Attitude is everything.

13 01 2014

I am having a down day, which led to me missing the walk in advising hours that I need to attend for class, which leads me to tell myself that I’m useless and I should give up.

But I sent an e-mail to an instructor on the advising schedule, and we see what we do, no? I’ll keep going. And try to write in the meantime. I’ve got work tomorrow.

I don’t like work anymore.

And you know why? The director of the place where I work is terrible. I think a good boss is someone who can manage, delegate, take responsibility, and tell people the truth without dragging them down. Someone who can inspire people to follow them, rather than someone who is followed because their subordinates have no choice.

She called me into her office, and blindsided me with everything I was doing wrong. (I was out for a while with the stomach flu, and apparently I had a chronic lateness problem, which no one mentioned up until that moment. I admit that being late isn’t good, but it wasn’t as if I was strolling in half an hour late every day, and again, no one said anything.)

And my real problem was that the entire meeting was essentially ‘This is why you suck, and I should fire you, but I’m doing you a favor and not doing it’ and she was condescending the entire time. I was in tears. And apparently I’m not the only one she’s done this to! People are uncomfortable. And my co-workers say they enjoy my presence and that I work well with them and that I can do the job. No one has complained about how I work or how I speak to them, yet she said that my former immediate superior said I came off as defensive. Yet no one told me that either so that I could modify my behavior before it got to that level!

Sorry. I’m mad. So now I don’t feel confident at work anymore, if I see the director I get tense and I think poorly of her, I notice other people’s complaints more…it’s not a good environment. I’ll last until I’ve been there a year, and then I’m done. It’s not as if it’s my dream job anyway.

I know everyone can’t have their dream job. But I think I could make it as a writer, or maybe an editor, if I study, if I practice! Besides, I think I’ve figured out that a nine to five doing something that I don’t like or is boring isn’t sustainable for me anyway. I’m such a delicate flower, after all. Tee hee.

Like I said, attitude is everything. And even though today is a down day, I think everything is going to be all right.

On a high note, Magpie got a new job. Yay! He is super excited, as he gets. (Maybe not quite as excited as he is about the game he’s writing, but he’s pretty into his own head anyway.) Maybe a little place together isn’t so far off.

It’s a little scary to be making future plans, but I’m going to go with it. Attitude is everything.

…even when your boss sucks.

Sincerely yours,




How Long is the Honeymoon Period, anyway?

31 12 2013

I’m at work, so I guess technically I’m not supposed to be blogging, but a. Nothing is going on except for the occasional phone call and client coming in, b. no one is watching me, and c. it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m bored.

So whatever.

I think I have a cold, which means it’s probably advisable not to get super drunk tonight? Right? Anyone?

Nah. Totally drinking anyway. Also possibly getting cake. ‘Cause it wasn’t just my birthday or anything and I didn’t eat…about half the cake? No, it wasn’t half the cake. I mean, Magpie (my boyfriend, so nicknamed because of his propensity to spot and pick up shiny things on the ground) had some, Mom had some, and two others had some, so…maybe I ate a third of the cake over…four days? (Guess what my New Year’s Resolution is? Back on Weight Watchers!)

Cake cake cake cake cake. Seriously, if anyone’s ever in New York City- (Is this the first time I’ve actually mentioned where I am? No one come look for me! Tee hee. Actually, if I ever met anyone who read this blog I’d probably be all OMG let’s be friends and want to swap e-mails.)

Anyway, if anyone’s in New York City, go to Sal’s and…is it Dino?’s Crap, I don’t remember and I can’t check Yelp on my-oh, never mind, I can. (I’ve been surfing the net for the last fifteen minutes or so. I am easily distracted. Especially by Cake Wrecks.) Anyway, it’s Sal’s and Dom’s. Best red velvet cake I’ve had. So. Good. OMG. It’s in the Bronx and around the holidays it’s a madhouse but OMG CAKE. EAT IT.

Ahem. I love cake. That is all.

I really do have to work out more, my stamina is crap. It probably doesn’t help that I stopped working out after I got the stomach flu, which wiped me out even after I stopped throwing up. Nausea plus dizziness plus exhaustion equals J.J. curled up in front of Netflix and eating sour candies and drinking ginger ale and not moving.

