Cheap and Cheerful

I spent an odd Christmas this year.  It was the first Christmas I'd spent without both Dean and my family, and both my roommate and my only other close friend are still out of town visiting their families.  As it turned out, I ended up at a nearby bar with a co-worker on Christmas Eve.  It was 7 PM and the place was pretty sad--dark, a few huddled figures at the bar, and dozens of empty tables.  We each had one drink before I stupidly mentioned the all-you-can-drink beer and soju joint right next door.  Enthused, my co-worker managed to convince me to check it out with him.

It was a mistake.  My limit is usually one bottle of soju and that's it.  But that night, I had a strong cocktail at the first bar, then a beer, then one and a half bottles of soju.  I don't even really remember what we talked about--our families, friends, tv shows, work--and I don't even remember walking to a coffee shop after or then walking home, but I know it happened.  I completely passed out when I got home, and the next day, I couldn't get out of bed for several hours.

He's a nice guy, my co-worker.  Well, kind of.  Sarcastic. Dead-pan.  Blunt.  But underneath it all, he's respectful and considerate.  A Korean son.

We hadn't really talked much at work for the last three months.  We'd exchange some pleasantries ("this company is going to fucking kill me") on the roof during a smoke break.  I'd wave if we passed in the halls.  It wasn't until the Christmas party last week that we started talking.  He came up to me at the bar and started chatting.  I was drunk.  He was friendly.  We went and got Korean after to sober up.  After that, we still didn't talk at the office.  And then, somehow--I really don't remember--I ended up inviting him to a bar when I was out with my roommate.  And after that, we've talked every day.  We're friends, but we're secret friends.  It's ridiculous.  It's childish.  But neither of us want to start chatting it up at the office, because I know how this office works and it's a fucking gossip mill from hell.  So we ignore each other at work and text at night.  It's uncomfortable and strange.

I want friends, but this relationship already seems like it's off on the wrong foot.

Buried

The last post I had was pretty depressing, but as I was in a "very dark place" at the time, it was fitting.

I'm going to be getting a divorce in the upcoming months, and even saying those words still sound insane to me.  But it's happening and I am just trying to move forward with it.

I had to take a few days off work once I discovered the truth.  My sister immediately flew out and after she left, my mom took her place for two weeks.  Letters and gifts poured in from relatives and friends, and it took me off guard.  You get cards for Christmas, birthdays, and graduations.  But I wasn't expecting this kind of thing at all.  And it really hit me hard what an amazing family and group of friends that I have.

It took me a few weeks, but I jumped back into work as best as I could.  I still screw up on what feels like a daily basis.  After being that person in my district who seemed to know everything, this feeling of utter inadequacy is crushing.  I want to do better, I want to prove that I'm not a total waste to the team, but I just can't seem to get things right anymore.  There is always a hesitation, always a growing shadow of a doubt.

But I can't say that everything is bad.  My former roommate from college moved in with me a month ago.  She's moving back to NYC at the end of January, but it's been amazing getting to live with one of my best friends again.   In Maryland, I did feel isolated--I didn't have close friends to hang out with on the weekends and I was a workaholic.  Now, I love being able to come home at the end of the day so we can pour two glasses of wine, bitch about work, and then just talk.

And my company's Christmas party was last night, which was a pretty good time.  Taking someone's wise advice, I had a few drinks at my apartment before I left, so when I got to the place, I already had a buzz.  I proceeded to have a handful of vodka tonics while talking at the bar.  But there were weird moments, as well.  You're having a smoke on the balcony and some guy puts his jacket over you when he realizes you're cold.  Or you let someone order your drink.  It's stupid little things, but they are things that no one other than Dean has done for me in years.  I never let it happen--I always made it clear when I went out that I was in a relationship.  Not in a bitchy, upfront way, but conversationally.  But now...I'm just seen as a single girl.

One of my co-workers on the other side of the office went through a massive break up during the same week as me.  I didn't know him very well at all, but now, we take ten minute breaks on the roof and talk about how we're dealing with things.  Ten minute therapy sessions.  This is my life right now.

