What I want is my life in NYC pre grad school, to be the girl that warranted two good-bye parties before she went off to grad school.For a girl who didn’t make any friends in college, that was pretty damn awesome. Between the two parties, I had about 60 people who wanted to give me a hug before I left for Chicago.

My time in New York City before graduate school was the best time of my life. I was 23. I realize I can never be 23 again. In the mirror, I am 5 years older, my face is totally broken out due to all the toxins in alcohol, and half my jeans don’t  fit.

While in grad school, I used to watch any version of Law and Order  (because, it was practically a guarentee that one would be on) and see recognized landmarks in NYC, and I’d get so homesick. To quote L&O SVU “It’s so quiet here. Sometimes I get so homesick for New York that I hum the Mr. Softee song.”

I actually listened to REM’s “Leaving New York” and Tom Petty’s “Square One” about a billion times that summer before I left for Chicago. The former still makes me tear up. Leaving New York was something I’d call my biggest mistake, but how can I call it a mistake when I got an MA at University-of-fucking-Chicago, right? Still…I question.

But then I did go back to NYC after grad school and it was not the same in a million different ways

This is why I cannot go back to The-Job-That-Was, even though I’m in tears about how much I miss being Home.

When I moved back to NYC after grad school it was a disaster. Going back to The-Job-That-Was would probably feel similar.

And so on a day when I just can’t pull a job application together

I know that turning down the job was the right thing to do.

But I’m having a bad day and part of me is like “WTF was I thinking?” I should have taken the job that as offered to me, knowing I’d have basically the best co-workers and bosses in the universe.

It’s more of, I never should have left in September. If I’d just stayed on, just 6 or so more months, just been patient.I’d have found something in DC that was right instead of just taking the first thing that was offered. I’d have been safely ensconced in that job and that home.  God damnit. But you can’t go home again. And so I’m here. For better or worse.

But it’s a Saturday, and I’m trying to put together a god damned job application, and I just cried my eyes out over a god damned song that reminds me how happy I was in my stupid job in Jersey.

And for the record, I am sick of being asked if I am “over educated” for the job described. I am NOT over educated. I am educated in a completely unrelated discipline. So take a chance on a girl who has changed her mind on ‘what do you want to do with your life’ about 1000 times because I will kick ass and take names on your behalf. I am AWESOME.

Please just trust me. Please.

Last February, when it turned out my replacement was not working out and they hired someone else, I called my Ex-Boss and joked “How was I NOT your first call?”

So, this time, he called me first. This was Monday night. So I said I’d give very serious consideration to coming back. But, I did have a job interview on Tuesday and moving back to Jersey would be quite the logistical nightmare.

It’s one of the harder decisions I’ve had to make. I’ve said it a million times, The-Job-That-Was changed — and saved — my life. After the horrible Job-That-Wasn’t, after that awful 2008 summer, the Job-That-Was was one the first thing I felt good about in a long time. It gave me this confidence I didn’t know I could possess, from the most mundane tasks like putting together binders to the important, like helping to figure out this nightmare billing thing with an outside counsel firm. My Ex-Boss and I hit it off right away, and with my Ex-Coworkers, once I got over the fact that they were actually being nice and not out to screw with my head (which was a huge problem at The-Job-That-Wasn’t) we got along great too.

I know I view The-Job-That-Was through rose-colored glasses, and there were things I was unhappy with there. And I know I certainly didn’t like feeling trapped in Jersey, feeling like a loser because I was living with my parents, feeling stuck, like I couldn’t move on or do anything because I didn’t want to over-establish a life in Jersey.

The-Job-That-Was was a very good place for exactly two years of my life. I was trusted and treated very well. My Ex Boss knows I’m a recovering alcoholic and a head case, so this job offer was huge. Whenever I talk to my Ex-Coworkers around quarterly meeting times they tell me they miss me. Good for the ego, which given my current level of self-hate probably needs a boost.

