Thnkng...
I'm almost there.
Hearng...
Lots of compliments from potential employers, which is comfortng, and from friends, which is even better. I've started to make wiser choices, at least n that area of my life.
Seeng...
Wngspan, Mom's still catchng up on all the stuff I recorded when she was gone.
Wantng...
To settle down this time. For people to stop askng me why I'm not seeng someone. It's never been a normal state of affairs for me, one would thnk people would figure that out by now. I don't want to limit myself for a man (I don't know if a women would also expect me to) and that seems to be what far too many want. When someone wants me for me, hey, I'll all for it. In the meantime, there's Ol' Righty.
Eatng...
I can't remember if I ate after the hot dog I had for lunch. I thnk I forgot n all the madness. Everythng takes longer than planned.
Readng...
Old letters, notecards and post it notes with bits and pieces I wrote. On one Post-It I scrawled "On my knees for 12 cents" and that's all I need to remember how awful it was to work for an executive more hyper than my 11 year old brother.
Surfng...
Not much at all, because of all the movng. Network Solutions...and tryng to prove I am, ndeed, Erica Jackson. Unfortunately, I don't have access to the email address they have on file, it was deleted a few weeks after I registered my doman. Luckily, despite my pack rat ways, I found the orignal nvoices from my domans and a phone bill from that same address. That's what they asked for, so that's what I faxed them. I just wish I had done it sooner, I would've saved money on hostng this month. Also, I had another idea for a site (I know, another site is just what I need) and the doman is available!
Dreamng...
Of Manhattan...though I'll be wakng up n Brooklyn.
Exorcisng...
"Band on the run. Baaaaaaaaand on the ru-un!" Crap, it's not even one of my favorites.
Eschewng...
Not much is botherng me at the moment, except the thngs that really should.
Diggng...
Dorothy, she's the biggest help to me and she need not be, but I'm eternally thankful.
Hopng...
I can squeeze n the last load of laundry, some underwear and a half dozen large cans of soup nto my suitcases. I was runnng out of money and, apparently afraid of the high soup prices n the five boroughs of New York City.
Avoidng...
Takng down my computer...Packng the shelf of my 10 foot closet, repackng some boxes n the garage to condense a bit more, repackng my suitcases. Yes, I know -- I'm a lazy sod. In the end, the most important stuff always gets done, I do my best work on a tight deadlne.
Fearng...
I have lost all my email agan. I managed to archive it and back it up a month or two ago, but last night it tweaked on me and now Outlook can't seem to fnd the archive. So much for leavng this computer here for mom. No, seriously...Flyng. I never did as a kid, but now it tends to freak me out. Plus, breathng the recycled air is no good for you at all. The change n air pressure always makes me gassy as a farm animal. The first time I flew to SF to check thngs out, I could not control my belchng. I normally don't burp much at all, unless I drnk somethng carbonated, which is relatively rare for me.
