The Day My Identity Kind of Got Stolen

Monday, Monday. I woke up this morning around 3am and my mind was a flutter. This happens to me every once in a while. I wake up in the middle of the night and begin perseverating on something absolutely ridiculous. Last night all I could think of was karaoke, and it kept me awake for hours.

It would be about three and a half hours before I'd fall asleep again. Three and a half hours spent thinking about karaoke? Are you serious? I'd say I probably thought about karaoke for an hour, the other two and half were spent thinking about why I had thought about karaoke for a solid hour, in the middle of the night at the beginning of the week.

And the thirst. Oh the thirst was unbearable last night. I got out of bed to pour myself three tall, beautiful and delicious glasses of pure Brita happiness into my good night cup. Sure, it felt great going down, but the getting up every hour to get more water only aggravated my sleepless condition even more. I also have this belief, which may be pure wives tale, that if you rub the sand from your eyes you rub the sleepies away. I rubbed the sleep away several times last night, and I know it kept me up.

Regardless, all I could think of was how much I wanted a karaoke machine. My life would be complete, if only I had a karaoke machine, and/or if I could just fall asleep and stop thinking about karaoke.  I tossed and turned, anxiety riddled and worried that I'd never fall asleep again, or own a karaoke machine.  There is nothing worse than not being able to fall asleep when you know that you need too. I had passed out so easily only a couple of hours before. My bed is really comfortable, my sheets very soft and my fans very loud and blustery, just as I like it. And yet sleep would not come for me. And what amazes me most about this scenario and the way it plays out every time is that I refuse against my better judgment to just get out of bed for a little while and try and do something else. Instead, I just lay there, listening to my heart beat and thinking the same whacked out thoughts over and over again. How will I ever afford a karaoke machine? If I owned a karaoke machine I'd make sure that I had all of the Dolly Parton discs I could find. If I had a karaoke machine, I'd probably have more friends.  Over and over and over again.

So I get out of bed at a quarter of 8, completely out of sorts and hop in the shower. I basically feel drunk and completely disoriented. I do my best to pull myself together but find myself getting back into bed after taking a shower. A quick 20 minute nap, that will do it.

So of course a quick 20 minute nap does absolutely nothing for me. I continue getting ready and decide that I will treat myself to some kind of breakfast that I don't prepare myself. I had no idea what this would be, but I knew that I would be leaving the house a little early to make sure I could find something.  I decide to check my Bank of America balance online before heading out of the house.

Um, HEELLLLOOOOOOO YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN OVER DRAWN BY $2800.00!!!!!!!!

What? How the fuck did this happen? Did I order a really expensive and awesome karaoke machine in my sleep last night? Oh wait, impossible, because I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT.

Obviously I begin to panic, I break out into a sweat, I start shaking, hyperventilating, assuming the most ridiculous things about how my account could have been so overdrawn. This was not what I needed this morning. What I thought I needed was a Kombucha drink from Whole Foods on my way to work. No, instead, I got the surprise of my life, and the threat of a stolen identity.

Who would want to steal my identity?  Did I annoy Adam to the point that this morning he said 'fuck it' and stole my check book, wrote himself a check for three grand and headed for the border? Damn it Adam! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!   I know that this is ridiculous, it only crossed my mind for about a fraction of a second, but it still crossed my mind. I don't even take my check book out of the house with me, so I knew that I hadn't lost it. Would my parents have stolen my check book when they were here this past weekend? Damn it parents! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!

So I call the bank and I'm basically hysterically crying, a tactic that I knew would get me all of my money back even if I was totally at fault for whatever had happened (seriously, when I fell asleep for an hour, did I get on my computer and order a karaoke machine?). The woman is very nice and helpful, and we're working to get this all straightened out, when I decide to click on the transaction and look further into this mess. The $3000 was taken out via check. I clicked on the check image...it was a check written out by me to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for the taxes I owed, $141.