And I gave it a LOT of thought. But ultimately, taking this job back was not the right decision for me. I am JUST finally beginning to establish a life for myself in DC. Everyday is still a struggle, but that’s what medication, therapy, and SMART/We Agnostics are for.

I am determined to make things work here. And history has shown that when I’m determined to do something, I go after it full force. That’s how I got to NYC and that’s how I got to DC. Things are kind of un-pretty right now but I think I can make them better. I will exhaust every avenue of hope before I give up on this DC project.

So I turned the Job-That-Was down. Which, believe me, is the last decision I ever imagined making.

So, last Friday, my most favorite ex-coworker pulled me into the office she’d claimed for herself and told me to spill it.

“Sweetie, you’re shaking. And you look terrible. I’ve never seen you like this. Not when things were the worst here and not even when you first started and you were afraid of me.”

I sank down in the visitor’s chair and whispered a few things that were going on with me. She gave some feedback. She scolded. “Maybe DC is just not right for you?” she asked.

“Maybe.” Maybe. Maybe this move was a mistake. Maybe. I live under a flight path in DC, did I ever mention that? From my bedroom window, I can see the flights lining up to land. I don’t know why I find romanticism in this, but I do.

I’m the baby of the group of former co-workers. Intentional or not, they looked out for me, and still do. How did I get so lucky? The-Job-That-Was remains one of the best things that ever happened to me. When I say that job saved my life I’m not exaggerating. It gave me purpose, and it gave me confidence. I didn’t know I was so capable until my first week there my boss handed me a random spreadsheet, and unknown to me, expected just an easy Excel formula. I, thinking something much more complex was required, fussed around with it and figured out a way to automatically get updates on currency conversions. And then after that there was this big project with an outside law firm and I kicked ass, took names, and that’s why my status changed from temp to perm. My current job has not afforded me the opportunities to show I’m awesome. So. Shrug.

One week later, I’m out with current co-workers, and it’s practically a waste of my time. Oh, and also, Cute-IT-Boy is gay, head meet desk. Normally, my gaydar is quite good, but apparently when a Libertarian is involved it malfunctions. See also, extremely-cute-but-also-gay-libertarian boy from UChicago. Friday was a total failure. This guy referenced Milton Friedman! I totally swooned. Yes, it is probably fucked up that that is what gets me to swoon, but there it is. Arg. I had figured that he was gay because he is way to well dressed to not be, but he wasn’t pinging my gaydar. Not. Fair.

It’s around 6:40am. There is still the hum of airplanes overhead, and now there are stupid birds starting to chirp.

I miss New Jersey and my old job. I don’t want to go home, I want to stick it out here. But I don’t know if I can. I am so freaking emo.

These past two days have been very, very long. Not bad, but draining. Interviewing people for your own job is a bizarre thing.

Going over “transition” things at work. My boss accusing me of being “mopey” (I am) and me getting far more emotional than one should be in the workplace (“I’m really sad I’m not going to be working for you anymore,”  I said. “Me too,” was the reply). At least I haven’t cried. (Yet. I was close today)

Hearing my co-workers and bosses say the nicest things about me. Having this attorney from one of our outside firms call ME directly to wish me luck, ask for my contact info, and tell me that if I ever need a job, to call her.

Discussing the interviewees, and at least a dozen times, teased “Or, you know, you could stay” (My boss has only offered that one time. Ok, maybe ten). A battle not to confuse nostalgia with doubt (“One starts with “N”, one starts with “D” Did you already forget how to file?”) Freaking out a little, because I don’t know if I’ll be good at my new job, and it’s so comfortable here, and maybe I don’t want to leave.

A half a dozen projects landing in my lap, with the request to finish before I leave. My reaction, which is annoyance, followed by defiance (“what’s he going to do if I don’t finish it? Fire me?), and then resignation that of course I’m going to do it, because I’m me.

My favorite co-worker’s epiphany (“How did I not notice”).  And then later, “Yeah, how did you not notice?!?”

