Not In Kansas Anymore...

Click your heels, and see if home is where you hang your hat, or somewhere else inside yourself as this simple, postmodern girl takes on L.A.

Monday, August 07, 2006

I have $.78 in my wallet and two job interviews tomorrow.

The 78 cents will be the only money I will have untill the beginning of next month unless I start selling stuff.

One of the jobs is at a hair salon, being a receptionist. I went to the 99 Cent store today to look for hair dye since my roots are grown out so far the gray is showing. ( Yes, I have gray hair. Quite alot of it. I have had a big white streak in my hair- kinda like Rogue in "X-Men"- since my late 20s. It's still there, only now I have silver all throughout. My grandma went totally gray at 26 so I guess it's genetic. My brother does NOT have Gray Grandma's hair, the little bastard got lucky and got Irish Grandpa's natural curls- the other side of the family.Gasp! Maybe I AM a mutant!). Didn't find anything.... and Dee can't do my hair ( she does it for free- a $260 value! Free!) til Thursday. And I have to go try and get a job at a hair salon with *this* head o' hair. I'm going to have to do some creative styling, to say the least.

The other job is in a floral outfit here in Burbank. They're a cheapo chain, but frankly, I don't have any pride anymore! I think I'm a shoe-in for it; the head girl there said the fact that I had experience was "sooooo awesome!!" and that her manager would be excited. Christ, I hope so. It's within walking distance of my house.

Man, even I'M bored with my life being this broke. I have cleaned the enitre house, top to bottom. There isn't a dust bunny alive in here. Next thing you know I'll be washing the curtains (hmmm.....) and starting home-improvement projects. I've already been fashioning de-facto geriatric beds out of cushions and old towels for Griffin, who, while hanging in there, is old and needs squishy things for the old bones to sit on. He's thrilled. Meanwhile, I'm losing my mind.
I might have to start flossing more than once a day, or write a novel or something. Or start in on cleaning the yard.

The heat has finally broken, in more ways than one. It's back to actually pleasant and cool at night, breezy and sunny during the days, thank god. I can't tell you what a huge relief it is to be able to leave my house again, and not feel like Death In a Fatsuit because of the heat. It was actually 116 one Saturday recently! 116!

And in other heatwave news, the boy is toast. Or at least I'm pretty sure he is. We had a bit of a scuffle when something he said triggered some PTSD thing of mine, which did not go over well. Somehow, he thinks its personal when something like that happens, and decided to behave like a phenomenal jackass. (His Now-Ex Finacee' used to use her "issues" against him, and apparently ran him over like a backhoe stuck in reverse all the time, so now Anyone With Anything To Be Said To Anthony About Anthony EVER is suspect. If I weren't so pissed, I'd point out that, hmmm, isn't that kind of the same thing as what I have? Hello, Kettle? This is Pot..... you're black. Irony of ironies: I have PTSD about new relationships, and his PTSD thing is girls who have PTSD. You can see how THAT one went trying to sort it out).
It finally got so ugly that I put the smackdown on it midway through one of his tempestuous rants by telling him, "Anthony, I don't want to email you anymore. I don't want any more misunderstandings, or misunderstandings between us. If you want to talk to me and try to sort this thing out, it's gonna have to be in person or over the phone. I know that neccesitates you coming back to the States, and that's fine. We need a break. You have my number when you get back here, use it if you want to. If not, I'll move on."

He's due back here any day now. Not exactly sitting by the phone and waiting ( although I wonder if he'll call far too many times a day for my own comfort- more reasons I need to WORK!!), but it is a huge disappoinment to me that I had a wonderful prospect and it went to hell.

But what am I gonna do? I can go to therapy -which I'm willing to do- and work on my stuff, so I can date like a normal person ( Master P's comment, and I quote, "Yeah, I think that's probably a good plan. Unless you wanna end up like 'Nurse Jenny' in The World According to Garp." My snappy comeback: "Hell no, especially if I have to wear the outfit all the time!" Ah, literary humor.)
But even Master P says, "well, you dated two other guys earlier this year, did you have trouble with that?" Some, but not alot. Sassy commented that "yes, you are more fragile and problematic in this area than most. But you're not BROKEN, and if he had a bit of patience, he might have blown through it just fine." I think so. Most of the trouble for me starts at the beginning of things, where I'm looking around for clues that he might be some kind of psychopath ( the key PTSD "issue" in this case is the fact that I dated one and was sexually assaulted at 17 - that's the simple version of the story, anyway. Forgive me for not going into alot of detail, yeah!?!?!?. Anyway, I've sort of arrested at that age in terms of finding new romance, thusly) . Once I'm in, though, I'm pretty okay. I haven't been living like a nun since 17. ( Although lately it's beginning to feel that terms of this sexual desert I've been crossing without a drink since....there's only so much a girl can DO on her own, you know? Urgh.)

Master P: Was there something in particular to this guy that triggered you?
Me: Nothing that someone else couldn't have done just as easily.A phrase here, a turn know, regular stuff.... And then there is the matter of his job. I get it, I have lived around military/etc. people my whole life. But HIS job is a weeeeee bit more complicated. Ethically speaking. Made me wonder. Maybe too much, but, made me take a pause.
Master P: Well, yeah. It's not like he's a librarian.

All of that aside, the bottom line is this : his attitude was so NOT a balm to any lurking fears I might have had, and do I want to hook my wagon to someone who is so defensive and "don't have any problems, okay!?!?!", no matter how wonderful he is? What's the chances HE'S going into therapy anytime soon? Granted, I imagine he'll get over Whacko Ex sooner or later ( they were together 5 years and were engaged), but I'm talking NOW.

The whole thing makes me sad. Sigh.

Still, though, not waiting by the phone.

Unless it's for a JOB. PLEEEEEEASE, ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!