I am glad Carol is here to witness the predicaments I get myself into as well as to bandage me up afterwards.
The hair on my toes was brought to my attention by Janene one summer afternoon while in flip flops. I just shrugged it off any figured everyone had it, so who gives a shit. I am lucky enough not to be one of those really hairy chicks, I have light blond hair everywhere but my head and...well back to the story.
I felt them rustling in the wind in Hawaii and then again in Panama. It is a weird feeling to feel the hairs on your toes moving in the wind. I didn't like it one bit. So when i got home I got out the veet. Problems solved for a month or so and then there were those bastards again and know they have gotten darker. I marched down to the Rite Aid below my building and picked up some wax. Should be easy enough as I have waxed my eye brows in the past and those of my then boyfriend. I saw Hilary waxing with ease as well so off I went. Much more effective and a lot less smellier than the veet. I choose to conquer this feat once more since summer is now here and since Carol is visiting, I thought it a great idea that she could pull the wax off as she would have a better angle on the subject.
I bounced into the darken kitchen and placed the jar in the microwave for the appropriate amount of time. I wanted to heat it quickly and return to my room as I was sure if idiot was home or not. I tore off a piece of paper towel and went to grab the wax by the edges. Well it shifted and poured onto my hands, the cutting board, counter and then gathered on the floor. I immediately began cursing silently and jumping up and down holding my fingers which are not only burned but also covered in wax that is cooling very fast. I ran my hands under cold water and then grabbed an ice cube. I tried it first on the mess than now lay before me in its entirety since I have thus switched on the light. I realize I am going to need help. I walk the five feet to my room and ask Carol if she can come and help me. She begins telling me a story about hot gluing her fingers together. And then moves onto another story. I interrupted and asked if she could continue with the story while she helped me with the mess. I have three fingers out at this point. We grab more ice and tons of paper towels. I open the drawer and grab the cheese cutter. We do stop and apply wax to my toes since it has cooled down and we still have an object to achieve. Carol takes over as I am surrendered helpless by the throbbing of my hands. "Please don't let Jase be home, please don't let Jase be home." After the mess is cleaned up and the cutting board is flipped over, she removes the wax. And then walks me in to apply snoopy band aids to the fingers who took the fall for the hairless toes.
27 June 2009
26 June 2009
moments in the apple this week
I has taken me two years to really get the stride of the city. I have hopstop as my backup but generally know how to get anywhere I need via the subway. Granted there are those times when I have my ipod too loud and I miss a stop or I am too tired to logically think about which way I am really going but those times were I have it under my belt give me a rush.
I am absolute love with New York City right now. It is summer and since I haven't been flying, I have actually been taking advantage of the city. Tuesday I made mad ass karma points with the universe by helping carry my twin mattress 10 blocks including the stairs of Morningside Park to its new owners apartment. What was funny about the whole thing is that he kept asking for breaks because he was getting tired. After I went to watch my friends play in a band as I normally do when I am free on Tuesday nights. I couldn't talk any of my ladies into going and thought that was a good thing in the end since I was just going to have one beer. I had airport arrest at o'dark forty five. Well, guess who didn't get home til 0330 and was still drunk on the bus ride in? I am so glad I wasn't sent anywhere and was able to sleep the whole four hours. The next evening I played softball on a semi-date on Roosevelt Island. I am super excited not only to get out and enjoy the evening but also to go somewhere new in Manhattan. Even more exciting was the tram ride back to the city, I felt like a little kid. The team won and then tested our luck at pub trivia. Great evening.
Last night some of my ladies and I got together to watch Shakespeare in the park. It was the reenactment of King Lear and the play was done on the run. Every few scenes we would chase the actors through Battery Park. Totally great experience! We stopped into some weird bar from the 80's for a couple Ladies night cocktails and then called it good.
Today, I got shit done including walking a dog. I also fed'exd some packages and took my camera up because I wanted to get some shots of Harlem. Unknown to me was the gathering of people in honor of Michael Jackson at the Apollo Theatre. I stood in amazement as they sang his songs in glorious harmony and chanted for a legend. This is what New York is all about, moments like these!
