Fortunes and horoscopes are funny. When I'm single and life is dandy, I don't bother with them. If there is any sort of stress or drama around - I check out the 'scopes.
When I was torn before making the decision to go to New York, I read every horoscope, I could get my hands on. I was ripping through magazines to get to the last pages to see what they said.
And then there's when there is a boy in the life. A horoscope a day...
I'm not kidding.
Then I get to read the couple versions; his daily horoscope; my daily horoscope; the 'attached Sag' horoscope; you name it, I'm reading it.
Fortune cookies. That's a different story. I'm not so into them.
Even though once, the back of one had the following numbers on it: 10 12 6 77 28 4.
They may not mean anything to you, but in that order, they are my favorite number, my birthdate, the age I was when I read the crazy thing, and the numeral calendar day that I read it.
CRAZY. If you ask me. Yes, I played the lottery that night and sadly, didn't win.
Yesterday, I took Cowboy to my Pei Wei. You know the one where I see someone famous each and every time...well, not this time, but something more memorable happened.
Fortune cookies.
Mine read some crazy bullshit like "the day is a new beginning for me". Really? Isn't that everyday? Whatev.
But his...holy crap, his. He read it, blushed and folded it.
"What does it say?" I had to beg. He shook his head, no way was he sharing it with me. Why not?
Of course I sulked about it. I sulked the entire walk home - don't worry it's a short two blocks.
Finally, he reached into his pocket and showed me:
An Unexpected Relationship Will Become Permanent
Well...maybe the day is a new beginning.
Sunday, November 18
Friday, November 16
I versus We
I've officially kicked I to the curb. It's all about the we now. Except when he's in the room.
Boy, I can be so mean.
While talking to friends about what I did last night or over the weekend, it always begins with "We". Or in response to what my plans are for the holiday, I say, "We aren't spending it together. I'll be in Phoenix and he'll be here"
The we comes first.
But when he asks me things like what are the plans for the weekend, I play it safe and it starts off with, I.
I?
He hates when I use the I and have no invitation to make it a we. This morning, he asked me what was up for the next couple of days.
I said, "I'm going to a museum party and then Sunday, I'm eating brunch with friends. What are you doing?"
Wrong answer, I.
When he speaks it's all about the we. Maybe I should get on board.
Boy, I can be so mean.
While talking to friends about what I did last night or over the weekend, it always begins with "We". Or in response to what my plans are for the holiday, I say, "We aren't spending it together. I'll be in Phoenix and he'll be here"
The we comes first.
But when he asks me things like what are the plans for the weekend, I play it safe and it starts off with, I.
I?
He hates when I use the I and have no invitation to make it a we. This morning, he asked me what was up for the next couple of days.
I said, "I'm going to a museum party and then Sunday, I'm eating brunch with friends. What are you doing?"
Wrong answer, I.
When he speaks it's all about the we. Maybe I should get on board.
Thursday, November 15
I'm Not Dead
Just lazy.
I think I'd be much happier working at J.Crew* right now than the job that I have. You know, the one that I used to love so much.
Driving to the office is a pain in my ass. I put up with other cars every day to only arrive to an office where the moral is so low. I spend 75% of my time reading blogs and searching for a new job.
It's like last summer, but there's no television and I have to be present at the office. And y'all remember last summer? Lots of interviews and lots of rejection.
WELCOME BACK!
I hate the official standardized rejection letter. I take that back, it really isn't like last summer so much as it's like that time in high school - when I'd run home to check the mailbox for acceptance letters from colleges. Only to get rejected.
You get the mail. You see the letter. You automatically know the news ain't good because the envelope is so thin. You read it anyway. Shit, you may be crazy like me, and read it more than twice. Because? The words on the paper may have rearranged themselves or you may have read it completely wrong (because 3rd grade reading class didn't work) and you were accepted. Yah!
Not so much.
Anyway, I hate those f*%&ing letters. I do.
More than those letters, I hate going to work. I don't know why I bother. I'm not allowed in any of the super secret NYC headquarter conference calls or meetings. They are so special.
Each time they have one, one thought enters my mind: I had an offer and I don't anymore. How the F did I have a New York city offer and I'm not moving to New York City? How the F?
And then the scary me comes out and its all panic. Panic that I won't have a job lined up or GASP! even worse I won't have a job lined up sooner than the end date - which is what I prefer.
I seriously prefer to be out of there by next week. That ain't happening.
It's like I told Bev, I'd much rather be a nanny to someone's brat child than spend another day at my office.
Hmm...maybe I should start the hunt for that job. Surely, it's better than this.
*I thought I'd be happier at the GAP, but then I was in the mall today and I just covet everything in the J.Crew windows and on their manequins. Have you been there, lately? It's a lot of goodies up in there.
I think I'd be much happier working at J.Crew* right now than the job that I have. You know, the one that I used to love so much.
Driving to the office is a pain in my ass. I put up with other cars every day to only arrive to an office where the moral is so low. I spend 75% of my time reading blogs and searching for a new job.
It's like last summer, but there's no television and I have to be present at the office. And y'all remember last summer? Lots of interviews and lots of rejection.
WELCOME BACK!
I hate the official standardized rejection letter. I take that back, it really isn't like last summer so much as it's like that time in high school - when I'd run home to check the mailbox for acceptance letters from colleges. Only to get rejected.
You get the mail. You see the letter. You automatically know the news ain't good because the envelope is so thin. You read it anyway. Shit, you may be crazy like me, and read it more than twice. Because? The words on the paper may have rearranged themselves or you may have read it completely wrong (because 3rd grade reading class didn't work) and you were accepted. Yah!
Not so much.
Anyway, I hate those f*%&ing letters. I do.
