work. oh the drudgery

Work, work, work.
You know, that torture that we all suffer through in order to have some playtime.

Right now I'm in that awkward adjustment time in which I'm not sure if I've made the right choice to change jobs/industries, I'm still learning and therefore highly dependent on the help and assistance of others, making new friends and figuring it all out.

Growing up, my parents weren't exactly exemplary role models for....  well pretty much everything.  OK, maybe excellent role models for alcoholism, emotional absence, co-dependence and barely just surviving.  However in the work realm, there are very few examples of what "normal" employees were.

My dad worked at the state lottery for a great many years, which was cool, however most of those years were post divorce when I never even saw the guy, let alone know if he was even collecting a paycheck (and btw, the last child support payment from garnished wages arrived in my 20's, so... ).

My mom was a stay at home mom for a great many years and was always teaching us something when we were young.  After the divorce (thank god for that good sense) when I was in 3rd grade, Mom did something super cool.  She went and got a J-O-B.  Not only did my mom get a job, but she got a job in a field typically exclusive to the male, white or Hispanic folks- landscaping.  She worked for a major medical center on the landscaping team.  Landscaping was nothing glorious- just keeping the grass green & mowed pretty much.  But my mom did take pride in her job and that was encouraging.  Then....

Then my mom, who had come out of the closet and announced her card carrying membership to the not-exactly-straight-ahem-lesbian crowd, found a relationship (not her first, but her first serious).  This girlfriend, which would have been step-mom (or other mom) if this state could have figured out then what it still can't now,  was awesome.  She had a head on her shoulders, introduced us to new stuff, and was pretty chill.  She also worked, as a paramedic.  What I glean now (hindsight being 20-20) is that in order to work many of those 24 hour shifts, a little extra help was needed.  Never good to have that around my co-dependent alcoholic mother who is influenced so easily.  So yeah, my mom was eventually discharged from her job because she had a debilitation (bone spur) that was caused by her job (being on her feet), however I do remember quite a few days where she was home "sick" and unable to sleep....   I can't even say that she has held a job past that. :(

So, my role models suck.

Being a stay at home mom myself allowed me the fantastic opportunity to learn a bit about myself.  I helped in the kids' classrooms, volunteered for committees, worked part time, finished school, and made connections.  It was fun at the same time as being mind numbing difficult and boring all at once.  But I want to make sure that I could work a job. Work a job and have pride in what I do.  Work a job and have other people appreciate me for being there to do what was asked.  Have a career to be proud of and identify myself by.  I'm a "....."   A trade, a profession, a skill in which to produce something of value.  This is what I was missing from my parents and what I want to provide to my children.

But alas, I am sitting inside my head at work wondering if I'm saying or typing "do I really give a flying fuck" as I so desperately want to do just so I at least can run away from this scary frontier with a big smash-boom-bah that I can so readily imagine.  Instead, I type words that sound so placating (my apologies) and vague (if there is anything else) just to continue this unexplored and yet not always fulfilling journey I call "work".

Then there is the time I almost grabbed a co-worker's boobs (like a little honk-honk) because she startled me, my hands flew up and her chest is about that high.... we laughed real good.  Those part's I like (the time in space, not just the boobs (and not her boobs specifically)).

May 2009... That's a while!