Wondering if I’ll get around to organizing the files in the top drawer. Forgetting to remind people of last minute things because there is so much on my mind, and not remembering until I’m at home tossing thoughts at the computer screen.

Already missing, and looking at it all with far too much nostalgia (it’s just a freaking job) because I am the most maudlin person on the planet. Sad, simply, because for all the lovely comments about how I’m irreplaceable (oh please. It’s just a job, than anyone could do) this is far more irreplaceable.

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/08/26/in-the-vaguest-of-terms/feed/ 2 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/08/24/oh-hello/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/08/24/oh-hello/#comments Tue, 24 Aug 2010 16:47:35 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=7309 A common theme in my blogging seems to be “I started a bunch of posts this week and didn’t finish any of them.” The topic and theme has been the same, but emotions have run gamut from angst to anxiety to excitement.

Anyway.

I don’t want to write about the mundane details of moving and preparing to move, and the stress that surrounds it. I already spend enough headspace on it.

For months I’ve been thinking that when I got to this place, I’d have so much to say. To the point where I even planned out what I was going to say. I had my Facebook status, annoucing this moment, picked out ages ago. There are songs I’ve been listening to for months, just waiting for them to be relevant. (Among them: Already Gone (Kelly Clarkson), Time of My Life (David Cook), I’m Movin’ On (Rascal Flatts), Better Things (Dar Williams). I am a planner, in perhaps the worst sense of the word.

And now, I have very little to say. I’m winding things down at work, and I have a proper amount of sadness about leaving, and I have thank you notes to write once I’m done for good. I’m trying not to confuse nostalgia with doubt.  My new job promises to be a step in the right direction, but I’m not particularly excited about it. It will be a job, and while I hate this phrase “it is what it is.” I can’t wait to move in with Keithers and decorate our apartment, but I hate the moving process possibly more than anything in the world.

What I keep repeating to myself is that this will all be okay in a month. If I can just make it through the next month without a breakdown, IT WILL BE OK. Of course, this “month” keeps getting extended, and by now, I should really say “If I can just make it through these next two weeks,” but I’ll split the difference and call it three. In three weeks, I will be in DC, will have been at my new job a week, and will, logistics willing, at least have a mattress.

Until then, I try to organize my desk, get instructions ready for whatever poor temp fills my place, and try not to have too many maudlin moments about how this job saved my life, and how I will miss the gratitude I associate with it.

I am currently sitting in the reception area of my office, waiting for the UPS guy to show up. I’m babysitting the stack of boxes, containing the Important Books for Important Quarterly Meeting, that can’t be left unattended.

I just realized I haven’t eaten anything today.  It was a fairly frentic day, and yesterday was busy too, and I have so much to do tomorrow, and I’m tired, and whine.

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/07/29/while-i-babysit-inanimate-objects/feed/ 1 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/07/09/how-to-save-a-life/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/07/09/how-to-save-a-life/#comments Fri, 09 Jul 2010 17:39:03 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=7001 I’ve been at my current job for almost two years, and there are still days when I think exactly like this. Even more than two years since being summarily dismissed from the Job-That-Wasn’t, I still, as I confessed earlier this week, have nightmares about it. I still have my moments when I forget that my bosses and co-workers are NOT like the people at the job-that-wasn’t. Earlier this week, I was on the verge of panicking, and was fully cognizant of the fact that there was no reason to panic, but for some reason my brain still anticipates the reaction I would have received at that awful place.

I know I’ve talked about it 1000 times in this space (but it’s my space, and I’ll repeat myself if I want to) but I still don’t know that I will be able to properly convey how much this job has truly been among the things that saved my life since I came back to Jersey in shame two years ago. July 17, 2008, actually. That was the date I knew I was coming back, and that I was coming back for awhile.  Six weeks later I was very lucky to start this job. This job made me feel capable of something again, even when it was just putting together a bunch of meeting materials. The lack of questions I was asked is why March 18, 2009 and everything after were not nearly as horrible as they could have been.

This job saved my life.

