The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

The Good:

The Hotel has taken me back like the bastard step-child* who keeps trying to run away (this is the 3rd time that they’ve taken me back).  So I’m there fulltime as of the beginning of December.  They asked that I at least commit to 6 months there and then we can see if we’re a good fit.  Sounds fair to me!  It’s a lovely place to work, and all of the people are fantastic, so I know it’s going to be a good 6 months (maybe, hopefully, possibly more?).

(*I can say that because I am a step-child.  Several times over in fact.  It’s not as bad as some might think.  Who needs one father WHEN YOU CAN HAVE THREE?)

Also The Good:

The Passion Pit concert that was delayed waaaaaay back in June was rescheduled for this past Wednesday at Paradiso.  I went with Ms Trouble Herself, Alexandra.  Because this concert was originally scheduled for the day I returned from Glasgow, and because all during my trip I listened mostly to Passion Pit, it was a great reminder of that trip and what good it had done for my heart and soul.  More on the concert in another post.

Also The Good:

I spent yesterday meeting new friends and drinking hot beverages by roaring fireplaces with already friends.  And in between that I even worked a little bit!  And it all gave me such a warm fuzzy feeling, and made me realize where the balance of life should lay.

Life should be a very small percentage of working for the paycheck, and a very large, overwhelming percentage of cultivating these friendships that give me so much energy and happiness.  DO YOU HEAR THAT POTENTIAL FUTURE EMPLOYERS?  I’d much rather be hanging out with new and old friends than doing your dirty work!  PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT.

The Bad

The Post-Apocolypic Hangover from the concert.  YOWZA.  Nothing like a 24 hour hangover to set your priorities straight again.

Also?  29 years old is WAAAAYY too old to stand next to the speaker. Please speak into my right ear only.

The Ugly

Not-so-skinny boys in skinny jeans.  Big thighs, tiny ankles.

I won’t even explain that here, because you know.  YOU KNOW.

London, well after the fact

Remember back when I went to London and risked my life on the world’s longest escalators?

Well I totally forgot to mention two things about that trip.

Number One:

This is all I brought with me, everything in this photo (plus I swear I had pants on too, although you can’t see them).

Savvy Packing

This was a major feat for me, and a very freeing exercise in travelling lightly.  No extra pair of shoes (just my kickass boots), no outfit for “what if” scenarios (“What if it’s colder than I realize? Maybe a sweater.” “What if it’s rainy?  Maybe extra socks.” etc), just exactly the amount of clothes and toiletries that I needed for the trip.  And my laptop.

Number Two:

How funny is the name of this pub?

I had to take a photo. Call me a tourist, I don't even care. Worth it.

I will follow you into the dark – Death Cab for Cutie

I’m sure you’ve all probably heard this before, it’s not exactly new.  But if I trip and fall under a tram tomorrow, I want the world to know that this is one of the sweetest songs my ears have ever heard.

Just for the record.

Love of mine
some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light
or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for
the hint of a spark

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

 

My First Etsy Purchase

I’ve been a long-time fan of Etsy, but have never actually bought anything, just sort of “window-shopped” on the site and got inspired by all the lovely handmade things.

However tonight I stumbled across this amazing ring. It’s been awhile since I bought anything for myself (recession, shmecession!  I don’t care!  Let’s consider this my congratulatory gift to myself for scoring a new job!*), so I thought why not? and added it to the shopping basket.

Recycled Chic

It’s made from those recycled security envelopes that your bills come in!  How clever!

And then while flipping through the seller’s other items, I saw the story of her cat, Quasi (also dubbed “The Ugly Kitty”).   I have a particular fondness for things that are so ugly they’re cute, and Quasi fits that bill!  Look:

Quasi: A Face Only a Mother Could Love

It turns out that the Etsy seller, Renee, is taking donations for the no-kill animal shelter from which she adopted Quasi.  To think that this little sweetheart could have been euthanized had he found his way into almost any other shelter just because he doesn’t look like most cats is a sad close call!  I love that she is using Etsy for such a great purpose, animals always being close to my heart, so of course I had to donate a little bit.

