Thursday, May 16, 2013

Why I Put On a Bunch of Makeup and a Corset

Well Blog, with the stress of unemployment comes the loss of appetite and with the loss of appetite comes the ability to stuff my girlish figure into a corset. (See figure A)

Figure A. As in "Awkward stress girl tries her hand at being sexy."
Also I've found that stuffing my girlish figure into a corset is one way I can spend the myriad of time I have at my disposal. Other ways to consume this time include but are not limited to: dancing to the same song over and over again, being referred to as a "circus freak", nearly breaking my ankle in 5 inch heals, and taking dramatic and grainy pictures of my face. (See figure B)

Figure B. As in "Be afraid of me. Please. No? Ok."
In other words, I spent last night spontaneously being a part of a music video for local band El Le Faunt thanks to my roommate Kirsten. I met some cool people and learned that there are such things as sousaphone miracles in this world. (See figure C)
Figure C. As in "See? I told you flames could come out of sousaphone bells. Yes, bells.
Don't worry Blog. Me feeling up that sousaphone was totally a part of my contribution to the music video. I'm excited to see how it turns out.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Womp Womp

So this is unemployment, Blog. It feels terrifying. I'm constantly at the edge of an abyss of time that I have no idea how to spend. And then there's the money thing. Oddly enough, that's not as pressing as my desire to find a direction in which to take my life. Opportunities come up and then I freak out. What if I end up hating what I do like that one time I got stuck in a desk job? But what if I can't find anything else besides a desk job because that's all I know how to do? What if I never find anything and end up one of those people on Nicollet Mall who wears a falling-apart neck brace for no noticeable reason and just looks really sad? Maybe that's what the bottom of that abyss of time looks like. Oh God.

The worst part is I don't know what I want to do. I just had a lot of fun traveling around and performing for a living. I want to keep doing that, but I want to stay in Minneapolis. But if I stay in Minneapolis, I'm going to have to find some kind of daily grind. But what kind of grind do I want to do? I don't know, Blog! Decisions are hard for me. I'm too afraid I'm going to make a mistake and end up doing something I hate.

Hmmm. But if I end up doing something I hate, I could always quit and try something else.

These are basic lessons that you learn when you're in middle school and are figuring out what sport you want to play, Blog. Why am I having such a hard time with this? Apparently I never progressed past the mental capabilities of a 13 year-old.

In other news, I bought a bike today and I'm both terrified and ecstatic about riding it home. Currently I'm downtown and it's rush hour. I'm wearing a dress, have a heavy bag of books with me, and no proficiency in riding road bikes that are slightly tall for me in cities. Things should go about as well as this job search has.

At least unemployment has a nice view.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Wine Is Important, Ok?

Sometimes I think my drinking habits have gotten out of control, Blog.

Case in point: Last week I was staying in a smoky and less-than-adequate Super 8 motel in Bellmawr, New Jersey. The "less-than-adequate" description is due to the shoddy housekeeping we had over the 8 evenings we slept on mattresses with cigarette burns in them. No biggie though. As long as I have clean towels and cups.

But last Wednesday night I didn't have a cup. It was that time of the night where I was turning in to watch The L Word and all I needed to make the evening perfect was a nice cup of wine to accompany all the lesbian sex that was about to happen in front of me. As I fired up the old Netflix and got myself ready for bed, I noticed that housekeeping hadn't kept up with the house enough to provide us with a fresh supply of plastic-wrapped hotel cups. I wish I could say normally this wouldn't be a big deal, but when it comes to wine and The L Word, it's a big deal. Honestly, lesbians aside, it's a big deal. I need a receptacle in which to carry my wine. If I don't have a receptacle in which to carry my wine, it's a big deal. Basically Blog, wine in an accessible container is a big deal to me and if that container is not accessible, than shit gets real.

Did I repeat that enough for you? I didn't? I need to put my wine in something so as to consume it, Blog. I don't know if you got the memo.

I had just spent the evening applying for several jobs for when I returned to Minnesota and therefore was in problem-solving mode. Sure problem solving looks good on paper and is easily talked up in a cover letter, but there is a fine line between corporate genius and homeless remedy, Blog. Last Wednesday I was both proud and humbled with what I can only attest to as my mad problem-solving skills in association with my alcohol consumption.

Because I am poor and was living out of a hotel room, I was eating a lot of what is known as Easy Mac. Easy Mac comes in a small plastic bowl that serves both as a cooking device and a dish out of which to eat. I had consumed Easy Mac earlier that evening and had discarded the bowl in the bathroom garbage (which had been miraculously changed by housekeeping that day). I remembered this as I frantically searched our room for a container that would hold my wine. The thought of digging through the trash for a plastic bowl lined with heavily processed and dried cheese made me feel like I should just get it over with and write "Anything helps, God bless" on a piece of cardboard and man the nearest street corner. But I pushed through my reservations and rifled through the bathroom garbage for my prized plastic bowl.

Granted, there was absolutely nothing else in that trash can. I admit I'm being a little dramatic about the whole thing. But really, it's an ironically sobering moment when you find yourself taking microwavable trash out of a garbage so you can recycle it as a wine glass.

And that is what I did and it worked. I had my glass of wine and my Netflix too. Was it worth it? Yes. I washed that shit with some hand soap and a wash cloth and hoped for the best. And the best happened as the lesbians figured out their respective relationships, hookups, and mistakes. I got a little buzzed and Andy slept soundly in the bed next to me. I'm not a lesser person of this. No. I'm a brilliant person because of this. I feel like I should put this on my resume as an example of making a hopeless and dire situation into something that is full of promise and wonder. If a potential employer can't see the success in that, then I don't know who can.

"Why didn't you just drink the wine out of the bottle, Samantha?"

Because, Blog. That wine was in a box. And I'd rather drink it out of a washed plastic microwave bowl that's been in the trash for most of the evening than succumb to the awkward neck positions that would have to happen if I were to finagle the spout above my mouth only to end up dousing my entire face in sweet red alcohol. No, Blog. I'll play it safe and drink wine out of glorified garbage, thank you.

With that, here's a song I like and find appropriate purely for its title: