My caution has successfully been thrown to the wind!
There is a change in my future. I am taking the job at T for K, moving to somewhere an hour away from where I currently reside and I could not be more excited! All it took was a conversation with K. Suddenly everything feels a little less heavy. I feel as though I could do some good work for someone I so immensely care about. I have applied today to two different housing locations (rental property) and may even have a back up plan at said restaurant, my tax returns have been returned and my car will have a brandy-new inspection sticker on her as of next month.
The job starts in early May, so this will give me a proper month to get my ducks in a row, head out of my current job spot (let's call it "M") and housing situation and into the new ones. My last day at M will be on my birthday, the 27th of April. This will be choice as it will give me the last bits of April and the beginning bits of May to finalize anything that I would not have been able to without the time off. There is so much that can be done throughout the duration of a work week; packing/selling/cleaning etc... However, as with TAXES (see blog: "TAXES 2017" for reference), there always seems to be that one bloody last thing that you just can't seem to accomplish unless you have a complete day - or two - free of work. And those days off had better not fall on a Saturday, Sunday, or holiday weekend or you may as well not even have them.
K has been my main source of support through this specifically, of course, but my incredible sister who, somehow, is in a state of continual pride of whatever I am doing, stays behind me the entire way. My mother was wonderfully understanding of me moving out/leaving her to nest-tending and my boyfriend has been nothing short of terrific. L, yet another killer friend of mine (at least a triple-threat) has recently moved south as well, and as such will be about 20-30 minutes away from the new rental property, should I score it.
This is more support than I think I have ever gotten for one specific move. I can't help but feel a little optimistic.
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Sunday, March 19, 2017
March 2017
An opportunity has fallen into my lap.
I really have never had something come to me so easily. This is the sort of thing you only see in the films and read in the books. Everything has been going swimmingly and normally, I must confess, I have found myself to be the one to not rock the boat. (If it ain't broke...) However! This seems nearly too good to be true. There is something new I could be learning in the job front, a new place I could be living with my wonderful beau, chances I haven't had in the recent past to make a little more money, and as such go travelling, perhaps. And I would be getting the winter all to myself to either piss away whatever savings I had disciplined myself to throughout the warmer months, or pick up a little seasonal work at some retail establishment.
One of my absolute dearest friends has just become the manager of a very prestigious seasonal restaurant. Her name is K, the restaurant's is T. T is about an hour's haul away from my current place of business, which, in turn, is about 20 minutes from my home.
The only reason why I am writing this instead of immediately packing my bags is that I find myself nearly paralyzed with fear. New things don't scare me as much as I feel they should, being a Taurus, I typically find the good easier than the bad in the big picture and am in a constant state of attempting to better my ability to adapt (constant vs. adapt. Hilarious). No, it's not change that I find myself paralyzed from, but fear of inadequacy. I am an unfortunate-looking man on the first date with a goddess. More specifically, after not being on a date for a string of months.
You see, I am not entirely self-loathing, nor am I completely insecure. I get anxious over things that I most likely shouldn't and I have a temper, but after you factor that in, the rest is pretty minute (I'm not even going to begin to calculate physical misfortunes, as that is every one's burden, and, as such, a given). However, I cannot seem to deny the fact that I have never actually worked for a restaurant quite so prestigious.
This is not a shot at any other place I have ever been employed at as a server/bartender. And even if it was, certainly not a shot at my current place of business, as it is the coolest place I have ever worked. I have never been so excited to clock in, so happy to see any/all of my co-workers (management included), so okay with having a few slow days because, hey, I work here! All I am trying to convey is this;
There is quite clearly a difference between a small, locally-owned restaurant with a staff of six and a seasonal establishment on the water that serves multiple $20 beverages to any given patron on any given Wednesday,
Clearly there is going to be a shift in expectation.
How many wines, champagnes and cocktails will I be expected to not only remember, but speak to? I always try my best and work to excel at my job, but there is, of course, only so much I can do. There is a limit. No matter how much heart, soul and willingness. I don't know that I will be good enough, and I need to not disappoint my incredible friend and make this move to find out I am complete shit at something I want to be so successful at. And, of course, the ever-present fear of "no takesies-backsies" is not making it any easier on me. What will I be able to come back to if I do fail?
But I also cannot be afraid only to stay afraid. That is not healthy for me because it is not who I am. Especially since we are, after all, essentially talking about a change of scenery and not sky-diving. I wouldn't die any easier doing this new thing than I would doing the same thing I have been doing. And I am ever-curious. Regardless of the outcome, this experience will be an experience and I will learn something, grow in a way, and better myself somehow.
I already know how to do what I've been doing. Perhaps it's time I try something new.
I really have never had something come to me so easily. This is the sort of thing you only see in the films and read in the books. Everything has been going swimmingly and normally, I must confess, I have found myself to be the one to not rock the boat. (If it ain't broke...) However! This seems nearly too good to be true. There is something new I could be learning in the job front, a new place I could be living with my wonderful beau, chances I haven't had in the recent past to make a little more money, and as such go travelling, perhaps. And I would be getting the winter all to myself to either piss away whatever savings I had disciplined myself to throughout the warmer months, or pick up a little seasonal work at some retail establishment.
One of my absolute dearest friends has just become the manager of a very prestigious seasonal restaurant. Her name is K, the restaurant's is T. T is about an hour's haul away from my current place of business, which, in turn, is about 20 minutes from my home.
The only reason why I am writing this instead of immediately packing my bags is that I find myself nearly paralyzed with fear. New things don't scare me as much as I feel they should, being a Taurus, I typically find the good easier than the bad in the big picture and am in a constant state of attempting to better my ability to adapt (constant vs. adapt. Hilarious). No, it's not change that I find myself paralyzed from, but fear of inadequacy. I am an unfortunate-looking man on the first date with a goddess. More specifically, after not being on a date for a string of months.
You see, I am not entirely self-loathing, nor am I completely insecure. I get anxious over things that I most likely shouldn't and I have a temper, but after you factor that in, the rest is pretty minute (I'm not even going to begin to calculate physical misfortunes, as that is every one's burden, and, as such, a given). However, I cannot seem to deny the fact that I have never actually worked for a restaurant quite so prestigious.
This is not a shot at any other place I have ever been employed at as a server/bartender. And even if it was, certainly not a shot at my current place of business, as it is the coolest place I have ever worked. I have never been so excited to clock in, so happy to see any/all of my co-workers (management included), so okay with having a few slow days because, hey, I work here! All I am trying to convey is this;
There is quite clearly a difference between a small, locally-owned restaurant with a staff of six and a seasonal establishment on the water that serves multiple $20 beverages to any given patron on any given Wednesday,
Clearly there is going to be a shift in expectation.
How many wines, champagnes and cocktails will I be expected to not only remember, but speak to? I always try my best and work to excel at my job, but there is, of course, only so much I can do. There is a limit. No matter how much heart, soul and willingness. I don't know that I will be good enough, and I need to not disappoint my incredible friend and make this move to find out I am complete shit at something I want to be so successful at. And, of course, the ever-present fear of "no takesies-backsies" is not making it any easier on me. What will I be able to come back to if I do fail?
But I also cannot be afraid only to stay afraid. That is not healthy for me because it is not who I am. Especially since we are, after all, essentially talking about a change of scenery and not sky-diving. I wouldn't die any easier doing this new thing than I would doing the same thing I have been doing. And I am ever-curious. Regardless of the outcome, this experience will be an experience and I will learn something, grow in a way, and better myself somehow.
I already know how to do what I've been doing. Perhaps it's time I try something new.
This Day
Just when you thought you had sorrowfully graduated to adulthood. Just when you thought you had grown out of simple pleasures. Just when you thought your glory days were behind you.
You have a day like this.
Your eyes lazily, yet soberly open to sunshine streaming in from the window. The light isn't aggressive, just calmly hanging there, awaiting your rise and that sweet, faint smell is recognizable, but not tired, just beautifully familiar. No work; the morning and the day is yours - a factor which, although not necessary, I find to be quite conducive to the art of appreciation. A day where everything's there, and even if it isn't, you have somehow been given the tools to make it so.
You're inside, you're outside, what difference does it make? Just knowing that the weather's getting better is enough to make you feel as though you've gotten a serotonin shot straight the face.