I don't feel like writing anymore.  I should cook dinner or finish up some online Christmas shopping.

Night, all.

The life I've known is over.  I try to pick up the pieces only to figure out I don't know where anything belongs anymore.  Each day feels like a nightmare, but I have never loved my family or friends more.  I try to rediscover what I was like ten years ago, but it's like being curious while looking into a stranger's life.  Is that what I did?  Is that what I loved?  Is that what made me happy?

Happiness is underrated and I never realized that until now.  Aristotle said it was the most important thing in life, which sounds childish, but it really is the motivating force behind all of our plans and actions.  And when life changes, what does that mean for your happiness?  It just dies and you have to start from the beginning again, and all with that single, unanswerable question:  what makes you happy?

Voyager

A photo post.  A lot happened in the last week but it would be exhausting to type it all out.  I kept starting this entry and then deleting it out of frustration.

Went here for Dean's "welcome to LA" first official meal as an LA resident...at 11:30 PM.  We left at 2:30 am right as they were closing.  It was pricier than I am used to, but the quality of meat was top notch.  Great place and only a few blocks away.

The next morning, we walked to Paris Baguette, which I was freaking thrilled to find is just as cheap stateside as it is in Korea.  Holla.

After, we went to Little Tokyo for lunch and in the parking lot, Dean snapped this winning photograph.  Also, I got that shirt at Jet Rag last week--it has a picture of a unicorn and the words "Books are Magic".  It has a few small holes in the back but I could care less.

Just a shot of some stuffed animals we have hanging around the office.  For some reason, maintenance built a shelf there last week and we promptly loaded these on top.

e

Office Halloween party from today!  It was just an hour in the middle of the day, but it was a surprisingly good time.  Our HR chick put together some amusing games and everyone had some laughs.  Things have been insanely busy as of late, so everyone needed an excuse to just let loose.

I was super lame and just recycled one of my costumes from last year.  But Red Riding Hood without the basket...silliness.  

Finally, a closing shot of Dean and Blue hanging out.  I love it when cat's toes curl like that.  I just want to eat them.

Overall, these past few days:  Driving around in a U-Haul, moving in furniture, helping friend move furniture, haggling in Spanish, Supernatural marathon, meat, costumes, computers, soju.

Red

Pardon my absence, but I did not have internet for two weeks.  I was only supposed to go a few days without it, but there was a mishap with the UPS delivery, and then when I did get the necessary junk, it didn't even work so I had to wait for an AT&T dude to come fix it today.  Le sigh.  

The last few weeks have been a blur of late nights with my former college roommate, Lizzy (fried chicken and donuts while watching Sherlock Holmes 2; drinks at Gaam; bumming around Ikea trying to pronounce Swedish furniture and cookies), solitary evenings with a single beer and leftovers from lunch, and then, those nights where I wanted to crawl out of my skin out of boredom.  In those cases, I grabbed my iPod, pulled on my Dr. Marten's, and just started walking.  One night, I walked three miles up and down Wilshire and 6th Street, no destination in mind, playing the same Metric song over and over before I reluctantly allow it to roll into the next song.  I smoked too much.  I lingered outside restaurants and read the menus before guiltily walking away when I realized someone inside was just waiting for me to come in.  

For two nights, I worked on a drawing using my tablet and the Artrage program.  I had bought a beautiful book on Art Nouveau jewelry at a flea market last winter and used it as inspiration.  I used to really dislike Art Nouveau since it just seemed cheesy, but in the last year, I started to really appreciate it.  It didn't try to be anything "cool"--it was shamelessly dreamy, feminine, and mythic.  It was all women with windswept hair, butterflies with jeweled wings, goddesses with crowns of stars.  Natural and whimsical, asymmetrical and unapologetic.  