How the hell do you process a check for $141 for $3000? Seriously Commonwealth, what is going on here? Its not like $30.00 turned into $3000 because some schmo forgot to put in a decimal point, 141 and 3000 look nothing alike. They don't even kind of share any of the same numerals. The woman at BOA explained that the check was processed wrong, um....duh? What the fuck?  I just spent the last 30 minutes accusing all of my loved ones of stealing money from me and accusing myself of shopping in my sleep for expensive karaoke machine equipment? Not the best way to start a Monday, or a week for that matter.

So thanks Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Because it wasn't sucky enough sending you a check for $141, you had to scare the shit out of me by making me think that my entire life and identity was at the disposal of some unknown looney toon with my checkbook. What is scariest is that I assumed that looney toon to be myself. The upside...it did wake me up.

Sweet Relief

Some days are better than others. Today was a great day, for instance.

  On May 26th of last year I had the rug yanked from underneath me by a former employer.  I had lost my job quite literally all of the sudden and had no idea what to do next.  For the first three hours I panicked. I was brought back down by my friends and quickly settled into the idea of not having a job but earning unemployment benefits all summer while essentially doing whatever the fuck I wanted within my means. Sure my means weren't great, but that doesn't matter when in the summer all that matters is sunshine, gardening, and drinking PBR. Life was good for a couple of months. Unpredictable and for the most part monetarily poor, but hell, it was a beautiful summer.

 But like a said, a couple of months is small when in comparison I ended up being unemployed for 7 months. And it would have gone on much longer, because I was basically unemployable.


 On paper, I looked like hell. On my resume I listed house painting for ten years, for a man who is clearly my father. I did decorative painting for one year, and in between all that is a slew of lame and unimpressive low skill jobs.  I had nothing to go on, and quite honestly, besides not wanting to be a house painter, no house painting contractor (who is a man) would in their right mind hire me. And I don't blame them. Women are a pain in the ass to have on a job site. And its not because we're not awesome, its because other men on job sites are retarded. I've explained this in previous posts, so I don't think I need to go into details. My old boss hired me because he had mental issues and needed to have someone to dominate because he was a pathetic dude, which I guess in his small mind meant having a woman around. Yep. Said it.  I say this not because I think woman are easy to dominate (cause we're not, and he learned that, which is probably why I got let go), but because he had a pattern of mostly hiring women, and when he did hire men, he had a very obvious boundary when it came to anyone else showing him up in even the smallest way. Men didn't last long with him.
 Anyway, I spent a long time trying to find a job. I applied to multiple places where my paint resume was completely not applicable, but I wrote very thoughtful cover letters that I thought conveyed my interest in what ever thing I was applying for in a meaningful way. 'fraid not my friends, cause I basically never landed interviews.
  And then a miracle happened, and it all started at jewelry night at a friends house. I won't bore you with the details, but it was as serendipitous as it gets. That ring led to a series of events that I never predicted. I wear that ring with intense pride, it's what I consider to be the catalyst that began my ascent towards employment-hood.

 So here I am, nearly 3 months later. Today I was finally offered the permanent position of Office Coordinator in the office that I have been temping at.  I work in a position that I would have never imagined having, in a place that I never thought I would be. And it sounds silly, because 'office coordinator' admittedly does not sound that awesome. And it especially does not sound that awesome for some one like me, an artist. But you know what? This job rocks! Guess what! Time for a list! I love lists!

5 reasons why working in an office is like totally the coolest.

#1. Regulated climate
  This is so key. And I never really knew it was something that I cared a lot about until I worked in an office. I'm used to either being way way way too cold or inordinately warm in all my work experiences. Last summer I worked for my dad for a little while in the duration of unemployment (I know thats terribly illegal, but he's my pops! I don't think that counts!), and it was so motherfucking hot out there, in that crazy ass June on Long Island heat. I was like melting into puddles of already melted humans, it was so gross. And the spiders, Oh the spiders! It was so unfair. Bugs everywhere. Pants sticking to thighs. Unrelenting humidity. It was like working in a jungle. Do you have any idea what it is like to work with oil primer when it is 90 degrees and the air is literally sopping wet? Its the biggest bullshit joke upon bullshit that bullshit has ever considered pulling a joke on. Awful.
  And I did finally break. I threw a hissy fit and decided I was going home far earlier in the afternoon than any one would have been allowed to go home, like three days in a row. What was he going to do? Fire me? I think I lasted a total of 4 days.  When I was younger, I was totally able to hang in there. Now? Nah.
  But in an office, its always roughly 70 degrees. Sometimes warmer, sometimes colder. But you know whats great? Cozy sweaters and light cardigans that are easy and manageable to take on a off, which leads me to my next point...

