Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Happy Birthday . . .

. . . to you.

Despite myself, I miss you. But I'm happy to be rid of you. Emotional contradiction of the highest order. Why am I happy to be rid of you? Because I'm a drunk and you were a nag. Not a good mix. And, well, because I love to think of how happy you are.

Happy Birthday, M.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Tock. Tick.

It would be an immense understatement for me to say that I cannot wait for this year to be over with. But I have no hopes for 2009. Are you surprised? No, not really. At least, I'm sure you are not if you are in any way a follower of these blogs.

The good news? I am at work again. The bad news? I don't make shit. But, it's work. I am the office manager for a non-profit which coordinates with the local higher education board. It sounds as though it could be an exciting opportunity, but it's really just me filing, ordering office supplies, and helping the Executive Director keep her busy calendar. And she is very busy. That's fine. There are interesting things to read. Things I consider interesting. Board reports, student assessments, things of that variety. I am hoping to at least learn a few things. The director is a very nice woman. She's successful, motivated, and well-respected. Most importantly, she's flexible. She's giving me the opportunity to keep a short schedule so that I may look for something part-time in the evenings. And I may already have a lead. I have an interview tomorrow for a part-time shelving position with the public library. I would love this. Especially because it would allow me to be around books, but more importantly because it would permit me to make that much more money to save for my eventual Texas exit. (I am ignoring the fact that landing the job would require that I come into contact with some people I'd rather not see. People who bring up the worst kinds of memories, but money is money.) The long-term prize? Get the hell out of here for good! I'd like to offer my mother a little help with rent payments and money for groceries, but otherwise I intend to save, save, save and then make sure the rest of the world sees my red tail lights headin' for . . . somewhere. Anywhere. Not here.

I'd like to wish you all the very best and safest of New Year's celebrations.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

I don't give a sh*t about the holidays.

I really don't.

I have been told that family and love keep one from being overly pessimistic about such things. Family would have to mean having my own kids and love would mean the romantic variety. Neither one is on my radar. *shrug*

Even so, I want everyone (anyone?) who reads this to have a fantastic time with family, friends, booze, or whatever else it is that rocks your world. Don't go it alone. It's no good alone.

I shall leave you with this wisdom from the mouth of my favorite babe:

"I wish I was a talking animal that drank yucky water, lived in a forest, and ate frogs."

I could go with that.

Also . . .

"Tiffany, you don't wear makeup? If you don't wear makeup you can't be pretty."

I always knew there was something I was doing wrong. Well, there are many things I have been doing wrong. This is just one of many.

Holidays. Who needs them? Happiness? I wish it for all of you.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Screw it.

So, I am 99.9% sure that I did not get the job with the non-profit.

No surprise there.

I am completely and utterly morally deflated. I have decided not to look for work any longer. And the volunteer opportunities I'd met to learn more about, I'm not too interested in that either. I need money. I don't give a shit about networking. I need money.

So, I'm committing myself to a life of sitting on my ass in my mother's spare bedroom. I'm going to stay up all night, sleep all day, read books, and that will be that.

I'm probably not going to be blogging much. What more is there to say really?

I hate Texas. I hate Austin. I hate my life. I hate. There. The End.

If anything interesting happens it's actually not that interesting if only because it's happening to me.

I wish you all the best of luck. Remember, sometimes life really does suck that bad! And there is not always a benefit to thinking "positively." Screw that shit, too.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Bizarro World.

So, I have no idea how the interview went. They asked me questions, I answered them. There were moments when we were confined to pointless banter, I went along. I had to submit a writing sample (a faux business letter), not a big deal. But ultimately, I don't think my chances are that great. Again, I know I could do the work, and I wouldn't have a problem working for a non-profit which is actually doing good things for people, but I just didn't really get a vibe from either of the directors which said, "Yessss! This chick needs to work here!" And there are other considerations. One, they appear to think I have a car. You are all more than acquainted with my beefs about the shitty public transportation in Austin; I have even more problems with the fact that people just assume you own a car. Well, I don't own a car. I don't want a car. I am licensed to drive, but I like my life without a car. I enjoy not having a car because it usually saves me money (when I am employed), I feel a lowered level of stress, and well, I just don't really care about cars all that much. So there's the fact that I don't have a car, and there's the fact that they administer drug screens. Yes, well, you all know that I would not pass a drug screen. But here's the thing, I am of the mind that it's no one's damn business what I piss. So, as a general rule I don't usually apply for jobs that require drug tests. The job I interviewed for didn't say anything about a screen, but the paperwork I signed at my second interview for the background check listed the requirement. Oh well. I understand why. You don't want kids running around with Tyrone Biggums. For the record, I would never, ever tell kids where I get my drugs. Ever! And well, I don't do crack.