It was hard to start a new project again and several times, I just wondered if I was being punished for my lack of interest in art in the last handful of years--like everything I had studied and felt "passionate" about until I was twenty-three had deserted me.  But it wasn't a punishment--it was a reminder.  You want to be good at something?  Fucking do it, then.  I had forgotten how pleasurable it is to create something that is so visual, so immediate in its progress.  With work, it's so hard to be judged, and it's not about talent, it's about the left brain.  

Dean comes back tomorrow, though.  Single life just doesn't suit me well.  But then again, this hasn't really been a "single" life--I've been alone but still in a relationship.  I've started my "new life", but not really.  Part of me kept holding back, giving only 50% because it just felt wrong to go about doing all these things as if I were on my own.  

But overall, even though this last month and a half have sucked, I'm still surviving.  The chorus of  "Dreams So Real" by Metric has become my mantra--"I'll shut up and carry on; a scream becomes a yawn."  Fitting words.  I can bitch and moan, but at the end of the day, none of it seems to matter.  Keep your head up, stay alert at work, don't get run over by a bus on your way home (the buses here are CRAZY, by the way--nearly got sandwiched TWICE driving home today), feed the cat, make the coffee, take out the trash, try to eat something.  Probably the most difficult thing about living by myself in a new place is that I don't have very much food and I can't justify buying a lot.  At least three times in the last month, I've just had some crackers or yogurt for dinner.  It's been the "accidental "single" girl diet" AKA "too lazy to cook, too cheap to buy food diet", which has resulted in me going down a pants size.  It sounds stupid, but I'm kind of pissed off about that.  I have furniture to buy--the last thing I want to do is spend money on more jeans.  All of my expensive designer pairs--7s, Joe's, Paper Denim Cloth, Alice + Oliva--are too big at this point, so I can't even wear damn jeans to work.  

Sigh.  Okay, I should try to get some sleep.  I'm just really, really excited about Dean coming to LA tomorrow...I just want to speed up time.  He will land in 24 hours, but I shouldn't expect him until 11 PM just to be safe.  

Have a great night, whoever is out there.

Coughing Colors

I'm not the kind of person who believes in bad luck, but today was just...off.

It should have been an easy day. I woke up early and called Verizon concerning a $200 overage charge on my joint cell phone bill with my husband, and they--very nicely and professionally--agreed to strike $100 off since it was so out of character for us.  This put me in a great mood, so I happily strolled out of my apartment at ten till eight, ready to get into work an hour or so early.

I got in the car and hooked up my iPod, found a song I liked, and turned the volume way up.  I had only driven a few yards before a parking enforcement officer passed by, stared at my car, then motioned for me to stop.  There was a moment of freak out where I thought he was going to comment on my out-of-state license plate, but after I rolled down my window, he sauntered over, pointed at the back of my car, and said, "You know you have a flat, right?"

An hour and one AAA visit later, I was back on the road with my spare tire (to be honest, I didn't even know I had one until the officer opened up my trunk and fished it out), ready to do some hardcore excel shit.   I got in on time to make my lunch order for the day (we order out from 2 different locations every day and can place the orders on our corporate site)--a rainbow roll and miso soup from a popular Japanese place nearby.  By the time noon rolled around, I was starving but hadn't received the email to pick up my food a reception.  Two hours went by, and all of us in our department were feeling flat out mutinous.  Finally, the girl next to me got a call from the front desk saying, "Uh...did you guys like, want to get your food or what?"  Apparently, the lunch emails "hadn't gone through" and eight of us just hadn't received them.  We all stalked off toward the front only to find that it had been sitting there for hours and the restaurant had forgotten our miso soups.

What happened next?  I spilled soy sauce all over my pants.  I ran to the bathroom to try to clean it off, and in the stall, noticed two things:  1) the seam at the top of my new pants had unraveled completely and 2) my underwear was...inside out.  :(

Ok, so for the good parts of the day: I got to leave work early to...sign the lease on my new apartment!!!!!  Also, I walked to the nearby bookstore and picked up "Salt: A World History" and "The Marriage Plot"--the former I had been wanting for several years and the latter has been on my "want" list since Christmas.  So even though I won't have internet for a few days at my new place, at least I'll have some books to keep me company.