I am absolute love with New York City right now. It is summer and since I haven't been flying, I have actually been taking advantage of the city. Tuesday I made mad ass karma points with the universe by helping carry my twin mattress 10 blocks including the stairs of Morningside Park to its new owners apartment. What was funny about the whole thing is that he kept asking for breaks because he was getting tired. After I went to watch my friends play in a band as I normally do when I am free on Tuesday nights. I couldn't talk any of my ladies into going and thought that was a good thing in the end since I was just going to have one beer. I had airport arrest at o'dark forty five. Well, guess who didn't get home til 0330 and was still drunk on the bus ride in? I am so glad I wasn't sent anywhere and was able to sleep the whole four hours. The next evening I played softball on a semi-date on Roosevelt Island. I am super excited not only to get out and enjoy the evening but also to go somewhere new in Manhattan. Even more exciting was the tram ride back to the city, I felt like a little kid. The team won and then tested our luck at pub trivia. Great evening.
Last night some of my ladies and I got together to watch Shakespeare in the park. It was the reenactment of King Lear and the play was done on the run. Every few scenes we would chase the actors through Battery Park. Totally great experience! We stopped into some weird bar from the 80's for a couple Ladies night cocktails and then called it good.
Today, I got shit done including walking a dog. I also fed'exd some packages and took my camera up because I wanted to get some shots of Harlem. Unknown to me was the gathering of people in honor of Michael Jackson at the Apollo Theatre. I stood in amazement as they sang his songs in glorious harmony and chanted for a legend. This is what New York is all about, moments like these!
21 June 2009
2f
He walked on first out of my 14 customers in first class, standing above his seat, I gave him time to get settled. After he got done combing his hair I finally approached and asked what he would like to drink.
"Whatta got?"
"We have a large selection of beverages, is there something you had in mind?"
"Champagne"
I turn back to prepare and deliver it to him and start greeting the rest of my passengers. He begins to wave at me.
"This thing has three prong holes and the headphones have two."
"I assure you sir, it works with two, the third is for your own personal headset."
I get the rest of my customers drinks and he summons me once more. He begins telling me about some pilots in the back and something about United Airlines. He is mumbling and my ear block do not make a good combination; my hangover is making my patience of trying to figure out what he is speaking of less.
Pressure is on to get things finished before the safety demo so I am taking orders from my passengers. I have six golfing guys who are an absolute riot but don't understand that I don't have time to chat with them right at the moment. All I need to know is your main course option and your salad dressing. We'll work everything else out in the air.
Well I get to 2F and he tells me he has a question. I take a seat next to him and ask what his question about the menu is.
"Glenlivet"
I stare blankly. "Sir, that is not a question."
"Glenlivet"
"Are you asking me if we have Glenlivet on board?"
"Yes"
"We do have it but it can't be served until we are in air, I will be asking what you want to drink when I begin the service."
"Is is 12 or 18 year"
"Sir I don't know, as soon as we are in the air, I will bring you the bottle."
"I want it with my mushroom soup"
"Sir, what meal would you like...."
While presenting the warm nuts, I bring the mini of scotch and asks if this is what he would like to drink. He examines the bottle and says yes. I ask if he would like it neat or on the rocks. He says without ice and I go to remove the bottle in order to pour it and present it back. He snatches the bottle, so I just brought him a glass.
The appetizers are presented and I have to describe each of them twice. He decides on the empanadia and soup. He is also three pieces of bread in by now. I am clearing dishes away to prepare for the salad course and he yells that he is not done with his soup because there is a sip left. It takes me a bit to figure out when he is finished with things, he puts them in the middle of his and the empty seat next to him. When I see he is finished with his scotch, I ask if he would like another one or perhaps a glass of wine. He asks what reds I have. I go through the list and tells me the "second one" and as I pour the Chote de Rhone he mumbles something about a wine tour in 1976. I nod and pour faster. When I go to refill it later he tells me that it is full bodied. Okay, wine expert.
Cheese was along the same line of him thinking I said Gouda instead of goat. And then he wanted to look at the port. I presented him the bottle and he begins telling me what kind of port Delta serves. Do you want some or not?
The ice cream cart is presented and by this time I have served everyone else in the cabin first and just come back to him. I explain what toppings we have. "No raspberries?" Did I say raspberries, um no!
He stay up the whole flight and held onto his linen for a good four hours. During breakfast service he looked perplexed but we got through it pretty quickly.
As I was giving back jackets and saying my goodbyes I told him to have a good day. He asks me where I live in Scotland. Sir I am from Oregon not Scotland.
The customers are disembarking and I am at the "bye-bye position". I am asked to come up front because the guy (who has been dubbed my boyfriend by the other idiot crew members) wants to talk to me. He starts mumbling and here is what I catch.