Yep, last time blog flog dog published was may 2009. Not that I intended to stop, but you know it kimda fell by the wayside - ya know. I must confess, I've been having a ton of "moments" where I think that I would totally love to tell a story in a certain epic blogging way.... But then I'm distracted immediately (what's new) and it doesnt ever go past the thought to blog. But what the hell...had an epic night and wanted to immortalize it somehow, so here i am... And perhaps you too :) So I have an extra job on the weekends as needed helping out with some promotional campaigns for a media company. I get to talk to people all weekend and paid to do it too... Don't get me wrong, I have to work, but it is fun to do as infrequently as I do do it. So this weekend I find myself in Fremont. As in kinda bay area. I say kinda because I'm always so excited to go to the bay cause I love the ocean, I love seeing friends if I get the chance, and being in or near big cities or metropolis always gets me jazzed (please tell me what the fuck is wrong with that sentence grammatically cause I can't figure out what... But it sure sounds wrong). But Fremont is not by the ocean or friends. It is kinda like an armpit (no offense Fremontians). No chance to hang with friends (fremont, no cell phone, tired). But there is a hot tub at our lovely best western and by George, after 12 hours of work/ travel and a big mexican dinner including two delish margaritas, I'm going in. Borrow a swimsuit from my friend (who has a larger bust then mine so it sadly appears as if I have deflated something....) and go on down. Upon entering the pool, the scene that awaits: an olderish couple sitting on the side of the pool with their feet dangling in the water. A guy in the water just hanging on the side (not like a toddler, white knuckle death grip on the edge, feet splayed out, but arms up over the sides, just chilling like in an armchair), two teenage girls on lounge chairs listening to music, and another two young girls in the wArm pool of relaxation... Anticipating awkward silence when I interrupt their convo by hopping in the hot tub, I settle in and observe. The girls continue to chat however and I attempt my best efforts at melting away. But alas, I overhear the girls mention cochella and am complled I interject- "holla! Totally wanted to be there and sad I'm not." And thus I have two new friends. We discuss tupac (which the iPad strongly believes should be Tulsa, or oddly, tupamaros, tapachula - wtf?), tupac, and the hologram sensation and how overplayed it can quickly become when anyone can magically go on tour post mortom, which begs the question- are you watching a performance? Or just a recording? (recording presented in a very bad ass way, but whateves) So yeah, we got to discussing/chatting, which really means that they were listening to me postulate. I tell them about the history of NASCAR, future of ota radio broadcasting, etc... Getting to know the girls I find out that they actually live down the street and one of the music listening girls hopped the fence to break in so they could all go swimming. Bad ass high school seniors... Kinda. Then, the random pool guy joins us... I notice he sets down his little flask of alcohol and indicate how lovely it is to be having such an awesome evening with his own party in a bottle. Awesome right? Not till he said "yeah, but I'm bummed cause I lost my weed in the bushes". Friends I ask you, how do you respond ti or follow that? "aww shucks man, guess you'll have to spend your night only half as fucked as you were hoping....", or "gee, I'm plumb out myself otherwise I'd help ya out"... Or how about "maybe you shouldn't have brought your mo fo weed to the pool dumbass, lay of the alky and perhaps you'd be able to keep track of your possessions?". Naw, the teens just commented that yesterday was the day for partaking to which I followed up with how 420 day was started... So I told some fun stories, the girls were impressed and amused (or I'm just being egotistical and generous here) and I make up a fake stories about the teens (in from Albuquerque for an internship in banking, fake names for them- Jennifer & christine). Tell the dude that I live down the street and I hopped the fence to go for a swim (and he kindly educated me on how to enter the pool without hopping the fence). The girls play along and we continue on... Talk about the crazy mofo in Davis/sac who hijacked cars etc (weed dude shares that he's been to sac area before- north highlands!). We discuss tv shows, "Christine" sharing that she liked dexter, which like a boss, Chris (weed dude) kindly shares that he read one of the dexter books while in prison. Right? I am thinking that not a goddamn thing would be funnier or more entertaining at this point. And it just keeps going... Chris also shares that he's 27 (or maybe 28- this wasnt funny so I didn't really retain), has three kids, in three years (like a boss 'cause coming home from the hospital every new parent is all about how early that next kid can arrive!), he works construction, lives in Fremont but is at the hotel cause the company is paying for it... Yeay for new friends! Chris the dbag leaves and I've managed to spend an hour entertaining 2-4 teenage girls and making up stories for this lame creeper, hopefully inspire the teen girls to lead lives in which they in turn will have stories to entertain other young folks with, and find out that the girls are contemplating dining and ditching at Denny's. Cause if you're going to eat and not pay- splurge girls, go big! (I think one girl has sense to notify others that it's just mean to dine & dash - I agree and hope they listened to her sense of reason). Oh, and I'm sufficiently melted and turned into a raisin from all this time in the hot tub :) I swear folks, one of the most entertaining evenings in a long time. And btw, it must be me because as I went in search for the ice machine, I make a friend and we exchange info. I share that the third floor ice machine doesn't work, he shares that the ice bucket is under the bathroom sink. We then quest together to the second floor to obtain the desired ice. Epic night folks. Wanted to get it out there cause I have to share this kind of fun. Btw, my fake name was crystal. And the teens inform me that this glorious hotel is called the hooker hotel... Awesome. Night y'all!