Another Day, Another Application, Another Rejection

The rain has stopped. I must admit I enjoy a good, heavy, dark rain every now and again. It seems like everyone slows down a bit when it rains. You don't have to feel quite so guilty just sitting around cuddled under blankets with a book when it's raining.

But the sun is out and the business of life must go on. Procrastinating here, putting off yet another application drop off. This time it's the Union Bluff Hotel in York, Maine which isn't as far away as it sounds. Southern coastal Maine dips down almost hitting Massachusetts, leaving New Hampshire with a teenie tiny coastline. So it's really only a twenty minute drive to York, I've been told anyhow. I try not to drive around too much since I STILL don't have a valid driver's license. Hence another reason I need a job. I've paid off all the fines I owed but in order to be reinstated I need a special kind of insurance called an SR-22. Anyone ever heard of it? It's bullshit. Basically everyone I talk to about it, including the court system and the insurance companies themselves, don't seem to be able to give me a reasonable explanation of what it is. The best I can tell from the mumble jumble I've been served is that it's personal insurance basically. Insurance on myself because, apparently, I suck and am not to be trusted. But no one can seem to tell me for how long I need to have this. And it's super expensive. So if I lost my license because I couldn't afford the fines does it seem probable that I will be able to afford this crappy, unnecessary, over-priced insurance? So until I can save up the initial fee to get started I have to find a job and drive there unlicensed, praying to God I don't get pulled over just a little bit longer. It's an awful feeling. The constant anxiety couldn't be healthy. But what choice do have? I'm lucky I have what I have.
Part of the reason I was stuck with Mike for so long was because I needed the car. My Mom wants to go away all the time and it's her car so what do I have to stand on there? Other than the fact that she harped at me to ditch Mike, promising all the while that if I did she would back me up until I got on me feet. But apparently I am not getting there fast enough. Shit, it's like the worst time to be looking for a job. People with Master's Degrees are applying for the same fricken Friendly's Restaurant as me. I'm not even calling ahead today so they don't have a chance to blow me off. Maybe if I dress exceedingly well and have a big smile they will give me an interview. It's for a front desk/hostess position. It would be perfect for me since I hate manual labor. Just writing stuff/typing reservations, answering phones, being polite to people - I can DO that! For sure. Perfect. I really hope they hire me. I'd much rather work there than at Friendly's. Everyone pray for me!!!!

Chicago, New York, Detroit, and it's All the Same Street....