"Walla Walla, Pendelton, fur traders, Arkansas, shooting someone", and then he point to his nose and says something about a mustache and laughs hysterically.
I smile politely and after he exits, I ask everyone standing around me if they understood any of that. He also asked Paul from Houston if he was from Massachusetts and Ivan from Russia if he was Swedish.
I bet this loony bin is a multi-millionaire. But money doesn't buy sanity.
"Whatta got?"
"We have a large selection of beverages, is there something you had in mind?"
"Champagne"
I turn back to prepare and deliver it to him and start greeting the rest of my passengers. He begins to wave at me.
"This thing has three prong holes and the headphones have two."
"I assure you sir, it works with two, the third is for your own personal headset."
I get the rest of my customers drinks and he summons me once more. He begins telling me about some pilots in the back and something about United Airlines. He is mumbling and my ear block do not make a good combination; my hangover is making my patience of trying to figure out what he is speaking of less.
Pressure is on to get things finished before the safety demo so I am taking orders from my passengers. I have six golfing guys who are an absolute riot but don't understand that I don't have time to chat with them right at the moment. All I need to know is your main course option and your salad dressing. We'll work everything else out in the air.
Well I get to 2F and he tells me he has a question. I take a seat next to him and ask what his question about the menu is.
"Glenlivet"
I stare blankly. "Sir, that is not a question."
"Glenlivet"
"Are you asking me if we have Glenlivet on board?"
"Yes"
"We do have it but it can't be served until we are in air, I will be asking what you want to drink when I begin the service."
"Is is 12 or 18 year"
"Sir I don't know, as soon as we are in the air, I will bring you the bottle."
"I want it with my mushroom soup"
"Sir, what meal would you like...."
While presenting the warm nuts, I bring the mini of scotch and asks if this is what he would like to drink. He examines the bottle and says yes. I ask if he would like it neat or on the rocks. He says without ice and I go to remove the bottle in order to pour it and present it back. He snatches the bottle, so I just brought him a glass.
The appetizers are presented and I have to describe each of them twice. He decides on the empanadia and soup. He is also three pieces of bread in by now. I am clearing dishes away to prepare for the salad course and he yells that he is not done with his soup because there is a sip left. It takes me a bit to figure out when he is finished with things, he puts them in the middle of his and the empty seat next to him. When I see he is finished with his scotch, I ask if he would like another one or perhaps a glass of wine. He asks what reds I have. I go through the list and tells me the "second one" and as I pour the Chote de Rhone he mumbles something about a wine tour in 1976. I nod and pour faster. When I go to refill it later he tells me that it is full bodied. Okay, wine expert.
Cheese was along the same line of him thinking I said Gouda instead of goat. And then he wanted to look at the port. I presented him the bottle and he begins telling me what kind of port Delta serves. Do you want some or not?
The ice cream cart is presented and by this time I have served everyone else in the cabin first and just come back to him. I explain what toppings we have. "No raspberries?" Did I say raspberries, um no!
He stay up the whole flight and held onto his linen for a good four hours. During breakfast service he looked perplexed but we got through it pretty quickly.
As I was giving back jackets and saying my goodbyes I told him to have a good day. He asks me where I live in Scotland. Sir I am from Oregon not Scotland.
The customers are disembarking and I am at the "bye-bye position". I am asked to come up front because the guy (who has been dubbed my boyfriend by the other idiot crew members) wants to talk to me. He starts mumbling and here is what I catch.
"Walla Walla, Pendelton, fur traders, Arkansas, shooting someone", and then he point to his nose and says something about a mustache and laughs hysterically.
I smile politely and after he exits, I ask everyone standing around me if they understood any of that. He also asked Paul from Houston if he was from Massachusetts and Ivan from Russia if he was Swedish.
I bet this loony bin is a multi-millionaire. But money doesn't buy sanity.
18 June 2009
over it
It's official, I am over it. The job if you can call it that. I prefer to think of it as a burden on my time with flight benefits. I am in Edinburgh on a layover, the first I have had all month actually and although it is a million times better than airport alert, it is not my cup of Earl Grey Tea anymore.
I sat on the edge of my bed after picking up the trip just waiting for the phone to ring to tell me I was bumped off; to my great relief it did not. Then I got packed and made it to the bus stop for the hour ride wondering if I would get senior opted out of my position and have to work in the back. I shuddered at the thought. Then I wondered if I would like my crew especially the galley guy since we work so closely together. I wondered if the pilots were good looking and fun and if they were single. I ate my dinner on the bus since we hit traffic and it would be my only opportunity to eat prior to eleven at night. I wondered if the passengers would be nice, what the weather would be like in Scotland, and if I would be able to get back into the routine of flying.