On a random note, here are some pics of my nails.  For the last few months, I've really been into glittery, ridiculously girly polishes.  The reason?  Regular polish chips within a day on me, but a few layers of glitter and I'm good for a week at the least.  

My new place!  There are just these units (each building has one unit on top, one on the bottom).  I have a bottom one and the tree is right outside our window.  And the crazy thing?  It's the same number as my previous apartment.

All the rooms have these gorgeous windows which means LIGHT. FCKING BEAUTIFUL NATURAL LIGHT.

Ok, now I'm going to go shower, pick up a little, and read one of my awesome new books.  Have a great weekend!!

Imagine this: you are at your computer working on a large spreadsheet, earbuds in place, ipod playing some leaked Taylor Swift tracks (because you are a huge dork).  You are innocently bobbing your head along to the music while tapping out some numbers in excel.  And then a neon-colored elephant stuffed animal sails across the room and whacks you right in the back of the head. 

Welcome to Company X.

It's hard to believe it's almost been a month already.  I don't remember if I wrote it here or not, but during my first week, I wished for nothing more than to wake up the next day and realize that a month has gone by--that I'm not the hugest idiot in the room anymore.  And even though the day to day activities have been a slow, uphill battle, when you scale back, everything has moved in hyper-speed.

It's not like I'm doing much during the weeks, though.  I come home from work and head back to my company apartment, then spend the next few hours watching TV on my computer, listening to music, or writing.  It's not a real life--it's like hotel life or something.  But I *did* get an apartment and can move in on Friday!!  It's absolutely fantastic.  It's in a busy part of Ktown but it's down a quiet side street.  There is a courtyard in the center of the complex (just a handful of units).  The unit itself has all hardward floors, 2 bedrooms, and gorgeous, large windows that stretch to the floor.  There is even parking in the back!  And the price?  Well...utilities included, it will be about $500 cheaper than my Maryland place.  Life in the DC suburbs ain't cheap.

My company will drop off all my boxes (they've been sitting in a loading dock for 3 weeks now...I really, really hope no one stole anything) on Saturday morning, and I'll spend the rest of the weekend un-packing.  Hopefully, a friend or two can come over to assist.  Then, I just have to wait another week for Dean to come back from DC (he's been there working).

Suddenly, I'm not in the mood to write anymore.  In fact, I want to go eat a cup of noodles.  Away I go.

Mouthful of Diamonds

The last week was another rollercoaster, but it looks like things may be starting to level out.  Am I an expert in my field yet?  No, and far from it.  But I also don't feel like I was born yesterday anymore and am starting to feel more confident in my work.

Since my husband won't be out in LA until the end of October, it's been a little lonely.  I talk to my cat and scold him for his imagined sassiness.  I find myself watching really tacky shows on TLC while eating Little Caeser's pizza or ramen.  I call my friends back on the east coast and rant about my week.

One cool thing, however, is that my former roommate of 4 years (she was also in Korea with me for a year) lives in LA, so we have been hanging out during the weekends.  Last week, we went to Gaam in Ktown and today, we spent all afternoon bumming around Little Tokyo.  She's one of those friends that will trade fake insults all morning before getting into some serious conversations and then ending the night going clubbing with you--you never have awkward silences, you never have to censor yourself.  We went into all the over-the-top Japanese cutesy stores.  I bought some insane false eyelashes.  We ate yogurt, sushi, bubble tea, and split a large Sapporo beer before ending our late afternoon at a coffee shop, where we spent two hours talking about friends from college and Korea.

Oh!  I dyed my hair last night.  Feeling impulsive, I walked to Walgreen's, grabbed two boxes of bleach and two boxes of dye, then immediately went to the bathroom to get started.  I even considered cutting my hair, but backed out at the last second.  It's getting pretty long and I just want to see how long I can go before cutting it.

My parents are flying out to LA tomorrow morning and will spend a week here helping me apartment hunt!  Luckily, the apartment the company is letting me stay in this month has 2 bedrooms and 3 beds, so they won't even have to get a hotel.