And then the kicker.  This pin:

It's funny cuz it's true!

It turns out that Renee is also a Jersey Girl! This was too funny not to buy.

So there you have it. I wandered onto Etsy completely not intending to buy and instead made my first purchase.  And here was me just a few days ago griping that I didn’t have enough dough for Halloween…

So anyway, Renee has just taken the Seat of Honor as The First Person that I Have Purchased Things From on Etsy.  I think that may be too long for the little plaque on a trophy, though.

Thanks, Renee!  And if you get a chance, check out her store.  Lovely things!

* Yes!  New job!  Score score score!

Safety Nets and Open Doors

I’ve written about this before, but I recently re-stumbled on another blogger’s take on it, and read her post again because it is so perfectly written and just hits home for me.

I am suggesting that before heading into unknown territories, we release ourselves from this safety net thinking. Don’t think about fallback option a) or fallback option b). There is no fallback. Tell your family not to get in touch. Lose your Savings Account number. Don’t look down. Focus completely on what you want or have to do. Then do it.

Because the only other option is: SPLAT.

I’ve been wrestling with this for quite awhile now, because it seems that my life is all about the safety nets, all about keeping all my doors open.

Just in case.

Plan B’s to cover my Plan A’s.  Plan C’s in case the B’s fail.

I can’t decide if I’m being smart and cautious, or stubborn and wimpy.

There are a few particular doors I think I should slam shut.  Safety nets that I should throw away.  But those same doors and nets have allowed me to live this life that I have been living so far, so it’s a difficult decision to make and live with, to know that by getting rid of these things in my life I may never be able to come back to this particular way of living again.  And this particular way of living gives me a lot of freedom, to be frank.

But I can also see that this way of living is keeping me in a holding pattern, neither moving forward nor falling back.  Just circling merrily above, going round and round and round.

But maybe that’s just part of the growing process?  We live, we learn, we move on, we grow?

 

A Song and a Memory: “Dramamine” by Modest Mouse

2004, Somewhere between Mexico and Jamaica on the Atlantic Ocean: I’ve been on two cruises in my life.  Once to the Bahamas when I was very young and it was a family vacation and I don’t remember too much.  The other was with my then-boyfriend while we were on a trip Stateside.  We took a week-long cruise through the Carribbean.  It was nice and all, but I don’t think that I’ll be taking any more cruises in my lifetime.  Just not my style.

At the time I had a generic mp3 player that held a maximum of 20 songs (I know!  At the time I was amazed but now it’s like pffff.  ONLY 20 songs?)  Anyway I had chosen those 20 songs with great care, and I think maybe half of those songs were by Modest Mouse.

Now, I’m prone to motion sickness, so I had come on the cruise armed to the teeth with motion sickness medicine.  Not so much for the cruise ship itself, but more for the small boats that we would be taking when we went scuba diving at each port of call.

One afternoon I was laying on the deck in the sunshine, eyes closed, feeling one too many pina coladas and this song came on my mp3 player.  The laid back mellow sound of this song was particularly relaxing, and I was enjoying the feeling of floating on the deck as the large ship crested over the waves.  The sun, the sound of the ocean, the music in my ears- it was all just sooooooo nice.  I felt like it was just me alone, floating in the middle of the great big Atlantic, bobbing along to the sounds of Modest Mouse.

And then I realized the name of this song and had to laugh- “Dramamine“.  The very same motion sickness medicine that I had packed for this trip.

What a funny coincidence.

Sea Legs in the City

Today it was pissing down rain when I had to leave the house for work, so instead of biking or taking the tram, I donned Dave’s extra large coat, tucked my jeans into my wellies, and grabbed an umbrella and walked to work instead, enjoying my dryness and warmth while I listened to “Sea Legs” by The Shins.

