Thirty, flirty and thriving.

If the weekend of my thirtieth birthday is any indication of what my thirties will be like, OH MY GOD. There are possibly better words for all the happiness that is floating adrift in my body, but they don’t exist yet. MY HAPPINESS IS SO PROGRESSIVE, YOU GUYS.

Also. I completed my very first week at my very new job. You know that feeling when you get dumped by a guy, and you’re very sad and very down on yourself because WHY? And then you find a new guy who values you, respects you, appreciates you, has time for you, is excited to have you, and basically isn’t an asshole? IT’S LIKE THAT. Just like that. In one week I feel more welcomed, more valued, more useful and more at ease than I felt in the year and a half prior. So this is what it’s like to have found the right fit, huh? This is that magical feeling everyone talks about. I’m excited for what’s to come, and have so far very much enjoyed what I’ve been doing. Plus they keep Dunkin’ Donuts coffee on hand, and you guys, that stuff is amazing.

There are SO many fun things to discuss about this weekend, like the 31-mile trail race I ran with my bestest good friends on Saturday for my birthday, and the tattoo I got drilled into my ribs this afternoon, but I just don’t have the patience to let it all flow from my fingertips just yet. So I shall provide you with photos for now, and that will have to do.

And to everyone who helped make the beginning of this new decade the greatest beginning to date: L-O-V-E.

Edited: February 5th, 2012

I will miss you, couch.

Four hours after returning home from my second interview, I received a call and was offered the job.

JUST LIKE THAT.

“We were all just delighted to meet you today,” he said. “We’d like to give you the job.”

I nearly wet myself. I start Monday. All of a sudden what felt like an eternity of worthlessness and job hunting was dwindled down to just two more days. This is officially my final weekend of unemployment. I can now join the rest of the civilized world in saying, “Ah, shit. I’ve gotta go to work on Monday.”

IT’S SO MUCH FUN TO SAY THAT, YOU GUYS.

It feels like the first day of school all over again. I want to pack up my backpack with my new folders and notebooks, my gym shoes, and my paint shirt for art class. I want to wear a new outfit and arrange photos in my locker in the most appealing way. It’s funny because I remember this feeling nearly two years ago as I prepared for a new job. Does that make me nervous, considering the outcome of that adventure? Sure. But I’m ready for this. I’m excited to join a group of people who were so incredibly welcoming and kind yesterday. I felt comfortable and wanted. I will kick ass in the most ass-kicking kind of way.

So as I transition from unemployed cat lady to PR & Social  Media Account Executive (with cats), I thank you all for the well-wishes and encouragement and support the last three, very long months. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find portraits of Harley and Chicken to have framed for my new desk.

Edited: January 26th, 2012

Do they hire cats, too?

As I sit here on my couch, blogging, wearing sweatpants, stealing snuggles from Chicken, who is unreasonably adorable this afternoon, I’ve come to the realization that I’ve totally forgotten how to be employed. I mean, sure, I can do a job. Work I’m good at. But, what do you mean, I have to wake up in the morning? I have to shower? Wear decent clothing? I can’t spend all day, every day, so help me god, with my cats?

I DO NOT COMPREHEND THIS LANGUAGE YOU SPEAK.

I’ve adjusted into this awful life of lethargy and monotony. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to do anything else.

I had interview No. 2 this afternoon for the aforementioned Job I Really Want. I thought it went fantastic. It felt fantastic. (Was it fantastic?) About as fantastic as sitting in a room with 10 people, all of whom are deciding your fate, can be. But they’re a fun group. It felt comfortable and casual and we talked about Dexter, you guys. DEXTER. And Glee! And cats. And running. And also, you know, the job, but also all those other things that are so up my alley. I shook hands, I got a tour, I’ve been told I should hear the outcome this week.

THIS WEEK.

All two days that are left of it!

Last night I slept with my St. Anthony prayer card under my pillow. YES I DID. I like to say I slept with a Saint last night. Boy, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for a job, is there? I also had teeny little unicorn in my pocket again during the interview.  I’ve officially done all I can do, and it is out of my nervous little, thumb-twiddling hands.

So now I wait. And wonder what, exactly, I’ll do if offered a job and am granted access to the working world once again. I guess I’ll put on real pants, that’s for sure. I can say for certain that I won’t miss this. The monotony and the lethargy and the empty bank account. But if I can be honest for a second (NEVER), I will totally miss my cats. Think I can bring them along?

Edited: January 25th, 2012

The time I wasn’t arrested for being a low-life.

Saturday night, around the midnight hour, I was on my way home from my sister’s apartment across town. I remember thinking, “Boy, my headlights are awful dim. They must be covered in snow.” Approximately 3 minutes later, a cop pulled a U-turn after I passed him, red and blues a’blazing.

SHIT.