So much for that job.

I spent Friday night visiting my friend J. J. is the bisexual (homosexual?) man I slept with. You remember that story, don't you kids? Anyway, he invited me over to see his new place and then walk down the street to have a beer with his ex-girlfriend. All of this was fine. We had a couple of beers at his house before meeting his ex. (He constantly referred to her as My Ex and was sure to point out that they always ended up in bed with one another after drinks and stuff. Her name was more of an afterthought. Their residual attraction to one another was not well disguised.) I was told later that His Ex "approved of me." What? And that she told him, "If she's not interested in you, give me her number, I'll go out with her." Um, the thing is I'm not really interested in anyone. J. is a nice gentleman. But I had to put him down easy when later that night he proceeded to awkwardly pet my head and ask me, "Do you think I could get a little kiss?" I was considerably altered by this point, but was glad that I was able to keep my wits about me. "No kissing," was my response. From that point on J. was less likely to engage me in chat. Later that night I sent him a text telling him that while I enjoy his company and don't regret having slept with him, sex and friends are not a good idea as far as I am concerned. And it's true! I have no desire to do my buddies. If it happens once (eh, shit happens), but if the shit keeps happening, well, opting for masturbation may be the better bet. That's right. I admit it, I am committed to sex with myself before I am to not-so casual sex with a friend, straight or otherwise. J. responded well to the text. He thanked me for being honest and straightforward, but indicated that we could still remain friends. Considering how easily I have been losing friends of late, I'll take that.

After this blog I have to finish helping my youngest sister with a homework assignment. Nancy has asked me to help her with an assignment in her Teen Leadership class. The assignment? I am supposed to write a eulogy for her. In other words, I am supposed to pretend that my sister has passed away and that I am being called upon to eulogize her. What.The.Fuck?????? Needless to say, I am having a little trouble with the task. You know, on the whole I am extremely supportive of educators this day and age, but have to wonder what this kind of assignment has to do with instilling my sister with leadership qualities.

If I don't get the non-profit job (which may be for the best), I do have an appointment for some temporary work as a typist. That might be a better bet. Six months worth of typing would mean I could save all of my money and then at the end of the gig, get back on that plane to Anywhere But Here!

Stay tuned.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

I welcome your cheese.

I have a second interview tomorrow for a job I really, really want.

I'm going to behave as though it's my job to lose. And I'm not going to lose it.

Hell, if someone I haven't even met (but for whom I have a genuine respect), can believe in me. I sure as hell can find a way to believe in myself long enough to put myself in a situation to be successful for once in my life.

Over the holiday weekend I watched a lot of TV. Too much, actually. I watched a shitload of football and movies. I watched the Star Wars Trilogy. Twice. This is from the Empire script. It's the scene where Yoda lifts Luke's X-Wing from the swamp. And I love it.

Annoyed at the disturbance, Luke looks over at Artoo, who
is rocking urgently back and forth in front of him.
Artoo waddles closer to Luke, chirping wildly, then scoots
over the edge of the swamp. Catching on, Luke rushes to the
water's edge. The X-wing fighter has sunk, and only the tip of
its nose shows above the lake's surface.

LUKE: Oh, no. We'll never get it out now.

Yoda stamps his foot in irritation.

YODA: So certain are you. Always with you it cannot be done. Hear you
nothing that I say?

Luke looks uncertainly out at the ship.

LUKE: Master, moving stones around is one thing. This is totally

YODA: No! No different! Only different in your mind. You must unlearn
what you have learned.

LUKE: (focusing, quietly) All right, I'll give it a try.

YODA: No! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.

Luke closes his eyes and concentrates on thinking the ship
Slowly, the X-wing's nose begins to rise above the water.
It hovers for a moment and then slides back, disappearing once

LUKE: (panting heavily) I can't. It's too big.

YODA: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm?

Luke shakes his head.

YODA: And well you should not. For my ally in the Force. And a
powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. It's energy
surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we...(Yoda pinches
Luke's shoulder)...not this crude matter. (a sweeping gesture) You must
feel the Force around you. (gesturing) Here, between
tree...the rock...everywhere! Yes, even between this land and that

LUKE: (discouraged) You want the impossible.