Food tastes better; fuller, music has an added dimension, you run into a friend and feel like squeezing them in a hug so tight they may find it difficult to breathe. Whatever you do or do not accomplish on this day, by the end of it you'll still find yourself glad you had it.
This day is a feeling. And it has revived me.
You have a day like this.
Your eyes lazily, yet soberly open to sunshine streaming in from the window. The light isn't aggressive, just calmly hanging there, awaiting your rise and that sweet, faint smell is recognizable, but not tired, just beautifully familiar. No work; the morning and the day is yours - a factor which, although not necessary, I find to be quite conducive to the art of appreciation. A day where everything's there, and even if it isn't, you have somehow been given the tools to make it so.
You're inside, you're outside, what difference does it make? Just knowing that the weather's getting better is enough to make you feel as though you've gotten a serotonin shot straight the face.
Food tastes better; fuller, music has an added dimension, you run into a friend and feel like squeezing them in a hug so tight they may find it difficult to breathe. Whatever you do or do not accomplish on this day, by the end of it you'll still find yourself glad you had it.
This day is a feeling. And it has revived me.
Friday, March 10, 2017
Blogging
'So this is how one starts a blog of their own,' I thought, as I pasted and published one old document of random personal thought and one more recent on a subject more accessible.
I have always wondered how people could do this to themselves. The ongoing joke of "that friend you know who blogs" would certainly be enough to deter the average Joe from doing so/being that guy. Unfortunately, as everyday as my days seem, I am not as strong or clever as the average Joe.
Enter my first blog, and with it, my first few entries.
Day one of doing this and already I've racked the number up to three. My third post. Why have I started this? Do I hope someone will read it? I'm not even sure how that would happen. I, for one, have never found myself in the mood to search - local or otherwise - websites for random blog entries. I suppose this is why that friend we know who blogs won't shut up about it. Because they can't! They couldn't afford to. No one would read it if they ceased bringing it up at dinner parties/ coffee dates/ doctor's appointments.
Of course, that's not to say that once mentioned, we will read the damned thing. I know I can't recall the last one I set eyes on. Perhaps this is an ancient form of entertainment already. Have I missed the bus? Am I becoming part of some anonymous time capsule? One that was buried in the backyard and marked only to be forgotten about once the family picks up and moves to North Dakota for that job promotion? I suppose there's only one way to find out. I could ask Google, but I assume all I would find are old opinions on old anonymous blogs by bloggers I would never give a flying hoot about. Let alone be interested enough in said old opinions to sift through the lengthy introductions and forced humor for them.
Or is it my ego? Is everyone I care about doing this and I just haven't been asking the right questions? Instead of "How're you?" I should be asking "How many entries have you published today?" (Ooh, that many, eh? Here, let me log on and read them as you sit in silence so that I can really know what's going on in your life.) Maybe that's it; Just more of technology pushing us away from the people in the same room. People hadn't blogged for the longest time and seemed to do alright, but then again that was back when people spoke face to face and actually listened to each other, I suppose. Ah, a different time, indeed.
At any rate, I am nothing if not an opportunist and nearly always up for a personal experiment. Maybe this will be good for me.
I have always wondered how people could do this to themselves. The ongoing joke of "that friend you know who blogs" would certainly be enough to deter the average Joe from doing so/being that guy. Unfortunately, as everyday as my days seem, I am not as strong or clever as the average Joe.
Enter my first blog, and with it, my first few entries.
Day one of doing this and already I've racked the number up to three. My third post. Why have I started this? Do I hope someone will read it? I'm not even sure how that would happen. I, for one, have never found myself in the mood to search - local or otherwise - websites for random blog entries. I suppose this is why that friend we know who blogs won't shut up about it. Because they can't! They couldn't afford to. No one would read it if they ceased bringing it up at dinner parties/ coffee dates/ doctor's appointments.
Of course, that's not to say that once mentioned, we will read the damned thing. I know I can't recall the last one I set eyes on. Perhaps this is an ancient form of entertainment already. Have I missed the bus? Am I becoming part of some anonymous time capsule? One that was buried in the backyard and marked only to be forgotten about once the family picks up and moves to North Dakota for that job promotion? I suppose there's only one way to find out. I could ask Google, but I assume all I would find are old opinions on old anonymous blogs by bloggers I would never give a flying hoot about. Let alone be interested enough in said old opinions to sift through the lengthy introductions and forced humor for them.