First of all can I just say that if you have to leave the comfort of home to walk to work on a Sunday when it’s pissing rain outside, when you’d rather be at home relaxing off the Halloween Movie Night hangover by watching even more fantastic 80s horror movies, then this is the perfect song to see you on your way.

Back to the point.

So there I was, huddled and warm in this massive men’s jacket, arms not reaching out of the sleeves, head hidden by the hoodie, splashing through puddles because I could, and all around me I saw tourists.  Tourists who obviously hadn’t taken into account the fickle Dutch weather when planning their trip, because none of them had umbrellas.

So they were all getting soaked to the bone, squinting up through the rain at the architecture, walking in wet shoes with plastered down hair, and trying to decipher soggy maps.

The look on their faces said it all.  “Are we having fun in Amsterdam yet?“

And all of this warmed my heart.  I’m not an evil person, but I found it all quite hilarious.  I wanted to take each one under my umbrella, pull out the ear plugs in my iPod, and say “Don’t worry, the rain will stop soon.  In the meantime, listen to this song.  It’s brilliant!”

The Recession Ate My Halloween

I’m calling my Halloween off.

Of all the absolute SHIT that I’ve been through this year, this particular pile-o-crap is really a sucker punch to the nutz.  It truly hurts me to do, but for once in my life I’ve got to be an adult about my finances.  And that means facing the fact that rent day is one day after Halloween, and I am already very, very short on the rent for next month.

So shelling out for costume fixings and the ticket to the party and drinks all night won’t help the fact that I am already several hundred euros short on rent.  Rent that I’m supposed to magically pull out of my ass on the first of the month.  Still not sure how that’s going to happen, but meh.  I’m too upset right now about Halloween to really give a rat’s ass.

This could very well change if we miraculously get someone to rent the spare bedroom.  Then you KNOW that his/her deposit is going straight into a Halloween costume, and I’ll be running to the front of the party line, throwing my money into shots of Jagermeister and vodka limes.

Because I can only take being an adult about my finances for so long.

Anyway enough about that.  Let’s see where I was in years past:

Four Years Ago: I was stream-of-conscious blogging.  From crack whores to bed covers, all in the blink of an eye.  I was also being oh-so-American, and…yup, I was hungover.  No surprise there then.

Three Years Ago:  Oh noooo!  I was blogging about Skidboot the Dog, and crying while doing so.  Sooo not going to watch that video again.  I was also crying while watching a rowing race, which is quite normal.  I got a bit teary while watching the Amsterdam Marathon the other weekend, waiting for John to pass.  I was also, apparently, curing myself of depression in my own unique method.  (Who wants to guess when my period was this month?  Any takers?  First one to answer correctly wins a prize!)

Two Years Ago: I was distracted by all of that dogsitting we were doing (egads- NEVER AGAIN!) when Halloween started creeping up on me. I also wondered about why people don’t act on their crazy, insane, but usually good thoughts and ideas.

Also, don’t be swayed by his cute face.  That there is a teddy bear serial killer.

Last year, whatever I was doing, I wasn’t blogging about it.  I got nothin’ for ya.

There, that’s about it.

This is a holdup. Stick ‘em up!

I promised this story a while ago, and since I’m coming up a bit empty-handed for blog posts these days, I suppose now is as good a time as ever.

I worked at The Wild Geese Irish pub in Brussels two times during the five years that I lived in the city.  Once was back in 2002 when he was my boss.  The other time was in 2005 after a 6 month period of unemployment where I was climbing the walls of my apartment and wandering the streets of Brussels every day, completely at a loss as to what to do with myself, how to fill the long hours of every day.

I happened to be at the pub having a drink one day when I asked one of the girls that I knew there if there were any jobs going.  She said no, but a few days later I got a call from the manager.  It turns out they did need people, and quite badly, so I was back working at the pub the next week.

