The Land of Squee

How long has it been since I've used a happy icon?

So Bubba Gump has my back both emotionally and financially.  AMC cut everyone down to two shifts a week, so I'm only there for the free movies now.  Meanwhile my bills can totally be paid by the Bubba Gump base pay, and I can live (and buy Subway or order pizza or buy shoes!) off the modest tipshare the bussers get (last Thursday I got $67!).  They consistently give me five seven-hour shifts a week, too!  And everyone there is so silly and adorable (and they all know showtunes!) that I always leave cheery and jazzed.

But just when I was content to stop sending out resumes and crying over monster.com postings, I got an email asking for a phone interview with a little publishing company here in the city.  The interview went well and I have an in-person one scheduled for Thursday.  THEN several hours later anOTHER job I'd applied to called and set up an interview for tomorrow!  The publishing company wants me for customer service (which I'm totally comfortable with and yay a publishing company!) and the other company needs an entry-level sales person to try to convince rich people to sponsor kids in Africa or something.  Obviously I want the customer service job.  But both of these are full-time with benefits!  AND if I don't get either I just stay at Bubba Gump, where I'm totally happy (honestly if I had to leave now, just two weeks after finishing training, I'd be really disappointed).

On April 23rd, the day tumbling Whovians were meant to draw tally marks on their arms, I remembered partway through my final training shift that I hadn't done it.  I sighed and mumbled "darn, it's April 23rd, I was going to do that tally mark thing" and the girl training me went "OH YEAH!", grabbed a pen, and started drawing tally marks on her own arms!  Later I was subwaypooling home with a different girl and we were talking about pasta and she said "well my favorite are bowties because bowties are cool" and I was like DID YOU SAY THAT ON PURPOSE, haha.  Plus I made one friend just by joining in uninvited on her singing Defying Gravity.  We spend a lot of time dancing and singing to each other.  Bubba Gump is like that.

Anyway, for my birthday I went out to my uncle's house in the Jersey suburbs, and my mom and grandma and uncle and aunt (and cuzband ughakfdja;lkf he hugged me and i was like i will never let go of you) had a lovely day of acting silly and eating delicious food.  It was honestly a better birthday even that the free Eurodisney trip last year, though it doesn't quite beat out my magical day in Bordeaux with Nunozart and bisous from Flo.  Still, my mom and I got into some champagne and produced this, which still makes me laugh my ass off.

Then I brought the fabric and sticky tack my mom gave me for my birthday back to my apartment and turned the loft Sophia bequeathed me into a hot pink fortress of solitude filled with MOR posters and glow-in-the-dark stars.  I'm sitting in it right now with my own personal light on and Sophia has gone to sleep out on her bed and it really feels like I have my own space where I have control of my life without affecting or annoying someone else.  She has also been really cool about the hideous print on my curtains, which I ADORE because it's just very very me.  I am in my perfect element right now on this little cot surrounded by paraphernalia.  I have money in the bank, I caught up on my bills, I have money in my wallet, and I even have another round of tipshare waiting for me at Bubba Gump from Saturday night.

My aunt drove me into the city yesterday morning with an old dresser in the back (meaning I finally put my clothes into drawers and am not living out of a suitcase for the first time since EARLY AUGUST!) and she's so enchanted by NYC that she helped me see my building and my neighborhood and the whole city with new eyes.  I'm not as determined to get out of here as I was a week ago.  I'm back on track for wanting to have a studio here someday and have a real person job, though I do still want to retire to the Appalachain mountains someday, or just move there once I've had enough of city.  I feel so much better though.  I have opportunities, personal space, spending money, and my perkiness back.

I got a haircut today--just trimmed off the damage from not getting on for a year and a half, and when I looked in the mirror and realized I had committed to this look, I also realized... I'm regenerating. High school weirdly-dressed kid with crazy long hair was my One, then there was the college version that wore big decorations on her head with that shaggy cut, and now I'm going to be Three. Adult me, whose hair keeps changing color (within the range of possibly natural colors, unfortunately) and keeps getting longer. I'm going to have new companions soon and the interior of the TARDIS will look all different.

Yeah. Regenerating. But I'd like to keep the same showrunner that Two had, thanks.

(Thanks for being so patient with me during my meltdowns and for being supportive, guys.)