Here are the eyelashes I bought today.  They are sooooo thick and heavy that it's difficult to see.  Can't see myself actually wearing them in public--more just for when I want to take selcas.

And here are some shots of my hair in different lighting.  Sometimes, it looks really dark and in other light it looks freakishly bright.

High and Dry

Yesterday, I'm loathe to admit, was a total shit show.  Since it was only the start of my second week and I hadn't worked over the weekend, it was harder than I had imagined to slip back into that already rocky stream.  Everything I did seemed to take forever, and Excel has been bitch-slapping me dozens of times a day.  At my interview, when they asked about my Excel proficiency, I replied that I am no expert, but know the average amount for my position.  They nodded with acceptance and took a small note of it.  It turns out that my "proficiency" was more akin to a toddler announcing that it is ready to be an Olympic sprinter when, in fact, it can barely scoot across the floor.

So I've been e-mailing myself random spreadsheets throughout the day so I can puzzle them out at home without my trainer, Peter, watching my every move.  I need time to do my own trial and error projects, or else I become a nervous wreck during work hours.

In other news, I went to a laundromat for the first time today.  I walked down there with a small pile of clothes shoved into a shopping bag, but when I got there, there was no detergent (the internet lies!!  It told me that I could usually buy small amounts at the laundromat.  And yes...I totally had to google "first time laundromat how what do?").  So then I had to drag myself over to the nearest convenience store to buy some overpriced detergent and dryer sheets before huffing my way back to my original destination.

Once there, I was overwhelmed.  There were tons and tons of machines, but the dryers looked like the washing machines.  I've only ever had top loader washers, so I strolled down the isle of machines, trying to "play it cool" but in my mind I was all, "WTH am I going to do??!  Why do they look the same?  I am a total.idiot."  I finally got it all sorted out, and then realized that my phone was dying and I'd forgotten a book. It turns out that I had my notebook from work and a pen in my purse (thank god for giant handbags), so I spent the next hour making art nouveau-styled doodles.

Now...I'm waiting for my trial Office to download because my computer only came with the crappy starter edition that doesn't have several of the functions I need to practice for work.  It's 10 PM...I should be going to bed...and yet my damn Office still has 30 minutes to finish downloading.  FML.  Not sorry to see you go, Tuesday.  And is it Friday yet?

I Don't Care

Going out in Ktown tonight with my former college roommate.  All of my "fun" clothes are all boxed up and in another building until I get my real apartment, so I just had to wear work clothes. :(

The office is quiet in the morning.  All the lights are off on my side of the hall (massive, minimal fuss, white walls, white grid).  Further down, one or two figures tap at their computers, but overall, the feeling is calm.  Outside of these doors, workers have been busy spinning thousands of yards of fabric into fashion--the lights are bright, the talk is fast, and the machines are humming.

From where I sit, I have a clear view of the stairway that leads to the rooftop.  The first morning of work, I happened to look up and for half of a second, thought it was snowing.  In a big factory like this, dust is inevitable, but caught in the light, it looks almost charming--my imagined version of snow in California.

Over the next forty minutes, my new co-workers slowly trickle in.  Some burst through the doors in pairs, laughing and promising to have lunch together ("Do you want to get burgers?" "Oh my god, I have been having fucking DREAMS of burgers"), while others trudge, skip, or glide.  Trudgers: hungover or generally cynical employees--the guy in the black t-shirt and shades who only greets people with a nod.  Skippers: the tirelessly cheerful employees--usually females--who announce they've brought cookies/fruit for everyone.  Gliders:  The few but obvious employees with effortless fashion, who are friendly, self-assured, and always have the perfect comeback to an inevitable morning zinger.

And me?  I'm in full observer/scared rabbit mode.  I come in, greet people as they enter, but usually stay in my own little world until someone asks me a question.  And my own little world is a sad and frantic place.  Because my trainer also has a full work load to complete each day, my training is fast and sporadic.  This morning, no one had time to give me something to do until a full hour after I'd arrived.  So I sorted my emails.  I read about twenty reports with information I don't understand.  I tried to look busy, but ended up checking the news on my phone for a few minutes.

