how I reminded them of someone they knew.

As I continued to wait, and the man continued to stare, I shifted uneasily from foot-to-foot. Apparently in some parralel universe that is code for: approach me.

I feel it's imperative to say that I try to look mean and unapproachable. I'm a single woman living alone. Mean is the best I've got.

When the man approached me, he came mere inches from my face. I've had dudes kiss me further away than that.

"Excuse me miss," he said. "I'm behind you."

I knew he wasn't behind me, but decided to let it go anyways.

I continued to patiently wait my turn. But the man decided this would be the perfect opportunity to engage me in conversation.

"You know," he started out which already had me rolling my eyes. "You could be arrested at any time."

Figuring he meant the faux wrap that I was wearing that allowed my tattoo to play peek-a-boo from time-to-time, and a "public display of indecency" was what he was meaning, I made a face and said "Uh thanks."

Pretending like he never heard me, he continued, "For excessive beauty. You know they're trying to crack down on all of that....excessive beauty. So if you see a cop, you just try and run the other way."

Clearly the dude was on drugs, and not because I don't find myself to be attractive. I completely do. However the long pauses make me suggest that maybe he should lay off the NyQuil, or the nightcap, as it seems to be seeping into his day hours.

Luckily for me, then it was my turn and I made sure to whisper the movie I was seeing so he couldn't hear me.

As I entered the lobby of the movie theatre I proclaimed kind of loudly, "I'm in North Carolina with the crazies!"

Below the Belt...

Today I had my first altercation at work, and it wasn't even someone I work closely with. Instead it was the head technician whom happened to be invading MY space at the time, I might add.

It started when the other girls whom were training me failed to be telepathic. I mean really ladies, let's get with the program! The office officially opens at 8, but people can drop off at 7:30 a.m. We by no means encourage it, but we don't tell anyone no either. So in my head, and my logic that meant to keep the doors locked, unless someone showed up until 8 a.m.

So when Tim jumped down my throat this morning that "You're doors are locked," I swallowed my initial response and said "I know they're locked. We open at 8 o'clock," as I walked towards the door.

Mind you that never once did I hide, or try to not let the person in. Never once did I say that I wasn't going to let the person in. But he pressed on...

"Who told you that?"

I made a face. "The girls," I said. And named them off.

He proceeded to tell me that unless something had changed we were to unlock the doors at 7:30 a.m. but he would "check with the doctors, and make sure [the two other girls] knew as well."

I saw the Resort Manager a few minutes later and asked what the other girls typically do when it comes to unlocking the doors. He told me that they unlocked the doors at 7:30 a.m. I knew instantly that I had done wrong.

I tracked him down, told him that I had spoken to [the resort manager] and he told me that the other girls unlocked the door at 7:30 and it must have been a mistake on my part. Then I said the words, wholeheartedly, "I'm sorry".

And the rat bastard still ran to the head doctor and told her anyway. And I know this because she told the Hospital Manager to tell all of us that the doors were to be unlocked at 7:30. And she knew they weren't because "people were walking around outside when she came in."

"Bullshit," I said to my new boss. "{Client's name] was standing in here. They had a conversation."

We tried to explain what happened but to the hospital manager, it didn't matter. It was irrelevant. I felt like this entire situation was spinning out of control.

I talked to the girls, cried a bit, and felt better. I hate making mistakes with a oassion. And I hate being reprimanded without further consideration even more.

So it should have been no surprise to me when I ended up blowing up at a lunch outing with two coworkers and the hospital manager. If time ever had a wrong place that was it. I embarassed my boss in front of her subordinates, but didn't get into trouble. I should know I can't hold this stuff in. And I packed my lunch that day. Why didn't I just stay at the office and eat? Seriously?

When we got back to the office I was pulled into the Manager's office to have closure on the entire situation--both for my boss, and for myself. While I'm embarassed that I got so worked up over something so little, I am also glad. My boss learned how my mind works--I seek to understand why first which makes me an analytical personality, and I got to understand why some people act the way they do. To include getting a jab in on Tim that I'm not a morning person either, but it's called being a professional. I come to work, slap a smile on my face whether it's 7:30 a.m. or 11 a.m.