Everyone was nice, nothing to write home about. And it kills me because you always have the same conversation with flight attendants. Where are you from? When did you get this trip? Where do you live? What did you do before this? Yadda, yadda, yadda. And you have to be polite because you are stuck on a plane with these people. I choose to read a book and let everyone else have the monotonous conversations, talk about nothing but flying, and tell rumors about the company. Why can't these people discuss world events or a piece of literature?
I struggled through the last hour of the flight prior to service as my eyelids demanded to close. Then we did the service and the attitudes of my passengers didn't change from dinner so I counted the minutes until I was in bed. The van ride was the same thing...chat, chat, chat. I put in my ipod to detour people from thinking I had interest in their gossip. I slept and slept until awoken by a friend on the late crew. I showered and met up with them and it was the same routine since I didn't know anyone but Shawn I had to answer the questions. Easier to do with a glass of wine in my hand. The tried to explain to me that reserve life is not that bad and one day I'll have my day in the sun. We went to dinner and then to listen to music; nothing exciting but it was nice to be out of the hotel room.
Now I have been up since 0430 GMT and have a long day ahead. I couldn't go back to sleep and it gets light here super early in the summer. So I have wondered around my room, repacked my luggage and thought about what time a coffee will be ideal to help me make it through the day.
I am taking a shower in a minute, putting on my uniform and shoes that I can't seem to get a funky smell out of, then meeting everyone downstairs to take a van to the airport. Once again I wonder if first class is full and if the passengers will be nice and I look forward to a time when I don't have to ask these questions.
I sat on the edge of my bed after picking up the trip just waiting for the phone to ring to tell me I was bumped off; to my great relief it did not. Then I got packed and made it to the bus stop for the hour ride wondering if I would get senior opted out of my position and have to work in the back. I shuddered at the thought. Then I wondered if I would like my crew especially the galley guy since we work so closely together. I wondered if the pilots were good looking and fun and if they were single. I ate my dinner on the bus since we hit traffic and it would be my only opportunity to eat prior to eleven at night. I wondered if the passengers would be nice, what the weather would be like in Scotland, and if I would be able to get back into the routine of flying.
Everyone was nice, nothing to write home about. And it kills me because you always have the same conversation with flight attendants. Where are you from? When did you get this trip? Where do you live? What did you do before this? Yadda, yadda, yadda. And you have to be polite because you are stuck on a plane with these people. I choose to read a book and let everyone else have the monotonous conversations, talk about nothing but flying, and tell rumors about the company. Why can't these people discuss world events or a piece of literature?
I struggled through the last hour of the flight prior to service as my eyelids demanded to close. Then we did the service and the attitudes of my passengers didn't change from dinner so I counted the minutes until I was in bed. The van ride was the same thing...chat, chat, chat. I put in my ipod to detour people from thinking I had interest in their gossip. I slept and slept until awoken by a friend on the late crew. I showered and met up with them and it was the same routine since I didn't know anyone but Shawn I had to answer the questions. Easier to do with a glass of wine in my hand. The tried to explain to me that reserve life is not that bad and one day I'll have my day in the sun. We went to dinner and then to listen to music; nothing exciting but it was nice to be out of the hotel room.
Now I have been up since 0430 GMT and have a long day ahead. I couldn't go back to sleep and it gets light here super early in the summer. So I have wondered around my room, repacked my luggage and thought about what time a coffee will be ideal to help me make it through the day.
I am taking a shower in a minute, putting on my uniform and shoes that I can't seem to get a funky smell out of, then meeting everyone downstairs to take a van to the airport. Once again I wonder if first class is full and if the passengers will be nice and I look forward to a time when I don't have to ask these questions.
15 June 2009
shrink wrap love
I am renewing my love with shrink wrap once more. I first discovered my affection for it when I moved out of my favorite apartment on the UES. I wondering how to keep my scared bookshelf together for the move and one thought was saran wrap and when walking by Big John's Moving shrink wrap jumped out at me. There was once upon a time when I work at Fred Meyer that we would do random stuff to peoples cars while they were working. Once upon a time my car was moved around to the back of the building causing no less than panic on my end. Other times the jokes consisted of filling the car with Styrofoam peanuts and shrink wrapping a car completely. These were the carefree days of late high school and early college when I ran with a jackass crowd and clearly had a lot of time on my hands. I have a lot of time on my hands these days as well and the only jackass I run around with is myself.