When my trainer does have a few minutes, he slides over on his chair and starts a rapid fire assault of the keyboard.  I've known this guy for a while--he was my boss back at my previous store--and knew that he would be tough.  When he first trained me two years ago, it was a nightmare.  He is so smart, so fast, so meticulous that he made every new procedure he taught me seem like it was supposed to be common sense and that I was just the idiot who didn't understand.  I ended up learning the job very fast, but I still don't think it was worth the constant feeling that I was always on the verge of being disappointing.  Eventually, when I began training people, I walked them through every single step a million times before letting them do anything on their own--I gave them little tests, practice runs with reports, asked them questions, and made a 45 page guide on everything they could ever need to know about our inventory.  I updated the guide every two weeks so they could always refer back to it if they were uncertain about procedures or any other random information.

But now, I don't have the luxury of a slow and thorough training.  On my first day, I went home in a daze.  "What did they have you do today?" people asked.  "I sent out 5,000 scarves" was my reply.  Five.  Thousand.  Scarves.  I took several pages of notes that were only 30% comprehensible, was shown over twenty different reports that I'll be receiving every morning from now on, and then I sent 5,000 scarves to 220 stores.  It was like being pushed into a freezing cold lake while someone above you yells, "SWIM, you idiot".

It's now been four days. Right after I got home, I opened my computer and started on my self-given homework.  Before I left the office, I created some fake reports and emailed them to myself so I could do some trial and error order making without anyone around to see.  I hate asking questions when I feel like I should already know the answer, and I hate the beginning stages of any learning process.  I just want to be perfect for everyone immediately.  So I worked on these spreadsheets, making dozens of stupid mistakes along the way, before I finally ended up making exactly what I'd wanted.  And then I made myself do it three more times so I wouldn't forget.

I am more than relieved that tomorrow is Friday.  I'm not used to dreading work, but I have dreaded every day if this week so far.  I just want it to be over.  And I just want to speed through time until I am perfect.

Clone

This is sad for me to admit, but I feel like I've pretty much lost my sense of fashion identity.  That could sound like a petty or idiotic comment, and yet I write it with remorse.  It would be one thing if I didn't give a damn about clothes or appearance--if I had an empty closet and if I channeled all my funds to a savings account.

The truth is, I work for a certain clothing company (from here on out referred to as Company X) where I am required to wear their clothes--minus shoes--every day.  Because there is such a strict dress code, I am also given a minimum of 50% off for all their styles, and receive a $300 clothing bonus twice a year.  An $80 pullover becomes an affordable $40--a $22 casual striped mid-length tee becomes a paltry $11.  And during the holiday season, our company sends out a massive discount packet (last year's was probably around 30 pages) of styles at an extra discount ($75 dresses for $12, 3 button downs (originally priced at $52 each) for $40, and so on).  So obviously, when I am surrounded by fashionable co-workers in a fashionable company, I end up buying almost all of my clothing from Company X.  Almost as in...98%.

The thing is, when I first started, I grappled hard at keeping my former style, which varied depending on my mood (vintage bohemian one day, old school preppy the next).  But as more and more of my closet became crammed with Company X's apparel, my "civilian" threads got pushed to the black hole of my dresser.  I stopped buying clothes from other stores because, in my mind, what was the point?  I have to wear Company X's clothing five days a week, and I stopped going out to parties and clubs once I moved to Maryland.

Now, I sometimes force myself to not wear anything by Company X when I am not at work.  And it's painful--horrible.  Nothing seems to fit right and the cuts seem wrong on everything.  There are a handful of items that I can still wear and feel good in, but strangely, those are all men's plaid button up shirts that I just wear long and open with a pair of skinny jeans, white t-shirt, and Dr. Marten's.

