The Next Move

I've never been the kind of girl who plays games. I'm straightforward and sincere, and will generally tell you how I'm feeling, should the case present itself. I've never played too much "hard to get," or teased anyone. I've never purposely ignored someone. I've always felt that these games people play were useless and a waste of time, and someone who was worth my time didn't need to get caught up in all that. I've always said that this is who I am; you can take it or leave it. And I honestly don't care. Nonetheless, my dating life sucks, but I blame that on my being picky.
Yet there's one person that's been in my life for six years now, one that I can't seem to shake, and I'm not sure if I want to or not. I care about him, but although he says he cares about me as well, I just can't bring myself to believe him. Why? Well, for one, he's lied to me and betrayed my trust in the past on more than one occasion. That alone should be enough reason for me to cut him off altogether. Another reason is that he just doesn't seem to show me he cares. Therefore, I have decided to put one of these stupid games that I have always avoided into play. I'm ignoring him. It's not so much out of conniving as it is out of exhaustion. I got tired of being the one to call, the one to say hello first. I got tired of his broken promises to call, and the feeling of being ignored. I don't deserve it, and in my opinion (let me know if you agree with me on this) am owed just a little bit of consideration here. For example: two days ago I used ten of my last dollars (and my lunch hour) to help him out. Did I get a thank you? No. Did he call me since then? No. Did he at least text me? No.
That's when I decided to set the wheels in motion. I want to use 2008 for myself, to make myself a better person, and to grow. The way I have done things in the past hasn't gotten me as far as I want to be, so I'm doing my best to get what I want. I stopped calling him. No texts, either. I didn't hear anything from him until last night. A text message, saying "Hey," nothing else. I didn't answer. Then, an instant message this morning: "hi." Didn't feeling like answering that either. One text message and one (unanswered) phone call later, I'm still here, ignoring him. He knows where to find me. He didn't even leave a message before. I figure if he cares, he'll try harder to get in touch with me. If he doesn't, then, well, that's pretty self-explanatory. I'll deal with that when it gets there, but either way I'll be OK. I don't know what I'll say to him when I do speak to him. Maybe just act nonchalant, like I had better things to do. Like, I said, I've never been one of "those girls."
And I don't know if I want to become one.

Twenty Seven Dresses and the One That Bothers Me the Most

If I wasn't a total cynic before, I am one now. I also think that I have just watched the last chick-flick I will watch for a very long time. I've noticed that I've slowly but surely stopped listening to love songs. I make exceptions for old songs, like the ones by Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble, because they are more tied to memories of family and friends as opposed to relationships or crushes or whatever. I listen to music I can choreograph in my head, music for which I can plan elaborate dance numbers. There's generally no one in them but myself, maybe a random person if I need an imaginary dance partner. The point is, I now know for sure I won't be getting married. Ever. The idea is nice, but I don't think it's for me. I watch these movies, like "27 Dresses," and the stuff seems so outrageous that I feel for sure it's impossible. So why wait for it to happen to me?

8.457

I think I have found the shallowest site on the Web. (And no, it's not "www.puddle.com" You think you're witty...) And sadly, I have to admit, I am a member. I tell you what, though, it really is difficult trying not to get caught up in the "shallowness" of it all. What is it? It's called FaceTheJury.com, and it's one of those sites where people "rate" your photo on a scale of one to ten, ten being the "hottest" rating one can give or receive. There is quite a variety of people on there, allowing for different tastes and whatnot. But in the end, it really boils down to are you good looking in a particular photo or not? Generally, there are tons of girls with photos in low-cut tank tops and lots of eyeliner and lip gloss and plenty of shirtless guys. The almost always get the "tens." Me? I'm an 8.4. Whoop-de-do. I honestly don't care about my rating. It's nice, but at the end of the day, being on there just makes me feel like an old lady. (In my defense, I joined out of supreme boredom after my knee injury in July. To be fair, I have met a handful of truly interesting people. But my profile has been a bit of a turn-off, I think. Do I care? Nah. It may piss some people off, but it has done a nice job of weeding people out.) Why do I feel like an old lady? Well, first of all, I'm turned off by the blatant sexuality plastered all over most of other members' photos. Then, when I actually go to read what some write in their profile boxes, I see exactly where our education system has dropped the ball, and my skin crawls. What really makes me laugh, though, are the people that go on there saying that they are looking for a serious relationship! Not to knock Internet dating or anything, it's really an up-and-coming method for meeting potential partners, but would you really want to base your future on someone you meet at a meat-market kind of site?
You may ask, why am I still a member if I seemingly loathe it so much? Well, I still do get bored occasionally, and there are a few people that I enjoy talking with that are on there. But chances are I'll delete my account before long and have done with it.