Quietly Yoda turns toward the X-wing fighter. With his eyes
closed and his head bowed, he raises his arm and points at the
Soon, the fighter rises above the water and moves forward
as Artoo beeps in terror and scoots away.
The entire X-wing moves majestically, surely, toward the
shore. Yoda stands on a tree root and guides the fighter
carefully down toward the beach.
Luke stares in astonishment as the fighter settles down
onto the shore. He walks toward Yoda.

LUKE: I don't...I don't believe it.

YODA: That is why you fail.

And what if you find a way to believe? This is someone's nifty editing job. What would have happened if Luke had actually found a way to do, rather than do not.

If Master Yoda says to believe, well shit, you gotta believe then don't you.

I'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


I watched tiny bits of Soon to be Bye Bye President Bush's interview with Charles Gibson. I have never been able to listen to Bush in large doses. It's just too painful. The reason I tuned in? Gibson asked Bush if he had any regrets. Bush responded that he regretted that the intelligence he used to take our country to war had not been "good intelligence." And that lot of people had staked their intelligence on this intelligence. Anyone who knows anything about the run-up to the Iraq war knows that this administration knew damn well that the intelligence it had was fabricated, or not fabricated, not investigated and tested to the extent that would justify its being used as the foundation for an invasion and occupation. This administration willfully and purposefully waved that fabricated evidence under a banner of legitimacy which government proclamations are often given.

Right before this statement about the intelligence leading to the Iraq war, Bush insisted to Mr. Gibson that he has always been correct in resisting any effort to withdraw our troops from Iraq. I almost choked on my tea after hearing this. Even now, this man can look us in the eye and insist that he has been correct to send people off to die, kill innocent civilians, and suppress fundamental liberties in the name of "security and safety." And even though he knew there were no WMD, there was no imminent threat, and there was no connection between Iraq and the 9/11 attacks, he insists that it's always been correct to fight this war when it should never have been started to begin with.


There was also a priceless moment when he was asked how he thought the American people would remember him. His answer: "I don't know." Gibson then posed the question to Laura Bush. Her answer: "I think they'll remember him because he kept them safe."

What, exactly, was he keeping us safe from? Oh right! We're safe from threatening, deadly weapons which never existed! But we're not safe from the peering eye of our government, nor are we exactly afforded our rights of due process if for some reason we should end up on a government watch list of some sort. Safe? My ass!

This president often likes to say that "history will judge." You're right, it will. And I don't think you're going to like what it has to say about you.

Is it January 20th yet?

I am sick. My head is a gigantic booger balloon. My ears feel like they are filled with cotton, my sinuses are filled to the brim with mucus, and I feel like ass. So of course that means I had to do something important today. I had a job interview. An interview for a job I'd actually really, really like. It's working as an Executive Assistant (sounds boring, but wait!) for a local non-profit which provides a variety of social and community service to minority and immigrant children. Check out their site!

Tiffany really wants to work here!

The woman who "interviewed" me was really quite inspiring. She exuded so much passion and while I didn't really say much (it was more of a conversation than interview), I could definitely see myself working there. My interviewer asked me two questions. What are your aspirations and can you speak Spanish? I have been asked the former of these two questions before. It's one of my least favorite interview questions in the history of interview questions. I also really hate, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Shit if I know! Oh and, "Why do you think you'd be good at this job?" I always answer as honestly as I can, but it doesn't always benefit me to do as much. I've interviewed for jobs I knew I would have been phenomenal for, but for reasons which are sometimes not explained to me, have not been given the jobs. I have even contacted the interviewing parties to inquire as to what, in particular, excluded me from consideration. I have yet to receive a useful answer. Something other than, "We just found someone more suited to our needs." Blah!

I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much. I am supposed to receive a call tomorrow or Thursday inviting me for a follow-up, or telling me to go screw myself. I am almost positive I'll get a second interview. I'd have to meet with the two directors I'd be supporting. I wish I could say I was nervous. I'm not. I'll just walk in like I own the place, give them what I've got, and let the chips fall where they may. What choice do I have?

Oh, I also have two meetings with two state reps at the Capitol for volunteer work. And Thursday I meet with the volunteer coordinator at the LBJ Presidential Library.

Trying to keep me busy folks.

I am now going to go lock myself up the bathroom and hope that the steam from the hot shower can loosen some of this crud in my nose.

Lastly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNA!!!!! I love you.