Joe’s been in California, apartment hunting, so I haven’t been harassing him with my usual rounds of cover letters and questions. He emailed last night to agree to feed my cat next week (even though the cat is a racist) and I can’t wait to tell him about My Plan. I would not even be capable of thinking about making this plan if it were not for Joe being my sounding board and support system. He said recently, that he never would have imagined the weird friendship we’ve developed, where we hang out and talk endlessly about careers and existential crises (mostly mine) and dating. I’m sure there’s a sector of the population who would call it fate that I ran into him one morning at the bus stop in O-town, almost three years ago now. That, and several other bus rides, is how he came to be the person who drove me to work the week I was stuck and who reads constant drafts of my schizo cover letters.

Joe has saved my life.

Joe is also the reason that Brent and I talk now, constantly exchange emails. We’ll never be the same as we used to, but we shouldn’t. He was still there at my one year in March, because he understood why it was such a big deal. They all did.

My old friends have saved my life.

I had actual work to do this morning; a change of pace, as summer here has been dead. Last summer, I exchanged countless emails and was distracted by dozens of gchats with people from Message-Board-of-Note. David, I hardly think of as being from there anymore, such a good friend he was to me when I really needed it. I still have the text message he sent me after that awful, awful seven days that started with the ride to Chicago and ended with my in the hospital: “You have yourself to get better for you jackass. What else would you need?”

David has saved my life.

The rest, some who I’ve met, some who I haven’t, made me feel as if I was part of something other than just my head. From these internet strangers, I’ve gotten career advice, CDs in the mail, and, with Ellie, countless hours of ridiculous conversation about Hugh Laurie, kittens, and petty-judgmental-thoughts. They made me laugh, they agreed that O-L-B was a jerk, they looked after me via text message, and once, at thirteen days, when I fretted how little time that was, Timothy replied “No, do you know how many HOURS that is? Right now, 13 days is awesome.”

The Message-Board-of-Note saved my life.

And then there’s me, who bemoaned the fact that 2010 is half over, and that I’ve gotten nowhere. That, on a Friday afternoon, I am sitting barefooted and cross-legged in front of my computer at the same job that saved my life, unmotivated to finished the three job applications that are 3/4^th done, and also, already ready to give up on dating because it isn’t that much fun, and the distraction it provides isn’t worth the opportunity cost. I am twenty seven years old, very much single, and still answering phones, among my many other responsibilities.

But I am 190 or so days into 2010, whereas two years ago, I didn’t even know 190 hours. I’m pretty pragmatic (some days, pessimistic), still filled with regrets for the could haves, would haves, and should haves, and still could afford to lose at least another five pounds.

But there are days that I hope. There are days that I am able imagine that I will one day have a life that is not this. I still can’t picture myself with someone else, and I can’t imagine a successful career, and really, there’s nothing tangible in my vision of My Plan. But there’s just this vague sense that I can do something else, and that one day, I will have a life again, that things will get better, because they already are. I am quite far away from the depths of Depression and darkness and utter stupidity that made my life a living hell for most of 2007 and 2008.

And I got myself here. I proved my worth and I got myself this job. And then, after many false starts, I rallied the troops and I finally got myself the help I needed, that came in ways I never expected it could. And that’s why, on an ordinary Friday afternoon, I’m sitting here writing this sappy, over the top, melodramatic entry, because I didn’t really realize what happened.

Because somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, I managed something I didn’t know I was attempting.

I saved my life.

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/07/09/how-to-save-a-life/feed/ 2 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/06/17/day-seventeen/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/06/17/day-seventeen/#comments Thu, 17 Jun 2010 16:45:22 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=6888 Noon always comes very quickly. I look at the clock and can’t believe how fast the morning has flown. This is usually canceled out by the drag of the afternoon though.

I think my hours of staring at the computer have given my eyestrain. Or maybe that’s my allergies.

Maybe things are picking up in the job market world. I don’t know if it’s a short lived burst of hiring but a lot of places in my area of interest seem to be hiring. Not for anything I’m qualified for, but it’s a good general sign, right? Or maybe I’m just desperate to find something to be optimistic about.