The bookshelf in question is still with me and I love it not only for its practicality but also because of its story. Every piece of furniture in my loft in Portland has a story, so this piece will fit in nicely. I was coming home from work shortly after moving into the city and passed by some curbside give-a-ways. I took a shining to the shelf immediately and rushed home to put away my bag and come back to get it. I took it home and cleaning it up and started arranging my books on it immediately. Since books have replaced my fetish for shoes, my shelf has become valuable in their display. I am determined to get my free bookshelf back to Portland somehow. For now it is shrinkwraped up and awaiting the next journey.
I believed I was making progress with this whole packing up the New York life project and sadly had my bubble burst by Amy. She commented that I had a lot of crap. Really? I was taken back because she has know idea how much stuff I have already sent back. It was perfect motivation today to get more organized and really take inventory of what I had left. It was also great to actually get the set of keys and a date from Kenny, the guy whose place I am taking over for July.
I wonder if we become the opposite of our parents upbringing. I was in the process of packing and thinking how exhausting it is to keep packing up ones life and taking it somewhere else. I can almost say that I loathe the process and just want to stay put for a long while. When I was a kid, I longed to move to another house or another town because I thought it would be great to shake things up a bit. But alas, we stayed put at old 3030 Cannon for all the years I lived there. When I was in Nebraska to see where my dad grew up he mentioned something unknown to me, that he had moved several times as a kid. My immediate question was: is that why we never moved? To which the answer was an infatic yes. Carol also moved around a bunch as a kid as her father was in the Navy. It makes sense to me now why we stayed put. I, on the other hand, have moved 23 times in my life all after the age of 18.
Enough already!
The bookshelf in question is still with me and I love it not only for its practicality but also because of its story. Every piece of furniture in my loft in Portland has a story, so this piece will fit in nicely. I was coming home from work shortly after moving into the city and passed by some curbside give-a-ways. I took a shining to the shelf immediately and rushed home to put away my bag and come back to get it. I took it home and cleaning it up and started arranging my books on it immediately. Since books have replaced my fetish for shoes, my shelf has become valuable in their display. I am determined to get my free bookshelf back to Portland somehow. For now it is shrinkwraped up and awaiting the next journey.
I believed I was making progress with this whole packing up the New York life project and sadly had my bubble burst by Amy. She commented that I had a lot of crap. Really? I was taken back because she has know idea how much stuff I have already sent back. It was perfect motivation today to get more organized and really take inventory of what I had left. It was also great to actually get the set of keys and a date from Kenny, the guy whose place I am taking over for July.
I wonder if we become the opposite of our parents upbringing. I was in the process of packing and thinking how exhausting it is to keep packing up ones life and taking it somewhere else. I can almost say that I loathe the process and just want to stay put for a long while. When I was a kid, I longed to move to another house or another town because I thought it would be great to shake things up a bit. But alas, we stayed put at old 3030 Cannon for all the years I lived there. When I was in Nebraska to see where my dad grew up he mentioned something unknown to me, that he had moved several times as a kid. My immediate question was: is that why we never moved? To which the answer was an infatic yes. Carol also moved around a bunch as a kid as her father was in the Navy. It makes sense to me now why we stayed put. I, on the other hand, have moved 23 times in my life all after the age of 18.
Enough already!
13 June 2009
rest please
I should be tired. It is midnight on a Friday night after a week of enjoying NY night life. My alarm is set for 0530 in order to pick Amy up at the bus stop, and I haven't sleep all that well this week unless you count those morning naps.
My mind has been beating up on myself this week due to circumstances beyond my control. I was given 3 airport alerts in four days with nothing coming from them other than $20/day wasted and the shortening of my journey to go postal on the place. The other two days, I sat around on call and finally asked for the last one off because my sanity was at an end.
I walked dogs instead and it was good.
I am with the dogs now, in fact. I am house/dog/cat sitting on the Lower East Side and so damn happy to be in another place and alone. I decided it was the perfect evening to sit around and watch a movie. The evenings of drinking and socializing have been fun but I always feel like I should have stayed home, not spent any money, and cured cancer or something instead. But if I do stay home and be a shut in to save money, blah, blah I feel like I am not taking advantage of living in the city. I am sure there is a happy medium, it is just not coming to me at the time in this strange place which is impeding my needed rest.