I know there was a point I wanted to make, but it flew out the window.

For a Loop

I don't know what is going on. Maybe it's something in the air, maybe it's the moon. I don't get it, but two men hit on me tonight, and then some! No, I wasn't molested, and no, I didn't get any action. Sorry to disappoint y'all. But all the same...holy shit!
I am used to flirting; that's normal social interaction. I am NOT, however, accustomed to men hitting on me, asking for my number, and trying to get in my pants. What happened? Well, first, I went to a restaurant this evening with my parents for dinner, which was really nice, and on my way out, I saw an older man at the bar with whom I used to work way back when I was 16. Now, if he's not 50 yet, he almost is, and he was kind of like a nice uncle when I worked with him at the Deli. I always make an effort to say hi to people I know when I'm out, and he is no exception. Tonight, though, I thought he might kiss me! With my mom right there! It was like finding out the Olsen twins had turned 18....fair game! My next move I still don't quite understand, and I kind of regret it, but I rolled down my window and said goodbye as I saw him walking to his car. He approached, (I should have driven off!) and asked for my phone number! Believe me this, the turn off is not that he is a good deal older, but that I still feel like the 16 year-old hostess that I was when we first met around him. It creeps me out! It would be the same if one of my former teachers asked me out.
The second occasion was a flat out booty call. I had been friends with this one guy for a little while and we kind of lost touch, and when I saw him again last weekend, I couldn't for the life of me remember why. Now I do. I gave him my phone number, and tonight he called me, asking what I was doing tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, it is the middle of the week, and he called after 8:00 p.m. without any particular plan, asking me what I was doing for the rest of the night. Sounds an awful lot like, "Come over and let's have sex" to me. Unless someone calls with something specific like, "Let's go see a movie" or "Would you like to go get dinner?" no one except those with whom you hang out on a regular basis can, without sexual motive, ask to "hang out." Does that make sense? Am I being silly? I pretty much put my "casual sex" self up on the shelf in 2006, and just am not into sleeping around anymore. It's just not me. I'd really like for it to mean something. So hey, if you ask me, and I say no, it doesn't mean I don't like you, it's just that I don't want to have sex. Capisce? I did politely decline his offer, saying I had alot to do tomorrow and was very tired (not a total lie). Still, the very idea of a booty call just turns me off.

The "and then some" factor? Well, you'll just have to ask me for that one. But it was very nice.

I have tomorrow off. Perhaps I'll blog a little more when I'm not sleepy.