There is a minor disaster brewing at work, but I am surprisingly not getting worked up about it. My instinct is to swoop in and fix things, perform miracles, etc…but what’s the point? I’ve done that dozens of times now for no reward or personal benefit.  I certainly haven’t seen a raise or even a change in job title. And I know I’m not the only one experiencing this frustration. Not just at my company; it’s everywhere. I’ve seen some scattered articles (and I’m too lazy to find them) about how the “recession mindset” means companies expect more from their employees (because they need them to do the job of 3 people after layoffs) without reward (because they’re holding them hostage; there are no other jobs out there). In addition, they aren’t training their employees to promote because there’s nowhere to promote them to.

The recession can’t last forever, so I’m curious to see how this will affect overall workplace trends, etc.

I am talking to a boy on gchat. This is a sad state of affairs.

Moving on.

I’ve been thinking of submitting something to Drop of Ink, but of course I’m letting myself get overwhelmed by the subject matter. No matter what I write or submit on love or loss, it’s certainly not the first or final word on the subject. Yet when I’m writing something, or editing something that’s going to be read by others, I feel the need to make myself seem more profound then I really am. Or at least, write something epic.

The boys and I went to Trivia Night again on Thursday, and pulled off another win. There’s another team there that goes every single week, that told us they always win…except when we’re there.

Little Things From Trivia Night That Make Me Happy

1) The category was movies, and Brent says dismissively “Well, if it’s something from 1994-1997, then Rachel will know it.” (I protested that I also know a lot of movies from 2002-2004) And then when the question came up it was “In Speed, what speed can the bus not drop below.” (I have seen Speed approximately 19,000 times, AND it’s been on TV frequently lately, and Brent and I quote it constantly)

2) Arguing with the boys about what we’re Neil Armstrong’s first words when landing on the moon. (They went with “One” from the famous “One small step for man,” while I argued for “Houston” based on my many viewings of Apollo 13 where they view the moon landing in the opening scene, and you know LOGIC. I was right, they were wrong, but we only missed out on a point.

3) Girly questions on Tom Hanks movies and Dove

4) The final question being an obscure geography question (although with Sporcle games, I don’t think it was THAT hard). What US state capital has the smallest population?

We got it right, other team got it wrong, we won 2 Yankee tickets, which I let the boys have, and now they have to buy me something pretty.

I do not want to think about work this weekend, as I have still not sorted files, submitted expense reports, or a number of sundry tasks I should have done yesterday. The work will still be there on Tuesday, and I will, as usual get it done before noon. Knowing this, I should not let myself have an anxiety attack on Monday night.

The brownies are almost done. And then I have to go see if I can find a white polo shirt.

I’ve been unfocused and nervous and have all this anxiety that has no where to go. I tried channeling it into cover letters, but anxiety is the opposite of arrogance, so that was a lost cause.

Important Documents haven’t gotten to Important People (thanks UPS!), I haven’t started packing for the office move, (I’ve been ARCHIVING, there is a difference) and after a brief burst of attempted gym rattery, I’ve not been in a month. Now, it’s a popular notion that exercise is a good means to combat stress/anxiety. However, my anxiety is such that I can’t even stay still long enough to do a worthwhile amount of time on the treadmill. (Yes, I know I wouldn’t be “staying still” on the treadmill.  It’s the struggle to just do ONE task that’s driving me mad.)

This job is making me bitchy. I was just really impatient with  the UPS lady on the phone. There are so many piles and papers surrounding my desk that I don’t even know where to begin. I know the sooner I get done with these things the sooner I can have my sanity back, but it’s one of those paradox-like things and I just lost my train of though.

At this point, I should really just go home, but I’m paranoid about driving because my windshield was replaced and the guy was like “you have to wait an hour” (that was 90 minutes ago) and I don’t know what I think I’m achieving by waiting longer, especially since I’m going to go drive on Route 80 and risk getting my windshield re-smashed by another pesky rock.