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 packng like a maniac. No, I don't know why I do this to myself every sngle time I move. Indeed, this time I started several weeks ago. That's unheard of n Ericaland. I have more stuff here, though, because I also must deal with all my old stuff -- Duran Duran posters, yearbooks and the few toys I saved. I don't care much what happens to the Cabbage Patch kids, because they were really my mother's thng, but I don't want to give up my scrapbooks and memorabilia. I always fantasized that some day I would have a mansion and each room would have a theme: Michael Jackson, Duran Duran, Orson Welles -- the early themes were always people I admired. Influenced by Michael Jackson, I added to the list a theater. Now I'd add a room for my scrapbooks with some of my better photographs framed on the wall. But not just "ponty thngs" as John noticed a very phallic pattern across all of the photos I gave to him recently. We live n a society that says consume, consume, consume, so I do. But I don't thnk of as many thngs as disposable as I suppose I should. I filled up my carryon suitcase with mostly my own journals (little over a dozen, just snce 1995 or '96 when it occured to me that I had privacy and could start keepng a journal. I'm really sorry I didn't keep one durng the Dramarama years. There were some good stories there. I want to take the journals with me, but I thnk I'm gong to repack that one with thngs I really need immediately n New York. Like, you know, suits, pantyhose and dress shirts. I've also filled up a backpack and two very large suitcases. I'm not some prncess with the big steamer trunks and everythng (though wouldn't those be great, like Big Mary had n The Women so that they're wardrobes when you open them and everythng is n its place right off?) -- I normally travel with just a backpack and one of those small, ubiquitous, rollng, black suitcases that fit nicely n the overhead bn. I almost never check luggage because my aunts was lost when she moved to California to go to college. I never forgot that. We had to take her out to buy new clothes. If I must check a suitcase then the carry on always has at least one extra change of clothes and perhaps a couple of shirts and underwear. In this case, the suits are an unusual bulk for me, because normally when I travel I only need a dress, second pair of shoes, some undies, a second pair of pants and a few shirts. I travelled across country with only the rollng suitcase and backpack, it's more than enough. You'd never guess I was this anal-retentive if you saw my room or desk. I couldn't seem to motivate myself to pack boxes the past few days. I couldn't drag myself to the hardware store to fnd the tool I needed to fix the suitcases, the name of which I did not know. Luckily, when I sent for the second replacement lock (my brother changed the combnations and promptly forgot when they came for the funeral), they sent some extra screws, so I was able to take those n and fnd out what knd of screw it was. The luggage company had told me it was just a Phillips, but it wasn't. It wasn't shaped quite the same as an Allen wrench, either, quite the nverse, n fac. It looked like a star of David. But there are no Jews outside of Los Angeles, so that was no help. Yesterday I fnally went to the monstrous store of manly supplies and found a Torx screwdriver, so I was thrilled. I tried it n the screw, but it was too big. Luckily, they had the next smallest size. Unfortunately, Samsonite had sent me the screws that go nto the handle, which are larger than those for the combnation lock. Today we went back to exchange for a smaller size, but they only had the two sizes I already saw loose. I had to buy a screwdriver with 10 nterchangeable heads n order to get the size 10 torx. You know, I was tryng to save myself from buyng an extra suitcase, because I only need it for takng stuff over, I don't travel with that much stuff, as I said. I buy too much, but I also try to avoid buyng and can be downright cheap about certan thngs. One of my neighbors probably had some Torx, but his wife said his tools were n such a state, she wouldn't know where to look. I guess I could've just left the broken locks on, but gimme that small shred of faux security the paltry, plastic combnation locks provide, please! So the suitcases turned nto this major saga and, though I added another shoppng bag and a half to the donate pile and packed a bunch of clothes, towels and sheets (short term I only need one of everythng) nto a box nstead of the suitcases, both the big bags were soon stuffed to capacity and a small pile remaned. It's not much, really, and I'm delighted my briefcase fit, but now I have stuff I don't know what to do with. I've been donatng so many old clothes and stuff that I thought I was gong to do well this move, but it's always more than you thnk and I have a pretty good eye for how many boxes it will take. Slap me, though, because I could've packed up the stuff n the garage weeks ago and started my desk stuff long before Wednesday night. I was up until 5 and then useless for most of the next day. In part, I was n shock and just stared at the wall most of Thursday, due to some horribly bad news. I'd rather not go nto specifics for the privacy of those more closely nvolved, but it just smacked me down hard. Lazy is one thng, but I was n a fog for two days, only comng out of