The Day Off

Maybe I'm just a melancholy and morbid kinda gal, but for me, today was the perfect kind of day: cold, (about 40-something, and currently 37 degrees) and rainy. Not extreme downpours, but a slow drip, like a leaky percolator. And I didn't have a damn thing I had to do. Since I went out dancing last night after my workout, I slept in, with Kassie snoring (and shedding) right next to me. Also, as luck would have it, I would be getting a massage later on. My mother had bought my grandmother a gift certificate for a massage and she never used it (I know! Who on earth could possibly pass on a free massage?), and since my mother is friends with the massage therapist, she let someone else use it instead even though it was way past its 6-month expiration date. My father didn't want to, and my mother is even more body conscious than I am, so I was next in line, and I took it. I'm no dummy. I may be fat, but I'll get a massage, especially when it's free. So I rolled out of bed, showered, and put on some fleece sweats and headed out the door.
The massage was great, but I didn't feel so relaxed that I just wanted to roll back into bed. Instead, I grabbed some soup at Atlanta Bread Company and sat and read about Julia Child and one woman's quest to complete all of the recipes documented in (the best cookbook ever written, the acme of all cookbooks) Mastering the Art of French Cooking. When I needed a scenery change, I trucked my chilly-but-fleece-covered butt over to Borders. My favorite thing about Borders is the kind of people-watching one can do there. You have all types there: the students (which vary from the giggling high school students to the very quiet and very studious med students), parents, little old ladies, comic books guys. (The manga kids stick to their section and don't often frequent the cafe. You'll find them sitting on the floor by the shelves.) And then there are the weirdos. Oh, the weirdos. There is a woman that is there every time I am there, and I swear she does nothing but sit at Borders, often bringing her own lunch, and read stacks of magazines and nap. Lately she has taken to bringing a portable DVD player and watching movies, without using headphones. Highly irritating. I don't know what her story is, nor can I figure it out. The only time I have ever heard her speak was to respond to a nice young man who asked her if she was ever a substitute teacher, because he thought remembered her. She responded that yes, she was at one point, and to tell him he had already introduced himself before on a different occasion, and refused his handshake. Yeah. Weirdo.
Today there was a different kind of weirdo, even though the aforementioned one was there as well, napping. A young man sat at the table next to me as I was setting up my day planner for the new year, and it looked like he was on a date with a young lady. I don't know if I'd call myself "nosy." I think I prefer the word "curious." You'd probably call me "nosy," though. Don't deny it. Anyways, since he was within earshot, I picked up what he was talking about. And in the hour or so I was there, I don't think the girl got five words in. She just sat there with a smile plastered on her face, listening to this guy talk about his career as a teacher. He kept talking about how his students would definitely remember him and his odd teaching methods, some of which involved rewriting misogynistic rap lyrics into parodies, and his reassigning class tasks with unorthodox "ghetto" terms. I can understand trying to get kids' attention. I can understand wanting to get through to them. But this guy, with what he was commenting on and the anecdotes he shared, seemed to me like he just loved hearing himself talk. I used to have two springer spaniel puppies that would bark at each other every night while I had dinner with my family, not because they were fighting, but because they realized how much they liked the sound of their voices. There were distinct similarities between this guy and those two pups. I couldn't really tell if the girl was into him or not. Her body language indicated that she was faking it, but I could be wrong. At the end of his epic spiel, he looks at her and says, "You're a very good listener." Did he catch on that he was rambling?
And I realize I'm rambling now. Rats. At the same time though, as annoying as listening to this guy was, I wonder if I am any different from him, through this blog?

Working Girl

Today was pretty much full of busy work. I'm feeling slightly nervous, like I'm wondering when I'll be put on the spot. I don't think it will be for a while, but I'm still getting used to the idea of a new job. At times I feel like a third wheel, like I'm just there to take up space. Fortunately, my coworkers are really nice. Maybe since tomorrow will be a shorter-staffed, longer day, I'll get to do more than just watch.
On another note, I've been asking the various Hispanic residents if they'd be interested in a class to learn English, and every single one said YES. Not just a few, not a majority - EVERYONE. So I started to think. (Yeah, I know, that's my first mistake.) I keep hearing from people, whenever the subject of immigrants comes up, is that they "need to learn to speak goddamn English!" The thing is, many people don't stop to think of what exactly it might be that is holding these individuals back from learning. I have found several reasons. No one I have spoken with is against the idea. No one is afraid of "losing" his or her culture. One issue is time. With all of the work they are doing, at all different hours, there is barely any time to get decent rest, much less go to a class. Another issue is money. Many, if not most, cannot afford to pay to go to a school or buy books. True, there are sometimes classes available, but in smaller towns they are hard to find and hard to staff. What those that are screaming for more English speaker don't realize is that one can't do it alone. Get out and help. See what you can do to form or contribute to English classes. What do you expect? Osmosis? Learning a second language is not easy, even for those who are lucky enough to be exposed to higher learning.

