Dear Internet, How I Have Missed Thee!

Dear Internet,

I must confess that I am writing to you while not wearing any underthings. No one is here to care, and I’m sure you don’t mind, but I just wanted to clear the air here. What you also can’t see is that I am in my pajamas post 3-day shower hiatus cleansing shower. (I realize this sentence is awkward and may not make sense and I’m sorry, but I am slightly giddy with pajama-clad freedom)  Why get dressed if you don’t have to? That’s a philosophy I’ve subscribed to since I was young and weekends involved no jeans until at least 5 p.m. when it was house-leaving time. Being a night shift employee only accentuates those tendencies, and I used to spend whole weekdays in my pajamas playing rule-edited Monopoly with a toddler. Now that getting dressed is a necessity 7 days out of 7, today feels wildly decadent.

Internet, I must also confess that I have missed you with a raging passion. Only I didn’t realize it, because I have been too busy to step back and realize how lonely I was without you. I spent this morning reading the blogs I haven’t had time to catch up on and commenting on many of them. Commenting! I used to obsessively comment and now I haven’t in weeks and weeks. My head was so full of unsaid unhilarious replies to posts that I couldn’t clickety-click out of there, and it was getting crowded. Now that I’ve freed up that space, I spent the hour after blog time watching TV. But not just one show- no, internet; unfettered TV time can’t be wasted in that way! I watched the beginning of a cheesy horror movie whose title escapes me – the one with the girl my cousin once christened Lightbulb Head when she was in Noxema commercials starring in it – and then part of the Royal Tenenbaums, which I now realize I have to watch again soon; and then slices of several home decor/remodeling shows and some Ina Garten pasta recipe and a commercial with a cute dog rolling over.

How does anyone get anything done with both TV and internet at their disposal? I have 6 chapters of textbook and a short essay to write before tomorrow, and I have cracked the book and set out my highlighters and pulled out a notebook and a pen and moved no further. So now I need to go do that and stop linking to silly shit and posting silly shit (though did I mention the missing of you, internet? You are dear to me and I am so happy to see you again!)

Love,
Melanie

jobs I’d like to have when I grow up

(I’ve been thinking of list after list since reading over at Mighty Girl about her things to do before she dies/things to remember when she dies.)

 

1. Author.  I’d love to curl up at my laptop all day, drinking endless cups of coffee, pounding out a cheesy romance novel with some hulking, shirtless guy on the cover.  He would be the Duke of Something and be all manly and macho and slightly forceful with the feisty heroine, who is unsexy until Duke Something comes along and uncovers her hotness. 
2. Editor.  Because I love correcting grammar and punctuation and spelling and sentence flow and all that (how’s that for sentence flow, BTW?)  And nothing ruins a good book like bad grammar or a change in tense.  I really think editing is half the novel in some cases.  Also, reading for a job sounds lovely.
3. Shopkeeper.  I want to own my own tiny gift-type shop, the kind that you walk in and exclaim at all the weird and lovely things that you would love to gift to everyone you know.  I would have strange old-fashioned tin toys, and antique little gee-gaws and unusual bejeweled items and lovely paper and maybe some fancy soaps in gifty boxes.  I would play ethnic music all day and be friends with the coffee shop or bookstore owner next door and we would hang out and drink macchiatos all day at one shop or the other, and I would give fantastic Xmas gifts.
4. Barista.  Because I heart Starbucks passionately and want to learn how to make macchiatos the Starbucks way.
5. Bartender/waitress – two jobs I’ve always thought it was weird that I never had.  Isn’t everyone a waitress at some point in high school or college?  And bartending appeals to me so much, maybe because I love the idea I have that low-cut tops equal more tips (and we know I love showing off my boobs) and I could also learn to  mix drinks, which is a good real-life skill to have.
6. Prenatal yoga teacher.  I really plan to do this one.  Once I have more time and disposable income, I’m going to become certified.  Then I’m going to start having free classes for low-income pregnant women, because they are so marginalized by society.  You go to WIC and they treat you like you’re one step from the crack pipe, or like because you are poor you are stupid.  I hated that about being a welfare momma.  I want to help those women do something that makes them feel good and whole within their bodies, that makes them realize how freaking worthwhile and amazing they really are.  Yoga helps you get in touch with your muscles and your bones and your mind all at once, and I think that I was so utterly lucky to have a mom who paid for me to take it while I was pregnant – I think it helped my pregnancy and birth experience so much and I want to share that with other people who don’t have anyone to buy it for them.  Yoga is becoming such a rich white-bread hobby, and it shouldn’t be – it should be something anyone can benefit from, even if they can’t shell out $150 a month to some fancy studio.
7. Librarian.  Hmmm, bookish theme, here, no?  But I’ve always wanted, from when I was little, to work in a library.  That would just be such a great culmination of a dream.  A bookstore would be good, too, but there is something about libraries that just amazes me.  We live in a world where the library is one of the few amazing free things left – where you can go get a book, a movie, a CD, a magazine, whatever, for free; and you can go listen to story time with your kid, get a museum pass, see somebody juggle or do magic tricks or talk about owls or show a movie about Kwanzaa; all of it free and right there and open to everyone in your community.  Libraries, to me, are fucking empowering.
8. Woman of leisure.  No, actually, I don’t know if I could really handle that.  I think that I would truly get bored unless I had a lot of leisure activities planned out for my day.  Sitting around doing nothing appeals for a few days, then I get tired of it and want to go out and DO something.  For someone as slacker as I am, I really do like to work and I have a work ethic.  Sort of.  I guess me writing this at work kind of makes that a hypocritical statement, though. 