I have really started baking. For the holidays I made gingerbread cookies, brownies for Magpie’s parents, sugar cookies for a holiday party, and now I want to learn to make bread, so I’m doing what I always do and going online to read tutorials. …I supposed I will have to buy a loaf pan. I mean, I think I have one, but a. I have no idea where it is or what shape it’s in, b. I really don’t feel like ransacking my entire kitchen to find it, and c. I seem to end up needing two for this recipe I found. So two new loaf pans it is.

I also need to practice piping icing, ’cause holy hell it is harder than it looks. You think you just squeeze the bag, the icing comes out in a neat little line, and you paint smiles on your gingerbread people/decorations on your cake. No! You have to squeeze the bag with both hands, and keep it steady or it looks like you’re trying to make dashes instead of lines, and the icing has to be fresh and if you squeeze too hard you just make a mess and if you squeeze too lightly nothing happens or the icing comes out in these dots that look like white bunny poop. Man, this sudden desire to be Betty Crocker is difficult.

It’s so quiet. I think I’ll play some music. *goes to Pandora* Ooh, Rent. Light My Candle is pretty depressing, really. ‘Hey, my girlfriend died/I do drugs and I’m a S&M dancer/I think I like you/Me too/Our lives aren’t that great.’

Oh, I got my first rejection! A few weeks ago, from the student literary magazine. I was almost expecting it, because I rushed my submission, but I still hoped. But no. I was apparently trying to be Lolita, cliché, and lacking editing skills. Ouch. I guess I’d better step it up, or get into a new gig, no? It’s a little humbling, when I thought I could just go on in, but I guess writing really is like everything else, in which you have to practice.

Holy cheese, 700 words and I just now get to the topic mentioned in the title of the post.

How long is the honeymoon period? After lengthy research (by which I mean whatever sites I could get to from Google that aren’t blocked at work), it seems to be anywhere from a few months to two years after marriage. So, what, I’m going to be happy to see Magpie for…well, I don’t think we’re getting married anytime soon, but we’ve survived my mood swings, my stomach flu, his issues, my issues, small arguments, and the fact that we both live with our parents, and it’s only been six months-ish. So, is our honeymoon period over? How are you supposed to know? And I’ve seen people together twenty years who act like they’re still mad about each other and people who break up a few months in, so how does that work?

I think this is typical me. ‘I’m happy with something. WHAT’S GOING TO GO WRONG?’

You know what? I’m just going to go with it. I’m happy. I’m not going to try to dissect it for once. If our biggest issue that he doesn’t like that I eat pork (he doesn’t on the grounds that pigs are smart and that chicken and fish are stupid and therefore okay to eat) and I get annoyed that he tries to do high kicks on the subway platform and people stare, I think we’re fine.  (I’m considering maybe giving up pork. Maybe. I like pork. If he promises not to do high kicks on the subway ’cause it’s embarrassing and I worry that he’ll accidentally kick someone and then we become the people who get into a fight on the subway.)

I think I might buy him some pants next paycheck. He needs new pants that don’t look like they’re made to do construction in. He doesn’t really dress up ever ’cause he’s that type. But he looks so good in a button down! /stupid girlfriend whining

I try not to be the ‘omg change your clothes fix your hair what are those shoes’ girlfriend, I really do, but it’s like, ‘Babe, you dress like you’re in high school, stop it.’ Oh well, it doesn’t seem to bother him much. He’s pretty unflappable. Unless I make him watch Project Runway, which he doesn’t like. Probably because it’s about drama and clothes, two things he doesn’t care about. But he says I’m a good girlfriend, so I will try to stay that way. Also we have excellent cuddles and he’s emotionally supportive and- *stops before she goes on and on about how awesome the BF is*

Quick really shameful shallow note: I sometimes wish he were hotter. I mean, I’m attracted to him, and he’s not ugly by any means. But I think my urge to dress him up is a shallow need to have other people think he’s attractive and think that I have an ugly boyfriend. But that’s treating him like a status symbol, and he’s a person, and a good person at that, so I’m trying to get over it. I’m no model anyway. (I’m pretty, but that’s totally different.) Well, actually, a lot of models aren’t that pretty, if we’re talking about conventionally pretty. They’re too tall and angular and such. Whatever. My point is that I love him, but I am apparently shallow enough to wish that he would not dress and cut his hair like a high schooler! I’m going to get stopped one day by a cop who thinks I’ve got a boy-toy!

Okay, this post is getting long, so I’m going to stop now. Happy New Year, everyone!