As much as I dislike bar work, I have to admit that it can be quite fun at times, especially when you close for the night and have a few drinks at the empty bar, throwing around stories of the assholes that you served that night, or the funny things that happened during the day.  I had only been back working for about a month when I worked a busy Friday night shift and we finally closed the bar at 3 am.  After cleaning up, we were settling down for our after-work drink by 4 am and the stories were flowing.  There were five of us in total, and after one drink, the other girl went home.  The assistant manager let her out of the side door, and came back to his seat, so it was just me with the three fellas.

We were just enjoying an after work drink when suddenly...

Now, as is always the case, hindsight is 20/20.  After the events of that night, I was able to look back and think, “Yes, it was odd that I saw 4 men dressed in black passing the bar at about 3:30 am in a very non-residential area of Brussels,” but at the time I thought nothing of it, didn’t realize that what I was seeing were 4 robbers “casing the joint”- the joint that I happened to be in, merrily drinking away the night’s hard work.

And again in hindsight, the assistant manager should have locked the door after he let the one girl out.  He really kicked himself for this afterwards, but we couldn’t have predicted that any of this would happen.  And those guys were outside anyway, just waiting for the opportune moment, so when they saw that the door was left unlocked, they grabbed their chance.

We were just turning back to our drinks again when the door flew open and four men ran in, dressed totally in black, with ski masks, black gloves, and guns.  Black shiny guns that they were waving around.

Did I mention that they had guns?

First thought: haha!  What a laugh.  But who do we know would pull a joke like this?

Second thought:   Oh. Crap.

"On the floor! Now!"

So that’s how the four of us ended up facedown on the ground, each with a gun to our head.  The robbers were yelling and yelling in French, and I have to tell you, after five years of living in Brussels and struggling with French on a good day, my language skills were never so sparkling as when I had a gun pointed at me.

WHO IS THE MANAGER? WHERE IS THE BOSS?

He’s not here.  He wasn’t working tonight.

WHERE IS THE SAFE?

Upstairs.

WHERE IS THE MONEY?

In the safe.

WHERE IS YOUR ATM CARD?

In my bag.  (Here my bag was thrown down in front of me, the contents strewn about and my wallet taken out.  He flipped through the cards, asking which one was my debit card, and pulled out an expired card.)

WHAT’S YOUR PIN CODE?

That card is expired.  (So helpful of me!  Just because you’re being robbed doesn’t mean you should forget your manners.)

I saw the right card in my wallet, and willed it to somehow hide itself.  Stupid card didn’t listen, so he eventually found it and pulled it out, waving it in front of my face.

WHAT’S YOUR PIN CODE?

I gave him my number.  I was fully aware that there was an ATM machine across the street, so they would probably go use the cards, and by lying about my number I would get caught out.

WE WILL KNOW IF YOU ARE LYING!

I know, but I promise that’s the number.  It’s my mother’s birthday.

THIS WILL ALL BE OVER SOON.

Thinking: What the fuck does THAT mean?!?!  Over soon how?

Anyway, while this was going on with me, the three guys I worked with were also being robbed of their personal belongings- mainly money, cards, and phones.  Then they took the assistant manager upstairs to get him to open the safe (he played stupid and didn’t open it, although they roughed him up a bit).  Then they told us to get up, marched us back to the kitchen, and had us lay facedown on the floor back there.  Then one went to steal money from our cards at the ATM machine across the street while the others stood guard, telling us over and over again that it would be over soon.

Oh no, not the kitchen. I've seen this bit in the movies...

During this whole thing, my mind kept swaying between two basic thoughts.  The first was: “ohshit-ohshit-ohshit-crap-crap-crap” and was accompanied by visions of the flash of gunfire, and wondering when that was coming, and how it would feel.  I was bracing myself for it.

The other more dominating and rational thought was something along the lines of:  “They won’t shoot.  It would make too much noise, and they want to get away as quietly as possible.  And besides there is no reason to shoot us.  They’ll just take what they want and be gone.”