I also like to write run on sentences.

And then I pull back, and there is STILL this reluctance to complain, because it’s not as bad as The-Job-That-Wasn’t. I was sort of relating this to a co-worker last week, that no matter how upset I get about things at work, it was so bad at The-Job-That-Wasn’t, that I really can’t let myself get too bereft. She likened it to an abusive relationship; (“at least this job doesn’t hit me!”) which is overstating the case quite a bit, but accurate in a black-humor way.

It’s not just the job that’s getting to me. My undergrad is having a 5 year reunion in June, and there’s a facebook group for it, and I stupidly looked through pictures people are posting and got depressed. I knew maybe one person in any of the pictures, but they’re all having typical collegiate fun and reminiscing and blah blah blah I-Had-A-Lousy-College-Experience. Some people are traumatized by their high school experiences and you just want to tell them to get over it. Some days, I’m still not over the fact that I missed out on the college experience. I don’t have friends from college, I don’t have pictures from college, I don’t have memories from college. It was 3.5 years I got through as quickly as I could. Most of the time I am over this, and have made my peace with it.

Occasionally, the resentment and anger at myself creeps up and then I just start thinking about how I wish I could have done it all differently, and how different my life could be right now (different how, I’m not sure) and really, it’s just messy self-pity that really shouldn’t be indulged.

Also, “Welcome to Whereever You Are” came up on iPod shuffle on my way to work and it made me teary. (“You’re caught between just who you are/and who you want to be”) Clearly the stress is getting to me.

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On one hand I am livid. How could she screw up like this? The form was VERY clear. Why was this error not caught? This is a fairly standard procedure as well; why does she not know what she’s doing? Why hasn’t she been trained?

On the other hand, I cringed, because it’s the sort of thing that I used to do at The-Job-That-Wasn’t. The girl is probably wondering what the big deal is – she’s three or four degrees removed from the situation, and she doesn’t really understand the ramifications of her careless actions. She probably doesn’t “get” the looks that her co-workers/supervisors are exchanging.  She’s undoubtably nodded along and at least pretended to understand the gravity of the situation when her supervisor explains why they have to make a big deal out of it.  Or maybe she does and she’s just as panicked.

Either way, I used to be her. I used to have my major errors picked out by someone else when it was already too late. I used to have the moments of panick and absolute helpelessness, knowing that I had screwed up and that someone else had to fix my mistake.

I really don’t know if this situation will work itself out. And of course, it’s not a matter or life or death. It’s just very expensive and a lot of work and time went into this, so for it fall apart over her little error is really annoying to say the very least.

And not to say I don’t ever make mistakes, because I absolutely do.

But I’m glad it wasn’t me today.

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/04/20/the-science-of-hindsight-will-make-you-cringe/feed/ 0 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/03/05/coffee-is-not-working/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/03/05/coffee-is-not-working/#comments Fri, 05 Mar 2010 17:42:28 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=6619 I am stupid tired. I haven’t been sleeping well this week. Even last night, when I was quite tired, I just could not get comfortable and was awake until 2-something.  I have been a bit moody this week. And yesterday, I resorted to theatrics in order to get my way with a Customer Support Person (tactic: wait until you get a male on the phone. Pretend to cry and talk about how this is for your boss, and you screwed it up and he’s going to be MAD and please, isn’t there a way we could…?).

It worked and I was pleased with myself and that was probably the only fun thing I did all day.

This weekend, there is the county meeting of the liberty-oriented political group. I have been looking forward to this, but right now I am so tired that I can’t even think about it.  I will definitely go and it will definitely good to get out and also be around smart, motivated people who are interested in working towards similiar ends. Oh, the meeting will be 95% male. I’ve joked before that one of the reasons I’m a libertarian is for the guys. I’m only half kidding. Maybe only even a quarter kidding. I mean, I was a libertarian first, and then I found out that almost the entire movement is male.