ticker-tape parade in my honor

I have this constant need to be validated, to be cheered on and complimented in everything.  I wonder how much of that is normal human behavior – because who doesn’t like a pat on the back sometimes? – and how much my own neuroses and insecurity.  I want to be applauded for tiny things, like how well I do my job or how clean I mopped the floor or that nice parking job I did.  I want people to notice when my hair looks cute, even if it’s through no fault of my own, or when I’ve lost 12 pounds that can’t really be seen (even by me).  I want to be the life of the party all the time.  I wouldn’t say no to parades in my honor.  But the thing of it is, in my head, largely I swing from thinking that I’m actually pretty fucking cool to how hard I suck and why do I even bother. 

 For so many years I was all “oh, I skipped a grade, la-di-da” and that impressed people.  But now I’m realizing that skipping kindergarten doesn’t really change that much once you’re 28.  If I was so smart, I wouldn’t be working in a warehouse opening boxes and entering repair orders.  I wouldn’t be 28 and still struggling through my bachelor’s degree.  It’s like this sudden realization – what happened 23 years ago is no longer anything that matters.  Now I’m a grown-up and my high school graduation year isn’t something anyone cares about, it’s not something that brands me as different or that matters at all.  My SAT scores (which were admittedly mediocre) don’t matter, either.  More and more it seems like it’s really just about perseverance, about applying yourself…”Melanie is smart but does not apply herself” “Melanie is a joy to have in class but hasn’t done her homework in 6 months”  “Melanie would be great if she showed up on time sometimes”… no matter how smart you are, without trying harder and doing more, you’re not shit.  Now I’m just some semi-smart chick reading pink books in my free time, working in a warehouse.  I’m no longer something special, someone people are impressed by.   I’m just me.  How many times do I have to mull that idea over before I can accept that and move on?

Things about my new house

1. When we moved in, the weather went like this: rain, sun, rain, sleet, snow, heavy snow, rain, sun. All within a few hours.

2. The floor isn’t really wood, but it looks like wood, and it makes me feel unbelievably happy and cozy.  I grew up with wood floors.

3. The driveway is a muddy lake, but there is a big yard and I have great big garden plans rolling around in my head, unformed but ready to take root.

4. The internet connection is slow – it is wireless and the signal is bad.  But that’s no excuse for the not posting, especially when I had planned to do the March NaBloPoMo as a form of slow torture for myself.  Life just sort of has gotten in the way of words.  I have so much I want to say and tell you and all of it is such a jumble in my head.