I am happy to have my friend in town to do tourist things with like walk the Brooklyn Bridge. I am also happy to have someone I trust fully around in my stomping ground. I adore my friends here but I feel like there is something lacking that I want to fit in so bad that I think too much about whether they like me or if I overstayed my welcome.
I know that I am just tired and I need to start taking care of myself. I need a routine, I need a life, I need to feel productive. Then, I hope to lay my head down and get some real rest for my soul.
My mind has been beating up on myself this week due to circumstances beyond my control. I was given 3 airport alerts in four days with nothing coming from them other than $20/day wasted and the shortening of my journey to go postal on the place. The other two days, I sat around on call and finally asked for the last one off because my sanity was at an end.
I walked dogs instead and it was good.
I am with the dogs now, in fact. I am house/dog/cat sitting on the Lower East Side and so damn happy to be in another place and alone. I decided it was the perfect evening to sit around and watch a movie. The evenings of drinking and socializing have been fun but I always feel like I should have stayed home, not spent any money, and cured cancer or something instead. But if I do stay home and be a shut in to save money, blah, blah I feel like I am not taking advantage of living in the city. I am sure there is a happy medium, it is just not coming to me at the time in this strange place which is impeding my needed rest.
I am happy to have my friend in town to do tourist things with like walk the Brooklyn Bridge. I am also happy to have someone I trust fully around in my stomping ground. I adore my friends here but I feel like there is something lacking that I want to fit in so bad that I think too much about whether they like me or if I overstayed my welcome.
I know that I am just tired and I need to start taking care of myself. I need a routine, I need a life, I need to feel productive. Then, I hope to lay my head down and get some real rest for my soul.
06 June 2009
fast track
It is coming up on three years that I have been away from what I consider home. On the 15th of June three years ago I began this journey. There have been numerous ups and downs, laughs and cries, celebrating and mourning, smiles and tears. All of this time was served with no real purpose in mind besides seeing the world. It seemed ideal to leave Portland when I did especially after the mortgage crisis hit. I craved the chance to fill up my passport with stamps, to be a part of the conversations of world travelers; to say, I have been there.
I know that I am near the end of this journey because I can't hack it any more. It's not that I haven't tried to survive, I have. I have fought battles that should have sent me running home to my parents house with my tail between my legs. I have won some of these battles and lost others by great defeat. But I am still standing. There were days when I was standing on top of the world and could retain this life forever. The majority of time has been spent wondering what the hell I was doing and when it would actually pay off. I thought this summer would be my payoff, a chance to actually know what I was doing when it came to my schedule at the airline. The economy has been the airline enemy, and thus my seniority has remain stagnate. There are no new hires and the senior mamas can't retire because they have lost their retirement in the recession. I remain still on reserve and will probably do so for the next few years. I can see how this job would be amazing once you had a line, once you could control your life and your schedule. But my fingers are slipping one by one from the bar of sanity with this job.
The inability to commit to offers from friends, dates, or events have now turned into not even being asked as I never know an answer. And if I do say yes, it is not definite until I actually at the activity. I have let down and disappointed friends and myself numerous time with no malice. It took me a while to figure it out and I thought I was just feeling sorry for myself because no one was asking me to do anything. They had given up I learned, and I can't blame them. Any relationship is hard with this job, even a friendship with a flight attendant who understands takes so much effort to retain. I had a couple of boyfriends while on this journey and if your a blog reader, you know what happened to those. I am a loner here, and that doesn't fit my personality. I need friends, I need parties to attend, events to be asked to. But I have also realized that I need to make more of an effort in getting out there and making sure people know I am available. There is a fine line with stocker however that needs to be considered.
Money is always an issue no matter where you live, how much or how little you have, it always causes anxiety. Simply put: New York is expensive. I have found ways to survive on dollars a day but still it's New York, every once and a while you need to enjoy it.
Something my therapist said many months ago when I could justify $90/hr to go just hit home. I am so glad I took my tips and went to see someone because I had so many underlying issues that I never thought about. Her words were kind, wise, and sometimes not what I wanted to hear but they are embedded in me. She explained to me that being a flight attendant and living in New York was not one thing, it was two lives being lived simultaneously. I could split them up at any time. I didn't get it forever and then it just clicked the other day. At first I attributed this genius to myself but remembered Mary had said that ages ago. I don't like my job. There is maybe 5% in the past couple of months that I have enjoyed. Obviously the layover. The getting to work, the checking in, the airport alert, the getting in trouble with the only supervisor that seems to care about things, the working and catering to passengers, the working with random people whom you hope to like and get along with, the being forced to stay awake when the body screams for sleep, the having to wake up in the middle of the night and putting a smile on your face even though coffee is no where in sight, the toil on the body in bloat and bad skin, the wondering, "where the hell will I be tomorrow". It's too much, it's too much to pay for the reward of getting a good trip every once in a great while.