I did a quick assessment in my head of everything I’ve done wrong. Drank two beers tonight. I don’t have a job. Can they arrest you for unemployment? I’m not drunk, am I? Did I kill anyone today? Am I speeding? What day is it? 

Cop man strolled up to my window.

“You know your headlight’s out?” he asks, as I slap my forehead.

“I do now,” I said. But he wasn’t done.

“And your license plate is expired.”

SHIT.

Thankfully he didn’t arrest me for being a low-life with no job, and he did let me go with a warning for the dead headlight, but he did not let me get away so easily for the expired plates. Eighty-right dollar fine, BAM. And I went on my merry way.

[FIVE MINUTES LATER, ON THE BELTLINE]

A car comes alongside me with a missing headlight. I laugh. Sucker, I think. Immediately behind that guy is a sheriff. I laugh again because OMG HE IS TOTALLY GOING TO PULL THAT GUY OVER FOR HIS MISSING HEADLIGHT. Justice! Both cars are just ahead of me in the left lane.  Just then, the sheriff slows. Slows waaaay down. Wait a minute, he’s switching lanes. HE’S GETTING BEHIND ME. WHY IS THE SHERIFF BEHIND ME? GO GET THAT OTHER GUY! HIS HEADLIGHT IS OUT!

[red and blue lights]

FUCK!

Hardly five minutes after being pulled over at midnight on a Saturday night, I’m being pulled over again. I JUST DOUBLED THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I’VE BEEN PULLED OVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE IN FIVE MINUTES. I knock my head against the head rest of my seat.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME THIS IS NOT HAPPENING WHAT THE HELL OH MY GOD THERE IS NO JESUS.”

This is seriously not happening. Is this happening? Did this happen? Am I alive? Is this the part where they arrest the low-life? Is this karma? Who will take care of my cats? Can I say goodbye to my mom?

Sheriff comes strolling up. I roll down my window, previous traffic violation time-stamped FIVE MINUTES AGO in hand, along with my drivers license.

“Hi there — ” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Hi, my headlight’s out, I know. And my plates are expired. I know this all because I was just pulled over five minutes ago for the exact same thing,” I tell him with a defeated sigh. Luckily he laughs. Oh, thank you, sweet Lord. With that he taps the hood of my car with his flashlight and sends me on my way.

I am pleased to say I made it the remaining six miles home without incident. Also without a headlight. DID YOU KNOW MY HEADLIGHT WAS OUT? BECAUSE I WASN’T CERTAIN. UNTIL NOW. THANK YOU, POLICE. TWICE. I’m also pleased to say that as of today, my license plates are no longer expired AND my headlight is fixed.

I am now the most law-abiding driver you know. But I’m still a low-life. Don’t worry.

Edited: January 23rd, 2012

A circle is round, it has no end. That’s probably not how long we’re going to be friends.

I’ve not always been the best friend. I am human. Weird, right? I’ve had falling outs within many groups of friends as far back as high school. It happens among the females. I’ve been disappointing, I’ve been disappointed. So many close friends in my life have been like sisters to me. I love them unconditionally, but goddamn, they can piss me off. Irritate me. Dumbfound me. Disappoint me. And at the same time, they bring an amazing, dynamic relationship into my life.

It’s my personality. As much as I love the people in my life, I’m also a bit of a homebody. I love alone time. I love quiet. I love keeping to myself from time to time. Too much of too many people and I’m, like, clawing at the walls wanting to escape. I liken it to going home for a weekend to spend time with family. I can’t WAIT to get there. I love my family. It’s typically always a great time. But by Sunday night all I want to do is throw myself through the storm door window and run back to my home where it is safe and quiet and I don’t have to talk to anyone anymore. It makes me grumpy. All I want at that moment is me. As much as I fear, “Wow, what if I’m alone my whole life?” I realize, “Wow, I’m really good at alone.”

But many of the ways I’ve behaved in friendships has disappointed even myself. Some of the things I’ve thought, and in some cases, said, have made me realize I’m certainly not being a good friend all the time. I think of how I’d feel if it were reversed, and I’d be hurt. A lot. We girls can be so fickle and so catty. And when I find out the situation has been reversed, there I am, hurt. I shouldn’t be surprised. I am anyway.

I want to be a better friend. I need to be a better friend. I want to be the friend I want for myself. I want to only put effort into a friendship if effort is deserved. Friendships should be open, honest. There should be communication. In so many ways they’re just like romantic relationships. There is no space in my life, or my mind, for the petty. For the exhaustion of friendships that aren’t true. Especially not now. I have enough to worry about. Some friendships, like relationships, just aren’t meant to be. There doesn’t need to be an argument. There doesn’t need to be a falling out. There doesn’t need to be ill feelings. All that’s left is the slow letting go of a person who’s no longer providing a positive in your life.

It’s sad. But it’s life.

But just maybe it makes room for personal growth and something happier.

Edited: January 22nd, 2012