And while I'd normally be obsessing about the major fubar that was today, I'm just not. I replay it in my mind, and quite honestly I think that was the first time EVER that I have not felt badly about really being myself, and acting the way I needed to to feel better.

Moving--seriously this time.

I've been carefully weighing this moving decision. And I say carefully because when I asked whether or not they had a bug problem, I wasn't expecting to hear "yes" in so many words. And my heart sank a little.

From the moment you pull into the drive you can tell that the apartments are set up differently than the one I'm blogging from the inside of right now. They're also across the stress from what looks to be a prosperous business complex, but then again they're probably not managed by GSC.

So the knowledge that I only had three days to cancel the hold on the apartment, and get a return on my $100 hit me. I did not want to live there. I'd rather stay here, pay more for gas and know what I'm getting into than to sign a new lease, and have to move yet again. Besides, right now this whole bug thing was the key to getting out.

In a spontaneous second I hopped online and checked out chapelhillrent.com only to find that when I phoned so many of these realtors that were responsible for showing the properties, that I got ignored entirely. A quick search on apartments.com yielded no results, so I was forced back to Rent.com. The place that misled me in the first place.

And I found the most beautiful apartment complex I have ever seen. I've seen the model and it is both as beautiful in pictures as it is in person. I knew this would be the perfect place for me. So I placed the call, and waited for a call back.

When I got off work, I headed to the property bound and determined to make them see me. I explained my situation, and they explained that they don't have bugs because of preventative maintence/following up on a single bug sighting. She also told me 1 bedrooms cost $699.

"But, Wait!" I protested. "On rent.com it said $450" and that's where it got better than ever.

Aparently nice living is affordable...with a roommate. I agreed. Living alone may have it's benefits but talking to myself is neither enlightening nor a good kick in the ass to get anything done. A roomie on the other hand could be heaven or hell depending on the person.

It turns out my roommate is going to be a 25 year old young lady named Christal. I've spoken to her on the phone a few times, and she seems simply awesome. For those whom are interested, she's cute too. (And in my top friends). We move in on July 9th.

To see the model of our apartment go to www.rent.com and search for Berkshire Manor West in Carrboro, NC.

And just to make sure I don't bring any pets, the televsiion, microwave and probably a few other things will be bagged, sprayed and fumigated in a storage unit for 1 month. :(

Moving up in the world...

Recently I went to the Management Company that oversees the apartments in my complex and complained. I get a notice on my door every Tuesday that they're coming to spray the apartments in my entire building to get rid of the roaches. It usually alludes to the fact that we have reached a "emergency" level. I went to complain that the exterminator failed to spray my apartment!

I'm pleased to report that the sprayings DO help...albeit some two weeks later. I have also kept up with my sprayings, citing Raid as being the best thing ever. Not only does it kill the bugs I spray, but in the event that my aim is slightly off, it also kills them when they walk through it. Now go days without seeing a single roach, although the dead carcasses that appear from the sprayings tend to freak me out a bit.

The fact of the matter is that this is the South and roaches, much like ants, and the now somewhat famous stink bugs that are invading the North are pests that live outside and migrate indoors for things like food and water. It's not indicative of cleanliness or dirtiness of a place, but rather of a resident. Being clean (i.e. washing dishes before and after using them), and keeping tempting foods like chips, cereals, and Ramen noodle in the fridge keeps them out of my food. No extra protein for me. But you're bound to see one or two here and there. The only difference is the rapid amounts they produce in such little time! Soon one bug= many bugs. So they're also harder to control, but the spraying seems to keep them under control, and to a minimum.

The better news still is that the property manager has agreed to let me move out of here, and to another complex still owned by the same company. This is better for a lot of reasons, but mostly:putting me 20 min tops from my vet hospital job, and 5 min tops from the Outback where I'll be waitressing.