OK...soapbox down.
I'm going to bed. I can't think of anything else to say.

So far, so fantastic....

As many of you know, today was my first day of my first full-time job. Forty-hour work weeks, here I come! I started my training as a leasing consultant/agent off by being a mystery shopper. I was given an apartment guide and five different apartment complexes to contact via email, telephone, and in person, as if I were looking to lease. It was pretty interesting, actually. By asking my own questions, I got a feel for what people might be asking me, and how to answer them. I'm not quite sure if I can base my entire future experience here on this one day or not, but so far I like it. I pretty much jumped right in when I got there. I was standing by the door to my supervisor's office, waiting to speak with her, and I hear "Ummmm....no Spanish?" from an office behind me, so I craned my neck back and mouthed, "You want me to get that?" The woman was my assistant manager, and she emphatically nodded and thrust the phone at me. After helping the tenant on the phone and in person, I was able to get a feel for the Hispanic tenants we do have. I also got an idea to help them in some way to learn to speak English, which led into my boss suggesting I teach an English course for the residents, which would be something our development would have that no other complex does. I'd rather find some university student who actually wants to teach for a living, but whatever I can do, I'll do it, even if all I can do is post fliers or a note in the newsletter about somewhere that does offer English classes. I wonder what I'll be doing tomorrow?
This may not be what I do forever, but for once I feel like my life is coming together.

On to the next thing!

This evening marks my last shift at the Village Deli. I am absolutely thrilled to be done there, but to me, it's alot like when I graduated. I guess it still hasn't kicked in yet that I'm not a waitress anymore, that I've moved on to better things. It was strange telling my customers, people I've seen at least once a week, nearly every week, for the last ten years that it was my last shift. One guy even teared up a little. It was nice hearing all the well wishes from everyone.
I still remember my first night there. It was late March, 1998, a Friday night. I started out as a hostess, and I got thrown in on one of the busiest nights of the week. Being 15 years old, I had to get a work permit, but I was saving up spending money for my first trip to Europe. Over the years I don't think I ever imagined I'd be there so long, but I have never known an employer who took as good care of me as Les and Lorna. They didn't have any children, but I may as well have been their daughter. They were understanding about my family issues, my school, and my other jobs. They would even claim me as their daughter half the time.
After I graduated though, it hit me that I could no longer just wait tables. It's a worthy profession, and it's not easy work, not in the least. It may seem easy, and there are people out there who think all waitresses are just people who can't or won't get better jobs, but that is seldom true. It's quick money, and it makes it easy for those who are in school. But I know I couldn't do it forever, and I'll never do it again. It's a part of my life that is over and done.

Oddly disappointed...

I really only have three shifts left at the restaurant where I work before I leave for my new job, so I really don't know if I should let this bother me or not. I've been there over a span of nearly ten years, and am one of only a few employees who is skilled in all of the front-of-house tasks. Yet lately, I've been getting evening shifts only, and only waiting tables instead of that and bartending as well. I have never had a problem with working where I was needed, but this evening one of my coworkers asked me to switch shifts with her tomorrow, which would allow me to bartend for the lunch shift, while she would serve for me in the evening. However, when she called to clear it with the manager, he said no. Wouldn't one think that if something were wrong with my performance, they could tell me?
Do they really mean it when they say they're sorry to see me go?
Should I even be worried?