Sincerely yours,


Going on the New Year

30 12 2012

Only a week until I find out if my job’s going to keep me. If they don’t-oh well. The money would be nice, but it’s not as if I’ll be totally crushed or anything. I’m comfortable there-as comfortable as I would be anywhere, since I’m never quite comfortable with people around my age or colleagues. My lingering lack of self confidence tries to convince me that no one likes me and that they’re whispering behind my back. But whether it’s true or not, I can’t do anything about it, and most of my co-workers are not people whose opinion I value.

BB and I are back to sending dirty texts messages to each other, but then he goes and responds to my compliment by wishing that he had someone on his side of the ocean who felt that way. Ouch. That stung. I mean, I know I’m just the penfriend, but he knows I like him, so why would he say that? Unless he didn’t get exactly what I meant-he doesn’t seem to be the type to be deliberately cruel.

That little episode made me feel so much relief that I’m not pregnant. (I thought I might be, as my period hasn’t shown up, but the test says I’m not, so I’m good.) I was a little disappointed (goddamn biological clock), but oh god, can you imagine? I’m not in a place to have a kid right now, and I really didn’t want to do a transatlantic ‘Hey, guess what, I’m having your baby’ phone call. (We did use protection, in case anyone is wondering, but it’s not perfect, and since I’m not pregnant, I’m either getting my period or the flu. I hope it’s the first one, but either way I feel like crap.)

Big C says that while me and BB might not be in the cards right now, but I shouldn’t shut the door, shouldn’t believe that there’s no way of it happening, even if he’s with someone else. (He’s not right now, and he might not get to be with someone, and even if he does, that’s not necessarily a forever relationship.) And though I’m afraid that I’ll get too attached to him-which I already am in some ways-I might just be able to keep him in my heart somewhere as a dear friend and fall in love with someone else, or who knows. It hasn’t even been two months, which is why I feel silly. But maybe it’s not so silly, because if he lived in this city I would have made my intentions very clear from the start. Oh well. It’s not like I don’t have other things to do in the meantime. …like check craigslist for more jobs, tee hee. I say tee hee a lot.

Well, I should get some writing done. To those of you that read this, thanks for reading! I know this blog is sort of random, but it’s my voice, and I like it!

Sincerely yours,


Lousy Lousy Day

4 12 2012

Got very little sleep. Woke up with a headache, shrugged it off. Went to work.


Two hours into work I’m dizzy, with a headache, and feeling feverish and queasy. I keep going until I start coughing like I’m dying. Then my boss is like ‘Go home and get your germs off everything.’ I get on the train and go home. Then I forget my bag on the train, which means I lost my new work shirt, my work tie, my name tag, two bags of snacks, and my uneaten lunch, which means I lost the two containers it was in. Crap crap crap.

Now I’m in bed typing, because I’m not sleepy but I’m tired and the pinky on my left hand is twitching for some reason, it looks weird. I’m supposed to take the dog out and I can’t summon the energy and BLAH. I hate today.

On the plus side,  everyone at work was nice to me and said they hoped I felt better. It’s always nice when people are kind to you.


On another note, I am a silly romantic young woman. I get happy whenever British Boy e-mails me, even though I know there can’t be anything between us. We only met once, for goodness’ sake! Not to mention the whole ‘Atlantic Ocean in the way’ part. But it doesn’t change that I wish…I don’t know. I’m being silly. People don’t meet once and suddenly decide that they like each other. That’s only in the movies. All the same, I get sad when he doesn’t e-mail me back, and I’m happy when he e-mails me…which he does every morning, it seems like.

He wanted the e-mail to this. I said no, of course, because imagine if he saw this? He’d think I’m a freak or a stalker or something. …Am I? I don’t think so, it’s not like I’m stalking him or thinking we’re going to get married or…I don’t know, going to England to look him up and proclaiming my undying love for him. Because that would be beyond creepy. It’s just a crush, a stupid crush. I haven’t had a proper one in ages, and I like it-something beyond the whole ‘sex with strangers who I haven’t had a conversation with’ thing. British Boy and I may have ‘hooked up’ the night we met, but we actually talked and laughed together. That was something. Maybe I’m so screwed up that I take the tiniest connection as a potential relationship. That’s probably true. I know he doesn’t think anything like that about me.


Wow, I got morose all of a sudden. Maybe I’m just lonely. I would date more, except I’m picky, and don’t mesh well with people, and all the people who message me on OkCupid are sketchy black guys. Seriously, the last one had a match percent of 19 and had a weird beard, smokes and drinks…just no.