#2. Dresses are work appropriate.
   I have never ever ever in my entire life gone to work in a dress prior to this job, and I am not in any way exaggerating. Going to work in a dress is like going to work in pajamas, as far as I am concerned. It is so comfortable, non constricting and happy fun times that I can't even believe it is allowed.  You get to  talk to the other ladies about how nice their dresses are, and sometimes we all find each others prodding upon where said particularly awesome dress was bought. We all then divulge that we are going to leave work that day and immediately go and buy that dress, because it is so awesome. Some of us even try to consider ways to get out of work early so that they can go and buy that dress. Nothing is better than having your coworker say 'I like your dress.' Its like 'duh'. This shit is bananas.
  I come from a place where if I wore a dress to work, for one I'd get sent home to change. And two, I'd get sexually harassed and or assaulted. For sure.

#3. Comfy ass desk chair.
  This is both problematic and awesomematic. Problematic in that my ass is most certainly going to get larger. Awesomematic in that my feet don't kill at the end of the day and I get the comfort of sitting down. I don't think I ever clocked in any significant amount of time in my last job on a chair. And you know what? Sometimes sitting down in AWESOME.

#4. Lunch
  Lunch at my last job was great for only a short while and other wise sucked. For a small window I worked with a couple of great guys, and the best part of the day was sitting down and eating an awesome lunch. I even had one of those great guys on the vegan lunch bus for almost the entire duration of our working together. Those were the days. And then lunch turned into me trying to avoid spending time with a certain so and so, and never eating much at work. Truth is I couldn't really afford to eat lunch anyway.
  But now, lunch rocks. Like I've written about, I've had the comfort, affordability and straight up acceptance at work to not feel like a fuckin' freak for taking on a raw diet. And I even have people to indulge in it with.

     This is what happened when we decided to do smoothie Friday right after me and my coworker decided to take on the raw diet. In that back right corner is a Blendtec Blender. Probably the most awesome blender this world has ever known. The next Friday someone brought in juicer. It was as ridiculous and as awesome as it sounds.

  Simply, I would have never had anything like this happen at my previous job. When I was vegan, I could barely even tell people that I was for fear that I would literally get torn apart and questioned about everything I chose to eat. It was very annoying, kind of embarrassing and quite honestly extremely tiring and for the most part made me not want to eat at work. While I am admittedly no longer a vegan, I do still eat like one almost all of the time, and its just nice to be embraced and not made to feel like a freak for choosing to eat and be what I'm comfortable with. Which leads to my final point...

#5. I work with incredible people.  If I didn't get this job, I wouldn't be as sad and all shook up because I missed the opportunity of being an office manager at a cool company... I'd be upset for the loss of no longer being with the awesome people that I've had the opportunity of working along side of for the past three months. There is definitely something to be said about a good group dynamic at work. It's as important as the work that is happening individually when it comes to a group of collaborators.   When I first got the 'temp' position, I told my boss and director in my interview that I was willing to try it because 'In working with a dozen of really smart people, I have nothing to lose and only everything to gain." And it is the truth.  I might get yelled at by crazy ass people on the phone all day long(seriously, all day long) and have headache projects and a lot thrown on my plate at any given time, but I really do enjoy my job and I get to learn a lot along the way. I feel like this is my 'gimme' from the universe. The past ten months have been a long and unpredictable road.  It's nice to have at least a couple of ducks in a row for once.

Ultimately what I've learned from this is that sometimes you just have to accept something as a really good thing, even if you're not entirely sure what for yet. I finally feel for the first time in a long time that I have a grasp on life. And it just feels right.