MBFW = My Best Friend's Wedding

OK, so I'm on my first bit of DiSaronno for the evening, just to mellow out. Thanks to those of you who offered advice on the whole MBFW issue. But it's not over just yet. In fact, I know for certain that it won't be over until she leaves for her honeymoon. I love my best friend dearly. She's like a little sister, and we've been friends for ten years now, which is the longest relationship I've had with anyone, short of my parents. But my goodness, she has her expectations. I understand that a wedding is supposed to be that special day, and you should get things like you want them. But I have a feeling they are going to come at a crazy expense, and I don't really mean monetarily. At least not for her...well, maybe not. I'm trying to be obliging and do what she wants, but I tend to do this alot and get screwed frequently in that department. My biggest issue right now is, what do I do if I can't hold the shower at one of her relatives' homes? Can anyone suggest any ideas for an inexpensive (and tasteful) place to hold it? I'm praying she doesn't turn into a Bridezilla, but I did witness her Senior Prom FlipOut, and am still scarred.
Also, as psyched as I am to lose the weight, does anyone find it slightly odd, maybe rude even, that she bought my dress THREE sizes too small? Not one, by mistake, not two, because that was all they had, but THREE sizes too small????

I have a feeling this bottle isn't going to last me long....

New Year, New Beginnings

Happy New Year, y'all! I've been meaning to write for quite some time, but every time I get around to it, something distracts me. It's not that hard. I have so many things to do this year, so many things I plan on accomplishing, it's almost overwhelming. Almost.
First of all, I have a new job! Yes, me, a new job! I thought I couldn't get a job working the Fry-o-lator at McDonald's, and I got a phone call offering me a job. What will I be doing? Well, I won't be waiting tables or slinging chicken salad and pimiento-cheeseburgers. I won't be retrieving 2 and 4 ounce sides of ranch dressing for ungrateful jerks. I won't be cleaning and scouring tables after cheap tippers slobber all over them. What? What's that? Get on with it and tell you what my new job is? Oh...damn. OK, I'll be working as a leasing agent for a local apartment complex. No, this is not a permanent career change. Well, it is, sort of, in the sense that I'm changing from what I was doing. I don't plan on doing this longer than a year. But I do know that I won't be leaving Augusta for another 6 months, and if I had to continue to wait tables for much longer, I'd be one mean bitch. It was one thing when I was serving and going to school, because I had something else to focus on, but now that this is all I'm doing, it's driving me up a wall, and I hate it. I love working with people, don't get me wrong. But I can't stand being someone's servant, because, as sad as this may sound, many, many people still see waitresses (especially at a place like where I work) as slightly substandard.
What exactly will I be doing? As a leasing agent, I'll kind of be like a real estate agent for this particular apartment complex. I'll be developing a new skill set, with business and marketing, which is great. I'll have evenings off, and a real work schedule. I may work a weekend or two, but if that means I get nights off, that is fine with me.
Next item on the docket is my best friend's wedding. It's not just the wedding that's the issue; it's the weight I have to lose for it. I currently have to lose three dress sizes to fit into the dress she's already bought for me. And this time I really WANT to lose this weight. I need to. I have to. I'm already doing a hell of alot better in the diet department, although I refuse to call it a "diet." Being away from the Deli will help too. I know at one point I'm actually going to have to weigh myself and take my measurements, but I really, really don't want to. It's like I'll have to realize just exactly how fat I am, and I'll have all those numbers floating around in my head all the time, mocking me. Ugh. Maybe this will show me exactly what I can do.
And then there's the wedding itself. When Cindy asked me to be her Maid of Honor (actually, she didn't really ask me, it was just understood), I thought I just showed up, wore the dress, held her train and her bouquet, and threw the bachelorette party. I didn't know about the bridal shower! I am horrible at delegating. And I'm terrible at asking people to donate money for stuff, let alone people in the same financial situations as myself (or worse!). It's like asking a homeless guy for change, at least that's how I feel. I thought I might have it easy, since the shower was going to be held at Cindy's mom's house, but now that that's been dubbed "inappropriate," I may have to find somewhere to hold it. I'm also having to pay for invitations for 70+ people, and I'm guessing that maybe 30% will actually show. The menu plan isn't so bad; I'm actually quite good at that. But what about everything else?

Can anyone give me tips on how to tactfully ask for money?