Pulling into the parking lot, I could immediately tell it was a nicer place--and came with a more expensive price tag! This property also has a swimming pool, and a gym! I cannot wait!

Meeting Tara

Today I met Chris's sister, Tara, and his grandmother, Ruthie for Father's Day. Interesting does not begin to describe this family.

First and foremost Ruthie looks like what every grandmother should look like. Granted, she scared the hell out of me two nights before when she called to ask me to tell Chris (assuming I saw him on Saturday) that she, Tara, and Amber would be making it up on Sunday due to unforseen events involving work and a broken couch. Ruthie is very soft spoken, and lady-like.

Tara on the other hand looks like a girl right out of a 50's movie with a modern day attitude. In other words: the girl is a complete bitch! And this is the nice sister. She spent the entire time complaining about everything from her sister to her family, to Chris never changing. I roll my eyes at that last one.

To say that she pulled no punches was the understatement of the year. She repeatedly identified Tori as being a "life sucker" and telling Chris he needed to "marinade" in prison a bit more. At one point she made me bust out laughing (sans grape soda thank goodness) when she spoke of her parents taken Tori to Brazil with them, and kicking her off a mountain.

There's no denying the girl is smart as a whip either. Her education at the very expensive Wake Forest served her well. Now she works as an analyst for a grocery company making more money entry level than I'll probably see for a long while in my teaching job.

Thankfully she only stayed about 2 hours. Then Ruthie hugged me goodbye, and Tara told me it was nice to meet me. I think that may be the closest I'll ever come to getting her to like me.

If she truly believes that people don't change, then she probably believes that I'm like Tori despite what I tell her in so many words. The truth of the matter is a) that Tori and I are nothing alike. It takes work to be that big of a money-grubbing whore, and b) her opinion doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

She's a tough audience, but lucky for her I like a challenge.

Can You Feel It?

Recently Chris and I reached a first in our relationship. That is to say: our first big fight. For once in many of my relationships, this one was entirely my fault. But I can't say I didn't warn him.

On the last night of my hotel stay I made the mistake of being my OCD self and "crunching numbers". I should have known better. First and foremost, frankly, numbers skitz me out. Whether it be numbers in terms of time (i.e. being late for something, or running close to the wire which could inevitable make me on time or late is too much stress. I'd rather just be early; or time as in having enough hours to enjoy what I'm doing), or in terms of finances. In this particular case it was a skitz out in terms of finances.

In my head it seemed logical to me that moving closer to my job, and paying a little more for rent would be less than driving 35-45 min each direction to work each day. The inevitable comment on CNN about gas prices rising to $5.00/gallon by mid-summer only further served to freak me out. Of course crunching numbers revealed to me a very limited budget with which to work. Not to mention that I was already over budget as it was, and with no second job in sight. Really, a little foresight, and maybe some savings would have been a good idea. But this is me, and I jumped in feet first. Not blind, I knew the proverbial water would be cold, I just didn't expect hypothermia. My fault.

As I crunched the numbers and became increasingly more stressed the thought that I may need to move back to PA, thereby admitting defeat, and better still moving back to a place I only miss when I'm gone, and leaving things I've come to love down here. Like. warm. weather. The scariest part of moving back was the thought of not being able to see Chris anymore with the sky-high prices of airline tickets.

I feel it's imperative to inform you that I can be cool, calm, collection, and rational but I need a freaking-out period. A period where I loathe the powers that be, that I curse worse than a sailor and Ben and Jerry are my two best friend's. Usually this is a very private affair lasting less than 24 hours.

Chris, unbeknownst to him, made the mistake of intruding on this sordid little affair. And it appears that the prospect of moving away from him really had me rattled. Seriously.

He says I snapped, and in so many words accused me of treating him like a subordinate, a nuisance, and he was not going to tolerate it. His comment about treating someone that "you supposedly love" cut me the deepest. Perhaps because I know how hard I've worked to become happy, and how infrequently I snap now as opposed to before.