New York and I are in love. We have a fantastic relationship but it is a relationship non the less. We get in arguments and I wondering how I got here and how long I will have to put up with it's shit but I love it through out. My living situations have not been the best since coming out here but that is not NYs fault. It's nobodies fault, it is just me trying to find an economic niche. A home away from my Portland home, my perfect loft. And that is the issue, I have never taken one foot out of Portland, I was on my tip toes when I had reliable renters but I have always had an anchor more than just my friends. The best months I spent in NY were those six months after Christina alone on the UWS. I wish so much that I was back there and that I had never left. I wish money didn't have to dictate where I lived. I thrived in NY then and periods afterwards but not to that extent. I know that I have moved around to try and regain footing in this city but nothing has worked and at the end of the day money takes me back home. I could sell my loft but it hurts my heart to think about giving up the proudest thing I have ever accomplished. If I sold the loft, I could stay in NY and yes, I have thought about it.
So it comes down to this: a home is anywhere you make it. I need a home, that is why I am wondering around the world searching for happiness. Guess what? Home is in my heart, it happiness, it contentment, it will never leave me and all I have to do is nurture it.
My life prior even though great was about stuff, shoes and clothes and where I lived and what events I went to. That is what I wanted when I moved here. I wanted to be popular and have the same relationships and go to parties and be somebody. It took me three years to figure out why I have served this time away from the comfort of the known.
It is to learn this: it is not about what I have, it is about who I am.
The idea seems simple enough but knowing this has opened up a new path for the rest of my time here. It allows me to collect the memories, the experiences, the lessons, the laughter, and take it all into the being that I have become. This growth is not just over the past three years but over the past thirty two, the past three have just been fast tracked into my soul.
I know that I am near the end of this journey because I can't hack it any more. It's not that I haven't tried to survive, I have. I have fought battles that should have sent me running home to my parents house with my tail between my legs. I have won some of these battles and lost others by great defeat. But I am still standing. There were days when I was standing on top of the world and could retain this life forever. The majority of time has been spent wondering what the hell I was doing and when it would actually pay off. I thought this summer would be my payoff, a chance to actually know what I was doing when it came to my schedule at the airline. The economy has been the airline enemy, and thus my seniority has remain stagnate. There are no new hires and the senior mamas can't retire because they have lost their retirement in the recession. I remain still on reserve and will probably do so for the next few years. I can see how this job would be amazing once you had a line, once you could control your life and your schedule. But my fingers are slipping one by one from the bar of sanity with this job.
The inability to commit to offers from friends, dates, or events have now turned into not even being asked as I never know an answer. And if I do say yes, it is not definite until I actually at the activity. I have let down and disappointed friends and myself numerous time with no malice. It took me a while to figure it out and I thought I was just feeling sorry for myself because no one was asking me to do anything. They had given up I learned, and I can't blame them. Any relationship is hard with this job, even a friendship with a flight attendant who understands takes so much effort to retain. I had a couple of boyfriends while on this journey and if your a blog reader, you know what happened to those. I am a loner here, and that doesn't fit my personality. I need friends, I need parties to attend, events to be asked to. But I have also realized that I need to make more of an effort in getting out there and making sure people know I am available. There is a fine line with stocker however that needs to be considered.
Money is always an issue no matter where you live, how much or how little you have, it always causes anxiety. Simply put: New York is expensive. I have found ways to survive on dollars a day but still it's New York, every once and a while you need to enjoy it.
Something my therapist said many months ago when I could justify $90/hr to go just hit home. I am so glad I took my tips and went to see someone because I had so many underlying issues that I never thought about. Her words were kind, wise, and sometimes not what I wanted to hear but they are embedded in me. She explained to me that being a flight attendant and living in New York was not one thing, it was two lives being lived simultaneously. I could split them up at any time. I didn't get it forever and then it just clicked the other day. At first I attributed this genius to myself but remembered Mary had said that ages ago. I don't like my job. There is maybe 5% in the past couple of months that I have enjoyed. Obviously the layover. The getting to work, the checking in, the airport alert, the getting in trouble with the only supervisor that seems to care about things, the working and catering to passengers, the working with random people whom you hope to like and get along with, the being forced to stay awake when the body screams for sleep, the having to wake up in the middle of the night and putting a smile on your face even though coffee is no where in sight, the toil on the body in bloat and bad skin, the wondering, "where the hell will I be tomorrow". It's too much, it's too much to pay for the reward of getting a good trip every once in a great while.