Or is it my ego? Is everyone I care about doing this and I just haven't been asking the right questions? Instead of "How're you?" I should be asking "How many entries have you published today?" (Ooh, that many, eh? Here, let me log on and read them as you sit in silence so that I can really know what's going on in your life.) Maybe that's it; Just more of technology pushing us away from the people in the same room. People hadn't blogged for the longest time and seemed to do alright, but then again that was back when people spoke face to face and actually listened to each other, I suppose. Ah, a different time, indeed.
At any rate, I am nothing if not an opportunist and nearly always up for a personal experiment. Maybe this will be good for me.
Suckfest 2016
2016 had struck again.
What I can only describe as the sudden landslide that was my bad luck had reared its ugly head once more and with an almighty swing it had decimated one of my three jobs. The one that was not necessarily my favorite, but certainly the one that I considered to be my "career opportunity" job. And with the first year of my 30s creeping in (in what felt like a deathly, deft sprint, at the unsure age of 27-and-three-quarters), "career-opportunity" was something that seemed to "really matter" to me.
How did it happen? The same way it had began; via a friendly text message from my boss. Sure, he had the courtesy to blame the final decision on financial instabilities in the still-young company, but I knew immediately. It was me. I had failed. Again.
How does this happen to a person? And just what exactly was I supposed to do with all this free time? Scrolling the bottomless pit that is Instagram only goes so far, and Facebook had lost all appeal quickly with the compelling combination of politics and an unhealthy amount of social media upkeep for two out of my three jobs. It had gotten to the point where I could - at any given moment on any given day, silence my phone for 15 minutes of work, reopen it, and the app would once more be filled to the brim with notifications. Tens of them. None of them my own. It had become 60% work, 40% irritating, and 0% fun.
So with social media out of the way, what else was there? I had cycled through my medium selection of fiction books recently, having recently decided to be thrifty; 2 new jobs working for tips in Lewiston with a third straining to even clock in 6 hours a week did not a concrete paycheck make. This month, December, 2016, was the first full month where I had only my 3 new jobs to depend on (in a related note, this variable created what I would acknowledge to be the single lengthiest month I had ever experienced). Other than reading and sweating profusely as the date to pay the mortgage crept closer, the only art I had really been practicing was the art of making the best homemade cold-brew coffee. With what could be described as easily the cheapest coffee available at the local supermarket, that is, without tasting completely of cardboard and must.
Yes, it had seemed I had been making very clever decisions. Foregoing my daily Venti Starbucks for that of my own creation, staying in instead of going out, not spending all of my money on gas by only traveling to work, the bank, the grocery store and back (an especially difficult feat during the holiday season). I pushed myself to stay positive, as per usual, treated everyone with the utmost respect, worked hard, picked up shifts whenever possible. And yet here I was. Down not only a job, but also a car, a boyfriend, and what I could only assume to be an enormous amount of money. With a fuel-oil bill on the way.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
* * *
Everyone had warned me; "2016 is the worst year", "I can't believe how bad everything is", "I'm moving to Canada" etc. And as they warned, I shook my head kindly, danced through the rainbow that was my life, and sang Broadway classics. Everything was not bad; it was great! In November, I had been living in my trailer since May of this year, May also marked the one-year anniversary of my relationship with my dream guy, my car was running just fine (with snow tires from just last year in my shed at the ready), I had been hired in a flash at 2 new waitressing/bar tending gigs (which, naturally, I took as "a sign from God": that here was where I was supposed to be), I was on the way out of my last job that had run its course (my last day on Thanksgiving, how appropriate), and I had solidly found the best, most peaceful, quickest route from my new place to Starbucks. Life was, by definition, good. I had been so blissful that I had even cut back on smoking (3 a day!).