So all in all, very happy. And I'm finally no longer stressed the hell out.

This is dedicated to all my peoples in the office. Thanks for keeping me!

Fancy Beer

I'm a classy lady. So classy in fact that I drink beer out of wine glasses.

  First of all, I'm very proud to say that my computer has officially moved back into my studio and out of the kitchen, where it has lived on the table for about the last two months.  This means that I might actually start getting work done again. I'll take it easy on myself about the fact that I have virtually painted nothing in the past two months due to having a new job, and also the fact that it's been winter and crummy and I haven't felt inspired, and I haven't had money to buy new materials, and...what else is a good excuse, oh its been really really cold in my studio room. I hate being cold. I can't paint in the cold.  So watch out people, because my art work is going to begin creeping its way onto the blog, as it should. 

  But back to the beer in the wine glass. 

   So I've been nearly three weeks strong on the mostly raw diet I set out to under take. My coworker and I have been excellent supports for one another, if I do say so myself, virtually feeding one another avocado, practically licking raw almond butter off of one another's hands and gushing over our newest dressing creations and incidental nut cheeses.  And we are feeling good and being all sorts of dorky about the fact that we are like so much better than everyone else because we have the will power to do a raw diet when most people can't. Shit did I type that out loud?

   I've been a juicing machine, I now own a dehydrator, I'm making nut milk, sprouting shit, eating salad like a mother fucker, kicked coffee and soda to the curb, and I am generally feeling quite pleased with myself.  But you know what I just can't shake? Drinky drinks. 

  I love alcoholic beverages. I hate to say it. I know I sound like such an alcoholic, sitting here, drinking beer out of a wine glass, exclaiming my love for alcohol, but DAMMIT. I just love it so. I don't even think I necessarily love getting drunk as much as I do just kicking back at the end of the night with a delicious chilled bev in hand. Something to sort of dull the headaches of the day. As soon as I poured that beer into my wine glass tonight, it was like a fun and spontaneous party had emerged within me. I felt delighted, inspired, calmed and soothed.  You're probably wondering why I really put it into a wine glass. That bottle of Stella Artois would have been sucked down so hard and so quickly in a bottled form that I wouldn't have even enjoyed it. And while a pint glass is appropriate, a wine glass is just more interesting to drink from. And I didn't have any wine.  

  The fact is that it was my full intent to not drink a drop of the stuff all week. I say this every Sunday night, as I sip on my last beer/glass of wine and say "See you Friday, friend." And I usually crash out by about 7pm on Monday. I made it all the way to Wednesday this week! This is nothing short of a miracle! A cause for celebrating in fact! Whats a celebration without imbibing? Water doesn't count!

  And what's more is the fact that Adam received a whopping 75 beers from his Aunt last week. Seventy five beers. Thats a lot of fuckin beer.  She had a surplus sitting in her spare fridge and needed to get rid of it, who better to give it to than the man that went dressed for Halloween as the most believable Bud Man the world has ever seen? Seriously, for a night, I was dating Bud Man. And it was totally ridiculous. 

  There he is in his natural habitat, 18 rack of bud in hand.  The best part is that the lady at the cash register did not even bat an eye lash at this absurdity. I, Dolly Parton, and my boyfriend, Bud Man. And we got no response. She was stone cold. 

  But I digress. Our fridge is one part beer, one part raw vegetables. A bit of a conundrum you see. The raw diet, and juicing specifically, asks a lot of fridge when it comes to space. Even before the beer, the fridge was basically over flowing with vegetation. You'd open the door and shit would literally topple out of the fridge. Now imagine this with 75 beers added to the mix.  It's quite possibly the greatest example of the divergence of our interests in health between my boy friend and I, he with his collection of beer, and I with my collection of vegetables. We're quite the pair, and we are currently making for quite the fridge. 

  So here I am, feeling NOTHING SHORT OF FORCED to drink beer on a Wednesday night. Out of wine glasses no less. Just so I can fit my precious vegetables into the fridge. What is a girl to do?