My initial reaction was anger. HOW DARE HE! I've never treated him like a subordinate, or bad child. I was wrong to snap, but his approach wasn't much better. And why would he question my love for him? It plagued me for 2 days.

I immediately sat down and wrote a long letter sans excuses and sans accusations. I told him blatantly that his words had hurt me, but I understood his point of view. He did not deserve to be snapped at, and his anger probably came from hurt. He hurt me the way I had hurt him. Only time and understanding could inevitably get us back so I hoped.

I almost walked out the door that very day. I considered it, talked about it out loud to my mirror, and rehearsed what I was going to say. I tried to consider his position from every angle. I thought of calling Josh, just to talk, just to say when you said that you and had talked things through, and negotiated, what did you mean? Is this a time when I'm supposed to let go or supposed to hold on? I didn't engage in the luxury.

I was supposed to meet Chris's family yesterday, but they ended up canceling at the last minute. (More about that later). So I got up for work, went there, and came back home in a lame attempt to go back to sleep. I talked to Management and tried to continue on my day as usual. As I was heading out to take a look at another property an overwhelming gut feeling that I couldn't explain just hit me. It said, "Go see Chris". So I drove all the way to Butner.

Chris greeted me with a kiss. He and I had talked since the bad mood conversation, but the letter had come a few days later. We sat and talked for the alloted three hours. I told him that I didn't want to have false pretenses in front of his family. I'd prefer not to show up at all then. He responded by telling me that we were fine, but he had needed to say some things. I told him that I had written him back. And we left it at that.

It's scary how the fear of losing someone almost made me lose him. How I almost carelessly threw away something I'm so passionate about--because the emotional attachment scared me. I'm glad he told me how he was feeling even if it wasn't in the politically correct way. And most of all I'm glad we worked through our first big fight.

I've decided for the moment to let the chips fall where they may. I have options, many of them actually before moving back to PA is a possibility. But first I have to ASK, or I'll never know all of the possibilities that await me.

As Jessica Simpson said, "Can you feel it? I love this boy!"

Stroked Out...

Tonight my mother called me in a an absolute hysterical mood. Apparently the one dog, Kira, her dog, and sister to my dog, was having what they thought was a stroke. Initially losing muscles in her face, with progressive paralysis concerned them so they called the vet--consequently my cousin.

His office informed them that they couldn't fit her in, either during normal business hours, or as an emergency. He would "stop by after his wrestling show on Friday". He did however manage to make a diagnosis of bells palsy over the phone.

When this information was relayed to me I was both shocked and appalled. First and foremost it's not only unethical to diagnose a patient over the phone, it's illegal! Second of all, you don't tell a potential stroke victim that you'll see them in two days!

I called the emergency center in PA (mind you I'm currently residing 400 miles away in sunny North Carolina) to find out how much the exam would be. $125 they replied cooly.

I called my mom back and offered it as a suggestion to which she told me that she didn't have any money. But "Bruce [my dim-witted stepfather] had given her an aspirin and she appeared to be getting better."

UPDATE: The idiot veterinarian came by the house last night (Friday) to check out Kira. She did have a stroke, and has recovered most of her motor function. She does not have control of her right side facial muscles, and unfortunately that control can never be regained. It appears however the aspirin did do some good in preventing her from having a full-out stroke. It did nothing however to ease my tension.

Better Than Snow?

I am somewhat pleased and disappointed to report that last night was my last night in the Red Roof Inn. Well we can't rendezvous forever, I suppose.

I went to the apartment to check the mail (two letters that went to PA and had to come back to NC from Chris had finally arrived yay!), and to see how the people made out with my apartment.

I found the spray obviously worked, as there were dead bugs everywhere (just as my dream had predicted...yum). But they had failed to clean like they said they would. I went over to the manager's office and complained.

They told me a cleaning company would come in today to clean up the mess. Which they did...only they left my lights on, running up my electric bill, and they didn't clean out the bathtub from an obvious back up. Just what I want to shower in.