By the time I hit mid to late November, I had gotten a friendly text from one of my sister's friends who had created a brewery in Lewiston. It was a job offer! He wanted me to meet with him and his business partner so we could discuss me being a Product Ambassador! I would essentially be setting up tastings at bars, grabbing samples of the brewery's beer products, and bringing them over to said restaurant to taste and discuss. The end result, of course, being that hopefully I had done my job well enough that I could schedule the brewery boys to deliver a keg or five to said restaurant. Get their name out there a little more, make them a little money, and make a little myself. And working hard for these two boys was more than my pleasure. I don't recall the text I received that day, but I do believe I recall doing what could be categorized as a "victory dance". On top of everything else? I had a "career opportunity"! All-too aware of my own mortality, I had decided early on that I did not wish to be the 90-year-old waitress/bartender that hadn't known when to quit and was no longer relevant as much as she was irrelevant, irritating and all-around unappetizing. Who, more than likely, only still had the job due to the exponentially deepening sadness of the situation. Although I wouldn't mind the blue hair.
By Thanksgiving, my last day at my old job, I had decided that all my stress would surely be coming to an end. Walking out at the end of that shift, I imagine I felt the way everyone in that situation would have; 'This is it. I've clocked out. I am officially free. no more [enter example of being taken advantage here], no more dealing with [enter name of biggest pain-in-the-ass here], I'll never have to come back here again!!!! YOU DON'T OWN ME, ANYMORE, [enter company name here]!!!!!'. Give or take a few exclamation marks (I'm leaning on the side of give).
Yes, I was finally free of all the bologna. Little did I know my slate had been wiped clean only to pile an insurmountable pile of horse shit atop my very soul. To say the least, I'm smoking again. Habitually.
TAXES 2017
Why is it that when you attempt to forge through your taxes at home, alone, online, it never goes properly the first time?
I can’t possibly be the only person who goes through this.
You’re one year smarter and have, most likely, survived one more problem from last year’s go at whatever tax site you log on to. Sure, you stumbled a bit last year, but that was last year! You were but a child! You’re an adult now. Things are different. You’ve filed all of your paperwork you’ve deemed necessary under “T” for taxes, subcategory “2016”, and once more you’ve got a separate folder INSIDE of those aforementioned for each job, each car, each loan, each medical bill and so forth. You get out of work on a Friday, you pour yourself a hot tea (with lemon, because, let’s not forget; you’re an adult now), log onto your personal computing device and have only a dim lamp to distract you. You even have your AGI and a personal check with your banking information, checking account and routing number on it. Surely you’ve done everything properly. You won’t be taken by surprise this year.
Surely.
You start out strong and confident, maybe even allow yourself a quick “HAH”. ‘You won’t take me this time,’ you think. Then, in the height of it, once you’ve painstakingly entered in all of the information from any and all W-2s, you remember ‘Oh, yes, I took out a bit from my 401k last year… for the house.’ You fiddle through your filework, first calmly, and then a bit more feverishly as the seconds go by. Fingers dancing, heat and panic building, you start to sweat as you begin to realize ‘This is it. This is the thing. The thing that stops me dead in my tracks and disallows me my feeling of completion.’ And then, finally, after admitting defeat; ‘I’m not getting my taxes done tonight’.
Now I have been through this rigamarole enough times to know that there are ways around things. Don’t have your AGI? No problem; go to this website and enter a few things. No routing number? Look it up on Google. No personal check? Well you can get that information at your local branch. Just a quick drive away. So naturally I think ‘Okay, so I don’t have my 1099r. I can just log onto that 401k provider’s website and get a copy there. Or at least enough information to get by.
I’m not entirely certain how many times and how casually I thought I had logged into said provider’s website, but whatever the number, it hadn’t been enough to remember my id and password to log into my personal information. But that’s what security questions are for! And after failing two in a row, I was locked out for the night… and the weekend. Because it was Friday night and this provider was unavailable by phone until 8:30am, Monday. And that is the only way to unlock my account.
The only reason for any real frustration is that, in addition to this new and exciting fuck up, I have never in my life waited this long to complete my taxes, and I wonder how much longer it will take. Have I surpassed the allowance of time? Is the FBI going to take me away in an armored car the way they would have liked to do to Al Pachino in Scarface? Only this time they would succeed entirely, due to the complete lack of uppers in my bloodstream. How tragic. Taken away at the young age of twenty-seven for accidental tax-evasion. Perhaps I will get off a bit early for good behavior. *
*I have done the proper research and found that this year's cutoff date is in April.
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