 A day with Kelley includes a whole lot of "You look so hot!" and "You're such a sexpot!" and other such things I had never heard before this past year.  KELLEY.  YOU ARE REALLY GOOD FOR MY SELF-ESTEEM.

If I ever mention this whole self-image thing to my mom she protests that my dad used to tell me I was pretty all the time.  But the thing is, he's my dad and he never said it seriously, it just seemed like a thing he said to fill silence so I never took it seriously or listened to the meaning of those words.

And today at the end of a long conversation with my mom I finally said, "Do you like my hair?"  She shrugged and went, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be.  Daddy doesn't hate it."  Fishing for a compliment I said, "I think it makes my eyes look bluer."  She wrinkled her nose and said, "Maybe, but you'd have to get your hair out of your eyes first.  Your bangs are too long."

She wasn't being rude or anything, she just doesn't really say unnecessarily complimentary things.  My mom has never complimented my looks before.  I know because they have been complimented so rarely that I remember every time.  Except with Kelley because she does it repeatedly on a daily basis.  KELLEY YOU ARE FIXING MY SOUL WITH YOUR OVERLY KIND WORDS.

One time I overheard that guy I dated when I was seventeen telling a mutual friend "she's so pretty!" and when he saw me standing there he blushed and tried to shut the door on me.  And one time my Frenchman called me "guapa," which was incredibly adorable of him.  This is why I love the dragueurs so much and the ooh là làs.  Also Mikele told me I had sexy eyes.  There.  That's every compliment that has ever been paid to me by a male human.

However.  The thing is.  I don't know where the line is between confident and vain.

There are pictures of me that I really like.  Usually I try to credit things like the lipstick I'm wearing or the fake lashes or whatever.  My brain keeps rejecting those pictures I posted the other day because I don't believe that I wasn't sucking my gut in, but I really wasn't.  I think I wasn't.  I remember forcing myself not to.  But that can't really be what I look like when I'm relaxed.  So I said it was because I was wearing a great bra.  I really don't see that body when I look in the mirror.  If I did, this would be a lot easier for me.

I recently lost fifty pounds, as most of you know.  That's about, what, 22 kilos or something?  It's a LOT of weight.  A huge difference.  I've always considered myself vastly overweight.  It was always my defining feature in my mind.  But I think I've always been wrong.  I think I've blown it way out of proportion due to my insecurities.

Today I really liked my outfit and I kept running to look at myself in the mirror before I left to work.  And at work I went to the bathroom to check it out.  I was hoping my mom would say something about it when she saw it, but she didn't.  Well, she asked why I was wearing knee socks if I had gone through the trouble of using an epilator.  I told her I just liked them, but actually it's one part Patrice Maktav tribute and five parts to hide the tattoo she doesn't know I have.  It's just not in her nature to bestow unnecessary compliments.  She's not cold or mean by any stretch of the imagination, just... practical, I guess.  She hasn't ever felt good about her own looks, so she doesn't point out others' features either.

I like my haircut, I like my outfit, I like being a little bit overly friendly with customers and watching the tip jar overflow.

My new hair color makes me feel really confident.  It's vixen hair and I'm a little bit obsessed with it.

Look at my hairrrrr

 
and my sonic screwdrivers

I was going to take a picture of my outfit today just because I liked it and it looked hot but I couldn't think of any justification for posting it.  I felt like it would look vain just to post a picture of myself for no reason.  The sonic screwdrivers feature in that picture up there just because I wanted a reason to post a better picture of my new hair color, so I did it under the guise of showing off my sonic screwdrivers.

This paranoia of vanity is only crippling me.

I want to get this obsession with self image sorted in the next twenty-seven days.

TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS!!!  That is such a short time!

In unrelated news, today I decided to get a new phone number when I get back to France.  There are two people from whom I no longer wish to receive texts, both of them... unbalanced... fans.  I'll text my new number to the people who won't cause me drama.

BYE OLD PHONE NUMBER!  BYE OLD LIFE!

I am gonna be Ehreen and I am gonna be such a badass.  With vixen hair, an epilator, and two sonic screwdrivers.