Since my tub is slow to drain, I'm off to call the emergency maintenance, to get them to come out and make it fast to drain. You know so I can shower and all.

I apologize in advanced if blogging is few and far between. With the cost of gas, there is a lot of work being done on my part right now to cut costs. And driving to the library daily aint cheap.

And I apologize for the sweeping heatwave I apparently not only left behind in Philly, but also brought with me. Hey, many would say it's better than snow!

Cohabitating: My 1st Time...

Since I'm paying for this internet connection, I might as well blog. Let me back up a few steps and explain....

I knew I probably couldn't pick up and move 400 miles without a hitch: finding a great job, having a great apartment, and keeping a great boyfriend. It was just too much to bear.

The job is great, and Chris and I are better than ever. (Although that first of week of being here, and being unable to see him was both weird, and sucked equal amounts, at the same time).

I knew I'd have to stay in a hotel for a week, I knew I wouldn't have cable television or internet access for a while, but I did not expect this.

When I was younger, my grandparents used to make (and they still do sans their youngest grandchildren) a trip to West Virginia (their hometowns)to visit family. One of my grandfather's sisters, Rachael, lives in a single-two room shack. The so-called "bedroom" is the size of the living room, and the people that lived there didn't sleep on beds, they slept on mattresses. That's not the best part. The roaches that my aunt has in that house were large, and they came on the table and would sit at the edge of the plate, begging like a dog. Truth is stranger than fiction.

I now find myself in an apartment that upon MOVING IN (with no other place to go, 400miles away from anything familiar to me, having lugged tons of plastic bins up a flight of stairs with a dolley, and my 66 year old grandmother to help me) that I have a roach problem. Thankfully they're not as big as Aunt Rachael's and I'm assuming they've inhabited an empty house. Luckily me and Raid are like this and I assume the problem will be quickly brough under control.

How wrong I've been. 2 cans of spray and conversation with my mother later, I've decided that I cannot live with these roaches. I HAVE to break my lease. I waltz into the manager's office on the verge of tears, explain that I have NEVER had to live with bugs, and this was not part of the lease. They're EVERYWHERE.

My property manager immediately puts me up in a hotel and makes arrangements to fumigate my apartment. Then, they're going to bring in a professional cleaning company to thoroughly clean the apartment before Monday when I check out of the nice Red Roof Inn hotel room they've put me up in, and back into the Roach Motel (aka my apartment).

My fingers are crossed that the roaches are gone, or better yet DOA. (Dead on arrival). Because surely North Carolina has never seen hell like the kind I will raise if I have to cohabitate with bugs.

Putting up the goods...

Craig's List has a notorious rap for people posting that they want to do something tonight, so it being a Friday night, with nothing to do, and work tomorrow, I decided to head onto Craig's List to see if I could meet some people.

I lucked out and met a guy who's name I can't remember now, and who's not knowing his name only inevitably got me into trouble. He told me he would meet me at the Texas Roadhouse next to my hotel at 10:15, at the bar, and he would be wearing jeans and polo.

I arrived slightly before 10:15 to scope out the scene, and saw a moderately cute guy enter the bar. Just because I'm in a relationship does not mean that I can't have cute friends.

As I walked into the bar I noticed said guy (whom really wasn't that attractive) talking to a group of guys. I approached him and asked, "Are you the guy I'm supposed to be meeting tonight?"

"No I don't think so," he said.

He introduced himself as Chad anyways, and I explained that I was waiting for someone. We (being Chad and myself) grabbed a table and a round of drinks before being joined by another car salesman (unbeknownst to me at the time) named Ben. Soon our group was a foursome to include the waitress...

We laughed and talked, and made fun of the guy I was really supposed to be meeting whom ended up sitting at the bar, grabbing a few drinks and walking out unbeknownst to him that he was the brunt of our jokes.

Honestly though what straight man would put up a woman in a nice house and not give up the goods?