Anyone from the Northeast has probably heard of Hampton Beach. My Mom lives in Exeter which is pretty close to the beach which is swarming with tourists all summer despite the fact that it is overcrowded, dirty, and trashy. Whatever floats your boat. So Mike has decided that it has to be there where he opens his shop, which is probably a good idea. Both my brothers blow glass too so they want in and are beginning to bring my Mom around to thinking about financing it. All of that sounds great , I want to remain friends for life. But I really want us to break up and do our own thing. I'm just a little worried that if all that happens he'll be really immersed in my life and I don't know how that will go. Maybe it will be perfect, as we are pretty much just best friends and roommates as it is now. He's talking about getting an apartment with my little brother, Sam, now. That could mean he may actually leave. Yippee! It also means that seeing my family will mean seeing him. Could be good or bad. In some ways it would make me feel less alone maybe. But would it make it harder to meet new people?
I plan on staying out here in NH for now. I can afford the apartment we're in by myself, just barely of course. And I know I can keep my dogs there. My share of the dogs that is. He has to take four and I'll keep three because I never wanted them to have pups in the first place. I love them but they are so much work sometimes. Three will be so much easier than seven. Plus I know everyone in the building and can hit them up for rides if I have to. Apparently, my sister's boyfriend bought her a beater car a couple months ago and she won't drive it because it's too crappy so she said I could have it. I'm supposed to go get it this weekend. I'm a little worried to drive it back here; what if it breaks down, what if I get pulled over? But it's a car and my Mom said I could keep it registered under her name for the rest of the year or however long is left on it. She had it registered for my sister and my Mom and I have the same legal name so I can get it inspected and shit. Mike already talked to a guy who said if it ran and didn't have any gaping holes, he'd inspect it. So if that works out that would take care of one problem at least for a little while. The fact that I don't have a ride has kept me where I am (with Mike) because it's really hard to live out here with no car. There is hardly any public transportation. Even the grocery store is at least a half hour away. So I've been holding out for some sort of car to really assert my freedom. So, let's hope the thing makes it up here.
I would not have even known it was there if Mikey had not been going down there recently. He saw it and asked who it belonged to. He got the story about my sister and her bf, and then they said they were planning to junk it because it sucked. Mike was pissed and asked if I could have it. "Sure", they said, "We didn't think she would want it".
How on Earth could they think that? Have they ever seen me drive anything but a beater? Ever? No. I learned to drive in an old, smelly Dodge caravan. I ran a stop sign and almost killed me and my mother. I had to take my driving test three times, and only was eventually passed out of pity. But, I swear, I'm not a really bad driver. I've just always been wary of cops, even before I ever did anything to be afraid for. And in Mass. a state trooper rides along for the driving exam. Full get-up, jodhpurs, patent boots, GUN and all. Scary. I just could not relax. What's really so bad about a rolling stop?
Then, after driving my mom's cars for a year maybe, because you get your license when you're sixteen, or I did, I drove a couple of boyfriend's cars. Then by the time I drove my own-ish car, I was seventeen and some. All through my junior year of high school I worked at a little fish market to save my own money. I went to private school where I had lived in a dorm for my freshman and sophomore years but then my parents split up and I moved back home and commuted for my junior year. But anyway, we had classes on Saturday mornings and all the kids were always hungry a few hours after breakfast and I managed to have, like, one class that day so all the night before I would use my mom's stuff at home to make all these baked goods; like muffins, breads, brownies, all kinds of crap and I would sell it to all these rich kids. Don't get me wrong, I lived in a nice house and had nice clothes and was spoiled by any one's standards, but some of these kids made me look poor. I made pretty good money between that and my real job, especially since my mom funded my little bakery operation and let me keep all my profits. So with the money I saved I planned to go to a bunch of Phish shows that spring and summer. A bunch of friends went too. So I took a bus out to Salt Lake City Utah the summer after my junior year and met up with my boyfriend, who was twenty years old and I had just met, like, two months earlier. What the fuck was my mother on? I don't know, but the Doc prescribed so it must have been okay, right? Must have been strong, at least.
So anyway, he picked my up in SLC in an old, gray Mazda pick-up truck with a cap on the back that was about a foot and a half too short for the bed. We had to cover the gap with a tarp. We spent a few nights in Utah, then drove route 40, I think it was called, across the mountains to Denver, CO and stayed there a few nights. After that we were supposed to go to Wisconsin but instead we decided to take our time and drove slowly over to Indiana. We arrived there a little early for the shows so we decided to find a place to sleep for the night and chill out until everyone else got there. We were driving around looking for a suitable campsite and decided to get ice cream. So we stopped at a little shop in the town until dusk and then started out again.
We must have been spotted driving in, because no sooner did we pull out of the parking spot then we got pulled over for not having our headlights on. It was barely dark yet, mind you, and we weren't even a block away from the ice cream shop, we'd barely had a chance to turn them on. So of course, they searched us. We were out of weed so we didn't have to worry about that. But my boyfriend broke like Filo dough and told them everything he knew about the mushrooms packed in our cooking supplies. I never would have told. They would never have found them. They arrested him and wanted to take me into custody for being under eighteen because they thought I was a runaway. I told them to call my mother and ask her to verify she knew of my whereabouts. That she did, and they told me to be on my way. I could go to the arraignment the next day at the town court house.
Great. I had to break it to them that I didn't know how to drive stick and I would be stuck here on the side of the road. You won't believe what they did then. The same piggies who just arrested a kid for less than a gram of mushroom shake after pulling him over for no headlights at 6pm in July, drove our truck to a motel and dropped me off. That must be SO illegal. There were no rooms available because of the Phish shows in town. They informed me there was a curfew of, like, ten for people under eighteen so I didn't want to risk trying to learn to drive stick that night. So I lurked around the parking lot until I saw some kids who looked like they were there for the same thing, the show. It wasn't difficult as most of the place was occupied by our type. I asked if I could crash on their floor after relating my story and they agreed.
I really couldn't sleep well that night. As soon as the sun rose I was out in the lot trying to figure out a stick shift. I asked a couple guys walking by for a basic explanation. From there I proceeded to buck and lurch through South Bend, Indiana trying to find the court house. I must have been pulled over five times that day for running stop signs and generally driving like an asshole. I really sucked at first. Now I would never buy an automatic car, ever. But then, I was terrified.
I am out of time now. I have to do all my end of shift stuff. I'm going to try to set up my scanner this weekend so I can add more visual aides to my stories. I felt more like writing about the past lately. Rather than continue to complain about the present. I think it's more interesting entertainment for people. It's making me remember a lot of things I haven't thought about in a long time.
Later.