But I have to admit that when they marched us back to the kitchen I couldn’t help but think of all of those stories that I heard growing up where workers in bars and restaurants were robbed, then brought back to the kitchen and shot execution-style.  I had a flash that this was a bad, bad sign, but then the rational side of my brain would remind me that there was no reason to hurt us, no reason to shoot.

Moments later another voice was above me, yelling at the back of my head:

YOU WERE LYING!  WHAT’S YOUR PIN CODE?

I wasn’t lying.  That’s my pin code, I swear.

DON’T LIE TO ME!

I promise, that’s the number!

The Jersey girl in me got a little indignant here, I have to admit. Pfffff.  Calling me a liar when he’s pointing a gun at my head? That’s a laugh.

I think because they were in a rush to get out as soon as possible they didn’t press the issue much further.  I remembered later that I had in fact given the wrong number to my debit card, having just gotten a new card recently.  So they didn’t get money from my card, but they did take my phone and €300 that was in my bag for my rent.   But it was sheer stupidity and forgetfulness that saved what little money I had left in my bank account.

I have a feeling as well that because I was a girl I got a bit of an easier time than the three guys, who were hit and kicked about a bit, while I was just nudged and pushed.

Anyway, they told us in the kitchen to wait for 10 minutes and then they disappeared.  We all layed there in a row, quiet as church mice for about a minute until the assistant manager looked back at me.  I flashed him the biggest cheesiest smile I could muster with two thumbs up signs, laying on my belly on the nasty kitchen floor, and the two of us burst out laughing.

That’s when we got up and called the police.

The police came and the manager of the pub came around.  After giving our reports and seeing the police off, the manager gave us a few hundred euros to go into town and have a few drinks to unwind.  He felt really bad that we had just been through this ordeal, but besides a bit of shellshock we were overall in good spirits, more in disbelief of the whole situation than anything else.  One guy, however, was a bit more shaken up and decided to go home instead.

So we went into town but it was too late for any bars to still be open, so we bought cans of beer and sat on a bench in the city center, asking if this really just happened to us, and going over the finer details to compare what each of us had gone through.  Then we headed back to the assistant manager’s house and hashed it out some more.  It all felt so surreal and incredulous, something that happened in movies, not in real life.  So we just drank and laughed and marvelled over how imposible it all seemed, bonding over this thing that we had just been through until the sun came up the next morning.

Our laughter made me feel strong.  I felt like a survivor, but I knew I didn’t quite deserve that title.   It had been an ordeal, but I was more fascinated by it than frightened.   My rationale had kept any panic at bay, and for the most part- except for a few tense moments- I knew that we would come out unscathed when it was all over.  It was only hours later, after several cans of beer, when I arrived home  in the morning, that I broke down and cried.

You always think about how you would react in certain situations, and I can assure you that whatever you think you would do, you never actually get around to doing.  The shock is too sudden, your mind clicks off, and you kind of just numbly react.

Anyway, I did walk away from the situation with a bit more awareness.  Any job I’ve had since you can be damn sure I’ve checked the locks on the doors twice at closing, and kept my head about me when leaving the place at night.

I can now chalk it down to one of life’s more interesting experiences that I have had.  And it may seem kind of odd, but for that I’m actually somewhat grateful.

My blog search terms never fail me

I wish that I had some good excuse for the lack of blogging these……let’s see…ten days.

Whoa, wait- really?  Ten days?  Ten whole days?  Dayum.

Anyway, I wish I had a good excuse, but honestly the only reasons are: new job, ongoing social life, lack of blog fodder, and an unreasonable and very time-consuming love of The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

At least that last one will be over with as soon as I get through all of this last season, but I’m just going to say it now:  The day I watch the last episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta is going to be a sad, sad day.   Maybe even one to be filed under my “Things that made me cry” category.

Meanwhile, the search terms that bring people to this blog never fail to provide me with a reason to smile:

“good fuck”

Awwwwww yeah.  You’ve come to the right place, my friend.

Boom chicka-wa-wa.