Where are you, my somewhat dorky, sweet, understanding beloved?

Sincerely yours,


Working is Hard To Do, Part 2

2 12 2012

My. Feet. Hurt.

And today was a short day! I mean, it was pretty crowded (and Katie Holmes was there, looking normal, with Suri, who is actually cute), but I got ‘service support’ or something as an assignment, so I was going to be floating. (Which means I wouldn’t be in one sport, not that I’m not doing anything.) But then I sort of get roped into the kitchen, which I hate, and then the girl who is supposed to be in the kitchen is almost entirely useless.

She said that she had gotten her appendix taken out, so she couldn’t lift anything heavy. (Why she didn’t just call out, I have no idea.) So I agreed I’d do that, which is a lot of the kitchen job. But then I heard her talking to someone else, and I think she actually had an abortion. Again, why didn’t she call out? Anyway, she couldn’t lift anything, so I got stuck with that, and then she hardly did anything. She carried a few trays and helped me plate desserts and pass out plates, but that was about it. I kept wondering where she was-she’d see me working and just stand there. Talk about frustrating.

And work is wrecking havoc on my Points Plus, because I have to come up with lunch every day, and all the options are crap, and I’m drinking sugary drinks. I don’t think I’m gaining because I’m not sitting down all day anymore, but still. Oh, and I have to reactivate my Weight Watchers account, so I’m tracking on paper, and I have no idea how many weekly points I have. Oy oy oy.

I walked around, looked at the store windows…it was nice, but hard to enjoy with really achy feet…except for one thing.

British Boy and I are still e-mailing every day. It’s little things, and silly things, and flirty things-and yet I still get stupidly happy when he e-mails me. I know I’m being silly about it-we only met once. (It was a good once.) Yet I can’t help it. If only he fancied me too…sigh. (My theme song right now is Merry Christmas, Darling.)

Tomorrow, I plan to make gingerbread cookies! I will take pictures and post them. If I remember to do so, because I am an airhead and I have to get up at 6:30 AM again on Tuesday. Maybe I’ll bring cookies to work if they turn out well, and win some points. I get the feeling sometimes my co workers aren’t too thrilled with me. I will try not to get bogged down, and save more for school. (Money…it just goes places. Name that play!)

Sincerely yours,


Working is Hard to Do

26 11 2012

I spend my days with water, lemonade, soda, champagne, and who knows what else everywhere, get splashed with backwash, carrying heavy things, sweeping the floor, and plating desserts. It is hard work. I don’t get paid much; well, maybe somewhere else, if I was someone else, who had cheaper taste, who wasn’t exposed to better and more expensive things.

The worst part? I’m not really at all mentally stimulated, I’m prideful enough to feel above it, and have just a hard enough time to feel stupid. Also, I feel like I’m being constantly corrected or watched, which is  making me paranoid. In short, I am not having happy fun times. If anything was incentive to get a real job and finish my degree, it would be this. I need to make a budget and save for school. Quickly.


Today I spent a sizable chunk  of money on…LUSH STUFF! YAY! God, that stuff is not cheap. But the Buffy Bar  (exfoliating and moisturizing) made me feel soft and smell good, and there was a green bath bomb that fizzed in the water that made all my aches go away. I felt completely pampered, and that was totally worth it. Also, I got a giant ginger snap cookie. Mm, chewy and spice.

I have to get back on plan tomorrow. I haven’t tracked since Thanksgiving, I’ve been eating all kinds of stuff. Back on track tomorrow. I can’t believe how easy it was to get off track! I thought it was just going to be for Thanksgiving, and now it’s three days later and I’m all ‘Yay chocolates and cookies and sweet potato casserole’. I probably gained weight, but I’m not going to stress about it. Back on plan tomorrow.


British Boy and I are penfriends now, and we e-mail every day at least a couple times. Of course I want him to be my long distance boyfriend, but I’m pretty sure that he’s not interested in that. Which is just frustrating, because he’s sweet, and flirty, and cute, and makes me smile. I am crushing so hard. But c’est la vie. No, no c’est la vie. I want him to be my boyfriend, and I’m only sex and penfriend material. Man, between this and my job my self esteem is taking a beating! …I wish I was Stephen King. …except not. I just want to be able to pay for myself my way, in a way that I don’t find beneath me. (Wow, that was arrogant.) But, I’ll be honest, I think I’m too smart for the job I have. Like the rest of my generation. Oy vey. Okay, time for sleep.


Sincerely yours,