Evidence of my sleepiness: I opened a new browser window to do…something. In the seconds it took to open I forgot what I’d opened it for.  Oh yeah; bank balance! My bonus for the 2 half of 2009 was deposited. It’s a teeny-tiny bonus (and no raise, even though I am now doing the job of 3 people) but I suppose I should insert the requisite line about being grateful that there’s any bonus in this economy. Etc.

Now I’m trying to decide if I should make an extra car payment or funnel it towards the just opened “Moving Fund.” Emergency Fund is doing quite well and will be completely funded when I get my tax refund. But I am indecisive as to what to do next. I need a solid fund for moving (apartment deposit, first month/last month rent, sundry expenses) and a car fund (insurance hike, repairs) but I’m also wondering about opening a Roth IRA. I already have a 401(k) through work, that I contribute to and my employer matches.

This is really too much thought to give to such a small amount of money, but it is unexpected money (I didn’t think the company was giving bonuses this year) and so I am pondering. Six months ago this probably wouldn’t have struck me, but I’ve gotten really into reading Personal Finance blogs.

I can go home in about 4.5 hours. It took me way longer than it should have to calculate that I can go home in 4.5 hours. I need a nap.

I’m busy playing “hurry up and wait” with some things at work that are making me feel as if I don’t have it together and I’m not on top of things. I hate that. It is also causing me to be weirdly procrastinate-y with both stuff here and job applications stuff. Did I mention I’m tired and had nightmares about Jason Voorhees (of Friday the 13th fame) last night?

At least it’s Friday. I will try to restrain from whining/fretting about the laundry I have to do and the errands I must run and the gym I AM GOING TO GO TO DAMNIT (I have Milly now, as reinforcement). Of course, by informing you of that (alleged) restrain, I have in fact whined/fretted.

I want to see the movie Valentine’s Day, because it is supposed to be similar to Love, Actually. No one will see it with me, and I rarely go to the movie anyway, (In fact, the last thing I saw in the theaters was the Friday the 13th remake that came out last February – perhaps that’s why I have Jason Voorhees on the brain) but maybe I’ll just go by myself this weekend. Mm, movie popcorn with delicious artificial butter.

Speaking of movies, my Younger-Wiser-Sibling (who clearly has too much time on his hands. Oh to have the musicians lifestyle) started bombarding me with text messages/emails about the movie Armaggedon. Yes, the Bruce Willis movie about the giant asteroid. (I love that movie!) I have posted it below for my own entertainment. Perhaps, you too will find it funny (unlikely). More likely, you just think it is lunacy and don’t get why I am cracking up over it. If, however, it makes sense to you AND you think it’s funny, than you, are perhaps my soulmate/new best friend.

Deep Thoughts on Armaggedon (The Movie) – by Rachel’s Younger-Wiser-Sibling

I was watching armageddon and it struck me how the president of the USA was giving a speech to the entire world, and he said “I’m not the President, or the leader of a major country, but a citizen of the world”, and it was and odd thing to say given how amero-centric the response to the catastrophe was then I started thinking about how that blithe ignorance of the unilateral v. multinational split in american politics could only happen pre-9/11.

Also, the shuttles are named the Freedom and Independence — as if the asteroid is an evil threat to america — as opposed to something that is going to blow up the entire world.

It’s sort of like when Liv Tyler starts crying when they think that both shuttles blew up and everything failed — not because that means the world (her life and everyone else’s life included) is going to end in 12 hours but because that means Ben Affleck and Bruce Willis are dead.

For instance, what would Obama think about the way we responded to the asteroid, without even consulting other countries or asking the UN if it would be okay to use a nuke? I also assume that we were the only country who knew about it (aside from Russia, of course, but only because they were helping with refueling from the space station), and that they took great care to make sure that no other countries found out about that. I cannot imagine the EU being very happy to learn that the American government is hiding apocolyptic secrets from the rest of the world on the grounds that it ‘knows better’ than everyone else and all that

Also, I forgot to mention that the whole film was probably co-funded by the NASA lobby and the nuclear research/arms lobby.

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