Of Mice and Tanning

I feel like I could sleep and sleep forever. If I could only take one thing with me for the rest of my life, it would be difficult to choose between a book and my fluffy down comforter. Either way, I can always escape reality by reading or sleeping. Unless of course I had a life-time supply of H and my down comforter, that would be bliss.

So we're not supposed to accept anything that any of the drivers try to give us. I think that's bullshit. So if someone tries to be nice by giving me some rolls or candy or soda, I'm supposed to say 'no thanks'? Yeah, right. It doesn't happen everyday, but every so often. It's generally something that they were going to eat themselves or throw away anyhow. So obviously I do accept whatever I'm offered, and I usually eat it too. This driver just came by and saw me eating Smart food, and asked if I liked popcorn. Obviously, as I am eating it now, I like it. So he gives me this very phallic looking popcorn thing. I can't help smirking as I reach for it. I thank him profusely as it always makes guys happy when they think you're happy because of something they did. It makes my job so much easier if I just flatter and flirt a bit. But I wonder where they get some of this stuff, what stores sell these things? So this thing is called a Caramel Cob. Seriously, I wish I had a camera. I'll try to describe it - obviously it is in the shape of an ear of corn, and it's in a plastic sleeve with green husks decorating the bottom to mimic an actual ear of corn. It then has a 'smack & snack' logo, instructing the 'fun way to open!' by pushing the top of cob through wrapper by smacking bottom of cob upward(I tried it, it worked)! I swear I'm not making this up. And you know what? It's actually quite good and caramelly chewy too.

I am so pale. I stood outside today and took off my shoes and rolled up my pants as I watched the dogs run around. I made the mistake of looking down at my white legs and they looked so white they appeared to be glowing almost translucent against the grass. I'm not used to being so pale. I've always worked on farms up until recently. That being what it is, I'd always have a tan by the end of April from standing in the sun all day. Super pale does not suit me at all - but neither does time-consuming natural tanning for tanning's sake. If I'm doing an outdoor activity, even if I can read outside, great. But I can't just sit there soaking up the sun, I get too hot and too bored (I hate the word bored actually. It's false anyway. I'm never so much bored as I am sick and tired and scared of my own thoughts). And tanning in a salon is not something I ever really took to. I am not good about going enough times in a row to get tan, so it seems like a waste of time and money. Although maybe I should keep trying since I'm all set with farm jobs and I have little time and less money for outdoor leisure activities. At least now I have a yard I can lounge in. And I can pretend I'm being productive sitting out there watching the dogs. Dogs need to go out, don't they?

The girl who works the shack opposite me at work at nights also happens to live in the same apartment building as me. She lives upstairs and so the logic is that she gets an indoor parking space in one of the garages on the property. At first Mike was all pissed that he didn't get an indoor spot. Well, thank God. Because turns out Laura has mice attacking her car from the nests they have built in the engine compartment. Sucks, right? They are messing with the wiring causing radio shorts. Luckily they didn't cause a fire from the stuff they hauled in there for nests. They stuffed leaves and cigarette buts in crevices. That would have been wicked fucked up if that happened to our car. Not that it's great for her, but it's not me. Is that awful to say, am I jinxing myself?

Yippee!!! Only an hour left to go for the night! Every other Wednesday I get to go home at one. That's a six hour shift as opposed to twelve. Most weeks I work forty-eight hour weeks, not by choice might I add. I'd rather work less and make less, actually, I'd rather work less and make more, much more. Maybe some day. For now, Goodnight. I am going to go mill about to pass the minutes, sweep the floor, finish up paperwork, smoke a onie in the shadows. Until next time.

Nellie