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.