it Friday afternoon. Although tempted to stay for a bit longer, even the friend nvolved says, "Don't you dare miss any nterviews," except maybe an agency or two. Worse comes to worse, I'd skip Monday, which is all agencies, but I thought it would be a good warm up, snce I haven't had an nterview n 5 months. Of course, I do not mean this entry as a lament of all the thngs I have to do, because hey, I am dong what it takes to make my dreams come true. I'm not askng for pity or tryng to make a big deal. This is just about the process of gettng thngs done, even if that process can be frustratng n its circuitousness. So I'm a little that sad I'll probably need to leave my journals behnd. If I take out some of the books and blank journals (Dorothy, perfect supportive friend that she is, gives me gorgeous journals faster than I can fill 'em) out and ship them later, I can probably fit the rest of my clothes and such nto the carry-on and, imagne this, have room to take some of the load off my poor backpack, not to mention my poor back. In a perfect, organized world, I'd really like to take my little CD boombox, it's only the size of your head after all, because it would be fab to have music right off, but I'm pushng the luggage restrictions as it is. I guess I can ship it n one of the early boxes. Looks like there will be 6 to ship withn a month -- computer, possibly prnter, kitchen stuff, clothes, software and alter. I just want to mnimize the nitial shippng, n case thngs don't work out for whatever reason. Besides, I should save my cash until I know I'll have an ncome. Or, more importantly and optimistically, when. Fang says not to worry, I'll have a job n two days. Last time it only took a week and the response has been good. I'm hearng thngs like "your resume looks terrific!" (which, oddly, remnds me of "Gee, your hair smells terrific!") and "I'm very excited to meet you" and "you're by far the lead candidate." There have been a few quibbles about my salary requirements and the fact that I haven't worked n a year, but they've been n the mnority. Besides, as one nterviewer put it when I said I hadn't done much durng the last year, I've created web sites and taken 5 software classes, which should, if anythng, make me a stronger candidate. I thnk it'll be two weeks on the outside and I'll be ganfully employed for the first time n 63 weeks. I'm so glad I had the time off, but I'm lookng forward to havng money, ndependence and beng back home. This is quite a change from the deafenng silence I have had n applyng for jobs here n The Empire. In all the packng, you fnd stuff you've forgotten, especially if you're not prone to puttng thngs n the "right" place, as I am not. I found perhaps a half dozen rejection or "don't call us, we'll call you" letters from jobs I applied for n this area. I applied for about 30 jobs at the University alone, but only received two phone calls that didn't lead to nterviews and two rejection letters. Pathetic, and quite rude of them, I must say. I tried SF as well, but the place is n a weird funk just now with the dot comedy and the electricity crisis. Fang says her electric bill has tripled and its gong up even higher, though she only uses the TV and computer sparngly, has unplugged every appliance, doesn't turn on the heat, and relies on candles for light. It's just too big a mess there, by all my friends' reports, as much as they'd like to have me there. In watchng the third nstallment of Tales of the City last night, I had a twnge of homesickness. The mnute I started sendng resumes to New York, I had responses. Prior to that I was afraid somethng was seriously wrong with me and that I'd never get another job and not n the "hey, I'm a best-sellng author, so fuck The Man" knda way. Part of me is still scared that, if I can't fnd a job n the Empire, why on earth would I risk everythng by gong to the most expensive city n the country to fnd work? Yet, somethng clicks with New York, always has...so the responses come. My last lngerng doubt was that I only heard from agencies for months and months. I was afraid there weren't really any jobs, that the agencies were just tryng to add new temps to their pools. Fnally, last week and toward the end of the week before that, I started to hear from direct employers. Timng's everythng, too, because most people want to set up nterviews the next day (mostly agencies) or withn a week. I've said I was gong to move as far back as May 10, but only after puttng thngs off until the 15th, then the 28th, then fnally confirmng a ticket for the 31st, changng it to June 2nd and fnally June 3rd, I started to get appontments right n time for the date I'll be there. Which is this time tomorrow. Even with all the delays, I will only have to miss one of my Monday nterviews. It's an agency, so I can reschedule it for whenever. Actually, this time tomorrow, I'll be almost ready to wake up n New York -- the payoff for all the packng and purgng. I just need to carve out my own little niche n the urban jungle. I don't need the best or most expensive, but I'm at the age I want to get my shit together, pay thngs off (credit cards, student loans), fnish thngs up (my degree) and, as soon as possible (considerng the expense of the place I love and the foolishness of my past fnancial endeavors), fnd a place I can make nto a home.
[Next entry: "all high-tech and shit"]
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