So there I was, zooming through the Alsacien night in a taxi, alone now that we'd deposited Bénédicte at her hotel, reeking slightly of Mikelangelo Loconte's cologne.  When I finally arrived at the Troupe's hotel there was quite a crowd there, which confused the poor taxi driver to death since it was one o'clock in the morning at this point.

I leapt out of the cab and pounced on Lara and Joanna, my first question being--  "DID I MISS MAKTAV???"

Joanna seemed ready to turn in for the night; she said Yep, Maktav had already come by.  I looked to Lara with giant puppy dog eyes of fangirl despair and she said "But he said he'd come back out to see you!"

WAIT WHAT?

( Read more... )

I'm gonna knit Maktav a TARDIS hat.

I'm thinking about maybe going to Cardiff over Halloween weekend in an attempt to see Doctor Who live...  Especially since there's no classes that Monday.  My friends are going to Astérix on Friday night, so that'd give me Saturday to get there, Sunday to see the show, and Monday to come back.  I'd also obviously have to see that big wharf-y bay place and jump up and down on that sidewalk and see if I went down to the Torchwood hub and all that good fannish stuff.

After I sat out of the Les Mis birthday party I realised that I need to get up off my shrinking butt and do some stuff, and fast!  So this is a wavery little plan I've been contemplating since last night.  It'll be kind of a shame to go it alone, but no one around me loves Doctor Who enough to join in.  KELLEY WO BIST DU??  THE SHOW OPENS WITH AN OOD.  AN OOD.  AND THERE ARE CYBERMEN.  AND AN OOOOOD.

When I stop being so lazy I plan to check on things like... other stuff to see in Cardiff... and all that.  And also cheap housing of some kind.  But right now all I can think is OOOD I mean let's do this!  Also gotta talk to my financial sponsor... my mother, that is.

I JUST REALLY WANT TO CARVE A PUMPKIN AND START TROLLING EBAY FOR PIECES TO CREATE THE MOST EPIC COSTUME FRANKLIN STREET HAS EVER SEEN.  But it is not to be.  Still, someone whose class ends when the bells of Notre Dame strike five shouldn't really be complaining about anything, I guess.

Anyway, all this depends on getting tickets.

 I made up a theory!  And it's, like, not that I've adopted someone else's theory or that I'm expanding upon a theory I've previously read.  I thought this through and it's entirely my theory that I came up with!  I feel like such a smartypants.

( THIS IS A SPOILER, SARAI )

AHHhhhh you guys.  I admit, waiting for all these loose ends to resolve is slightly more thought-provoking than waiting for the Daleks to exterminate everybody in RTD era.

BUT I am far less terrified about the TO. BE. CONTINUED. than I was when Ten was regenerating that last time.  That was scary as a mofo!  Rusty was at his evil best when he invented that cliffhanger.  Man that was a long week.

I'm freaking out, y'all.

I know everything's going to be fine, really I do, but every time I think about this my nervous stomach starts going mental.  It happened a little before the Québec trip, but the difference was the Québec trip was train-based and I effing love trains.  Airports terrify me and I have this whole thing about how I could miss a flight during my weird Laguardia/JFK switchoff and how they could lose my luggage with all my favourite outfits inside and it's driving me a little mental.  I also get airsick but I bought Bonine and have 18 pills so that should take care of that.  I've downloaded a bunch of audiobooks read by David Tennant and Kelley's loaning me her sleep mask and I even bought things like Wet Ones and those disposable toothbrush things because the internet said they'd make the flight more bearable.

Also my motherflipping sewing machine, which has been good to me for a year and successfully sewed through EIGHT LAYERS OF CANVAS about a month ago, had a panic attack and started bunching up the thread while I was hemming the sashes.  I could... I dunno... glue them or just cut the remaining ones (three and a half left) with my pinking shears.  I feel really bad about that, especially since I'm making people pay for the stupid things and now they're so blatantly subpar.

I finished watching Desperate Housewives and I *adore* it.  Six years and that show seemed to be getting better as it went on.  How you like that, Lost and Heroes?  Enjoy cancellation.  And... over-ness.

See, whenever I get too nervous I unconsciously distract myself.  Sashes and Desperate Housewives.  I know I have to think about this and, like I said, I really genuinely believe everything will go swimmingly.  But I can't help freaking out.  Airport security is way too intimidating in my mind.  Not that I'm doing anything wrong--heck, when I flew to Mexico with my youth group in high school I brought plastic knitting needles on the plane and no one said a word!  It's just... so many things could go wrong.  Things that would be beyond my control.