More than those letters, I hate going to work. I don't know why I bother. I'm not allowed in any of the super secret NYC headquarter conference calls or meetings. They are so special.
Each time they have one, one thought enters my mind: I had an offer and I don't anymore. How the F did I have a New York city offer and I'm not moving to New York City? How the F?
And then the scary me comes out and its all panic. Panic that I won't have a job lined up or GASP! even worse I won't have a job lined up sooner than the end date - which is what I prefer.
I seriously prefer to be out of there by next week. That ain't happening.
It's like I told Bev, I'd much rather be a nanny to someone's brat child than spend another day at my office.
Hmm...maybe I should start the hunt for that job. Surely, it's better than this.
*I thought I'd be happier at the GAP, but then I was in the mall today and I just covet everything in the J.Crew windows and on their manequins. Have you been there, lately? It's a lot of goodies up in there.
Wednesday, November 7
Smile
A couple weeks ago when I was undecided about moving to New York, each day I'd come home and weigh a new possibility against it. Money, friends, moving, job security, my boss and him. And every day when I recanted the same old pros/cons list to him against the new variable, he listened.
He supported every outcome from each decision. He did so self-less-ly. When I was 100% a go to New York, he stood by it. The question of "us" wasn't answered. He wanted me to do what I wanted to do.
Then, of course he asked me to stay. Yes, it was too late for that but then the tables turned.
Every day he tells me how grateful he is that I am not going. Not to be selfish, but as support. One, I was not too happy about, at first. I can honestly tell you that. He knows that now I'm in a terribly sticky situation of having to look for another job meaning leaving a job that I love.
This is not about that. It's about him. And me. And love.
I have never seen or touched love like this before. I can honestly tell you that, too.
He amazes me and last night I realized it, for the first time, without hyping it up to some romantic hopeless notion. It was just a raw, honest conclusion.
Yeah, I've said 'I love you' to other boyfriends and I've also said it to Cowboy. But until last night, I never knew that I never meant it. Before.
How the heck does that happen? It just hit me, hard.
Everything in the past? That was not love.
I'm not trying to paint a pretty picture for y'all. The canvas is there, the paint is ready, we have the brushes and if I could make them all meet and create something for everyone to understand exactly how he makes me feel, I would. Then, everyone would know and would also feel exactly how I feel. Which is pretty damn good.
And we're still just plain h-a-p-p-y.
Happy.
He supported every outcome from each decision. He did so self-less-ly. When I was 100% a go to New York, he stood by it. The question of "us" wasn't answered. He wanted me to do what I wanted to do.
Then, of course he asked me to stay. Yes, it was too late for that but then the tables turned.
Every day he tells me how grateful he is that I am not going. Not to be selfish, but as support. One, I was not too happy about, at first. I can honestly tell you that. He knows that now I'm in a terribly sticky situation of having to look for another job meaning leaving a job that I love.
This is not about that. It's about him. And me. And love.
I have never seen or touched love like this before. I can honestly tell you that, too.
He amazes me and last night I realized it, for the first time, without hyping it up to some romantic hopeless notion. It was just a raw, honest conclusion.
Yeah, I've said 'I love you' to other boyfriends and I've also said it to Cowboy. But until last night, I never knew that I never meant it. Before.
How the heck does that happen? It just hit me, hard.
Everything in the past? That was not love.
I'm not trying to paint a pretty picture for y'all. The canvas is there, the paint is ready, we have the brushes and if I could make them all meet and create something for everyone to understand exactly how he makes me feel, I would. Then, everyone would know and would also feel exactly how I feel. Which is pretty damn good.
And we're still just plain h-a-p-p-y.
Happy.
Monday, November 5
Done
I've so mentally peaced out of my job, it is unreal. I am so over it.
I don't do anything proactively anymore - it's all reaction to everything. I'm not writing emails, only replying. I don't pick up the phone when it rings, I only return the urgent, important messages. My boss basically has to tell me she needs something completed.
Where I usually got to the office at 7:30am (because I'm a trooper, like that), I get there around 8:45, minutes before my boss.
I can be caught socializing with other 'done' employees way beyond a "break".
I just don't care. Why should I?
I have 3 interviews this week and you better believe they are all scheduled during the work day. I don't care.
Today I took a 2 hour lunch at the mall and the Nordstroms cafe. I even ate dessert.
It's so sad, but why should I over-exert myself when technically they can let me go at any moment. I've only made the decision not to do anything to make a second thought for them.
Oh, well.
Peace out! And don't think for a minute, I'd give a 2 week notice. Hell no. I don't think I'm going to get one when they are ready, as the business needs are, to let me go.
Because when I'm done, I'm done and when I'm finished, I'm overcooked and ready to be out of there.
I don't do anything proactively anymore - it's all reaction to everything. I'm not writing emails, only replying. I don't pick up the phone when it rings, I only return the urgent, important messages. My boss basically has to tell me she needs something completed.
Where I usually got to the office at 7:30am (because I'm a trooper, like that), I get there around 8:45, minutes before my boss.
I can be caught socializing with other 'done' employees way beyond a "break".
I just don't care. Why should I?
I have 3 interviews this week and you better believe they are all scheduled during the work day. I don't care.
Today I took a 2 hour lunch at the mall and the Nordstroms cafe. I even ate dessert.
It's so sad, but why should I over-exert myself when technically they can let me go at any moment. I've only made the decision not to do anything to make a second thought for them.
Oh, well.
Peace out! And don't think for a minute, I'd give a 2 week notice. Hell no. I don't think I'm going to get one when they are ready, as the business needs are, to let me go.
Because when I'm done, I'm done and when I'm finished, I'm overcooked and ready to be out of there.
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