New York and I are in love. We have a fantastic relationship but it is a relationship non the less. We get in arguments and I wondering how I got here and how long I will have to put up with it's shit but I love it through out. My living situations have not been the best since coming out here but that is not NYs fault. It's nobodies fault, it is just me trying to find an economic niche. A home away from my Portland home, my perfect loft. And that is the issue, I have never taken one foot out of Portland, I was on my tip toes when I had reliable renters but I have always had an anchor more than just my friends. The best months I spent in NY were those six months after Christina alone on the UWS. I wish so much that I was back there and that I had never left. I wish money didn't have to dictate where I lived. I thrived in NY then and periods afterwards but not to that extent. I know that I have moved around to try and regain footing in this city but nothing has worked and at the end of the day money takes me back home. I could sell my loft but it hurts my heart to think about giving up the proudest thing I have ever accomplished. If I sold the loft, I could stay in NY and yes, I have thought about it.
So it comes down to this: a home is anywhere you make it. I need a home, that is why I am wondering around the world searching for happiness. Guess what? Home is in my heart, it happiness, it contentment, it will never leave me and all I have to do is nurture it.
My life prior even though great was about stuff, shoes and clothes and where I lived and what events I went to. That is what I wanted when I moved here. I wanted to be popular and have the same relationships and go to parties and be somebody. It took me three years to figure out why I have served this time away from the comfort of the known.
It is to learn this: it is not about what I have, it is about who I am.
The idea seems simple enough but knowing this has opened up a new path for the rest of my time here. It allows me to collect the memories, the experiences, the lessons, the laughter, and take it all into the being that I have become. This growth is not just over the past three years but over the past thirty two, the past three have just been fast tracked into my soul.
24 days
I have spent the morning packing and attempting to organize the mess that is my room in Harlem. I have 24 more days to go and have been counting them for the past month. What lies in front of me is almost certain for July and a maybe for August. I have decided in order to keep my sanity I must just take it month by month.
Speaking of lack of sanity, I am assigned airport alert again tonight. It is late so I am not sure where or if I will be sent out. I did manage to get a good nights sleep for the first time in a week so I would be down for something new and fun. I did pack stuff to do if I get a boring one so the odds of being sent out since I am ready for anything will most likely be slim. Unprepared? Sure go here!
I am hoping for some quiet time either on the layover, at the airport to write. I have made the revelation. The reason why I have been on this journey came to me during my quick jont home. I want to explain it and analyze it and share it with the world.
I GET IT now!!
Now knowing my purpose will hopefully lay a path of intention in front of me.
Speaking of lack of sanity, I am assigned airport alert again tonight. It is late so I am not sure where or if I will be sent out. I did manage to get a good nights sleep for the first time in a week so I would be down for something new and fun. I did pack stuff to do if I get a boring one so the odds of being sent out since I am ready for anything will most likely be slim. Unprepared? Sure go here!
I am hoping for some quiet time either on the layover, at the airport to write. I have made the revelation. The reason why I have been on this journey came to me during my quick jont home. I want to explain it and analyze it and share it with the world.
I GET IT now!!
Now knowing my purpose will hopefully lay a path of intention in front of me.
03 June 2009
shoe box
I am putting shoe boxes away and looking at all the stuff in my old closet that needs to be organized. I am wondering why I have so much shit. Where did this all come from? What I don't get is why it was so important to me in the past. I am looking in shoe boxes and seeing shoes I forgot I owned. I run my hands over coats and dresses wondering what prompted me to purchase them in the first place. I love fashion, I loved it more here than I do in New York. I have survived for three years without this stuff. Why do I need shoes in every color? I thought I had a lot of stuff in NY to bring back here but staring at the clothing store I have in front of me, my life is mininualistic in NY. I just proved I can survive 10 days with the contents of one small back pack.
It seems odd to me that this is what once defined me. And it saddens me that if this is all I am going to be when I return to Portland, then I don't want it.
It seems odd to me that this is what once defined me. And it saddens me that if this is all I am going to be when I return to Portland, then I don't want it.
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