Sometimes, I drag Dean along to a shop, insisting, "I swear, I'm going to buy something this time.  I PROMISE."  It's all in vain.  I stomp around the store with a pleading, pitiful look on my face, sometimes moaning, "Oh my god, all I want is a tank top.   A TANK TOP!"  Dean will hold up some examples with a hopeful expression, but I just end up waving the items away in despair.  Um, did I mention that shopping with me can a dramatic, frustrating affair?  I make Dean come with me because I need the company and he's such a good sport.  His only plus is that for every item that I choose to try on, he gets to choose one for me, as well.  This has turned into a deliciously evil sport for him.  So while I am fretting over a gorgeous Rag and Bone cardigan, he is creeping up behind me with a leopard-print pants suit and his camera phone ready.  I have actually refused to try on clothes that I like because of the outfits he has chosen as his prize.

Um...I just spent thirty minutes trying to find some examples of my current fashion style, but I only could find like, three outfits, which is pathetic.  So please enjoy viewing these two awkward photos that I took while testing out the remote for my DSLR when Dean and I took photos for our Christmas card last year....

This title is from "Clone" by Metric

back to that photograph
can you clone me?
i look like everyone you know now

I love this jumper.  It weighs a ton and sheds a lot, but it's still fantastic.  I have it in red and white, as well.   People will literally stop me in a supermarket or shopping center and ask where it is from (especially the white one.  A little ajumma demanded I tell her where I got it once).  Anyway, just posting two selcas today. Back to eating Chinese left overs.

More Adventurous

After a momentary freak out last night, I think I've calmed down.  Dean and I got a lot of packing completed today, spoke to our apartment management about leaving (because it's job-related, there is no penalty), set up a credit card account with my bank, and got at least eight boxes packed up.  We also found $45 in change!  We decided to get Chinese food from our favorite takeout place in Rockville, but I do feel incredibly sorry for the little old woman who runs the place.

The worst thing about packing?  It makes you feel like the entire universe has been hiding in your apartment. You find things you can't even imagine that you spent money on, or odd gifts that never got used, or clothes that were bought, worn once, and then vanished into domestic oblivion.  Lipgloss.  Feminine products.  Hair elastics and bobby bins.  Cables and cords that went with who knows what.

So far, we are dividing things into four sections: 1) things for our suitcases that we will need immediately upon arrival 2) things that will be boxed up and shipped to LA, that we want but don't need immediately 3) things that we still want but don't need in LA that will stay at my parents' house in WV and 4) things that I don't want to throw away and feel that my friends/co-workers/family will want for free.  That last box is pretty cool---shoes that were never worn, a ton of barely used body products from BB&W/The Body Shop, some perfume, really cute headbands, styling products, Yankee Candles that were used maybe twice, etc.  Everything else?  TRASH.  Goodbye, Big Bang socks with worn out soles....goodbye, super cute hoody with a hole eaten through the left elbow.

Here is our change.  Dean just came home with the Chinese food.  :D

Picture from today.  See--tired and weary, but otherwise, okay.  This is my post-nervous breakdown phase.  I added a crown and a star necklace because I wanted to look fancy.  FANCY.

Peace.

Breathing Underwater

It's been a while since I've really made an effort at blogging.  Please be patient with me as I try to find that old rhythm again.

In exactly two weeks, I will be moving to LA.  It has me stressed, terrified, anxious...and lately, a little excited.  This plan to relocate didn't take shape from desperation or desire--it simply came to me, offered a handshake, and made its case.  Dean and I debated over it for around four months, actually, until we had pretty much exasperated my corporate office to the point of them saying, "If you want this, you have three weeks to get out here".  After nights upon nights of back and forth lists, pros and cons, our feeeeeeeelings, etc, the answer was clear: we still feel too young to be living in the suburbs of Maryland.  Our local peers are devoted to politics, law, business, and health care. Their SUVs littered with stickers about how much they love their [insert specific breed of dog here] or their favorite football teams.  They have a house, they have kids (and, according to their bumper stickers, kids that are a lot smarter/sportier/cooler than YOUR kids), they have their shit together.