I got black Chucks today!  I feel like an emo when I put them on, but then I tell myself that I'm supporting Ten somehow and feel better about it.

The new series of Doctor Who... I don't know.  I haven't really actively disliked an episode.  In fact, I started out loving every minute of it.  I adore Eleven--even more than Ten, though obviously not more than David Tennant--but I just can't make myself care about anybody else.  I really wanted to like Amy Pond, but... all she does is purse her lips and widen her eyes.  I guess it's because Karen Gillan isn't a good actress.  I have no interest in her character.  The only time I liked her was when she saved that star whale.  I was starting to care about Rory, too, but we saw how that ended.  And it's not just Karen Gillan!  I got the feeling I was supposed to like Nesrene or whatever her name was, but I just... didn't give a crap.  This is not how I am supposed to feel about Doctor Who.  Doctor Who is the show that gave me Chantho and Jabe and Harriet Jones Prime Minister and Zachary Cross Flame.  The only character I ever hated was River Song (and I don't think I've ever hated any character as much as I hate her) but in the new series she comes across as tolerable somehow.  And no, I don't think it's because she's being written any differently: she's still smug, condescending, obnoxiously flirty, rude to the Doctor, and has done nothing to earn my respect.  I assume the change in characters and casting can be attributed to Stephen Moffat, but I keep reminding myself that this is the man who wrote Billy Shipton and Sally Sparrow and, uh duh, CAPTAIN JACK.  So why does everyone suck now?  I want to be as happy with Doctor Who as I used to be.  Yes, Rusty's plots were bombastic and ridiculous and heavily-flawed, but I'd gladly exchange the problem of flat, uninteresting, poorly-acted characters for another End of Time part one.  (I don't know if I could handle something as bad as Love and Monsters again... but, come to think of it, I love Elton and Ursula.  And Jackie Tyler, obviously!)

...and I've successfully distracted myself again.  Anyway, it's almost six in the morning.  I should invest in some sleep.

Well, that was an experience.

My yesterday started as perhaps the worst day in the world.  New developments in hall drama, though not directly involving me, were upsetting my friends (Parissss when can I move in with you where it's safe?), my computer got YET ANOTHER blue screen of death (apparently something is bad wrong with my video driver, so I'm just gonna have to suck it up and let the university guys install Windows 7 on my laptop to see what happens), I was about to take an exam for which I was grossly underpreparded (hadn't even been to the class in almost three months), and then... anything else?  Oh yeah, the mothereffing jewellery store FIRED ME.

( Pissiness about that )

Well, I got the call from the jewellery store around noon and my exam was at four.  I cried for a while, took a shower, cried a little more, and then watched the Rifftrax version of New Moon to calm myself down.  Still I was miserable.  So miserable, in fact, that I put on a t-shirt for the first time all semester.  That's right--I was in a t-shirt mood.  And for me, that is NOT GOOD.

So I dragged myself off to my exam (not hideously bad, but I'm really only hoping for a C at this point), then to an extra credit event for my remaining French class (realised that all my former French professors hate me now... because I'm a terrible student, yayy), and then I had a dinner planned with two of my friends as a belated birthday thing.  I was so not in the mood for this, but they'd been planning it with me for several weeks and I knew they were really excited, so I called my hometown friend Stacyfacy, steeled myself, and tried to put on a game face. 

On the way to one of the friends' car, she asked if we could stop by the Battle House (a kind of community house thing for kids involved with the Baptist Campus Ministry or something... like a sorority house for Christian kids, but no one lives there, I guess) to grab some stuff.  I said sure.  I sulked along, and right as I was grumbling about how no one cares about Solal when they could be watching an interview with Flo or Mikele, I looked up and saw this:

 

And, peering from the windows of the Battle House, all the people I love (all of my favourite dorm friends [that is, the ones who have never made me cry myself to sleep], my friends from my home town [including Stacyfacy, to whom I'd just been talking on the phone], my favourite person from the old version of my cinema job, and my mother!).  The whole dinner was a giant setup for a surprise birthday party.

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My mind is still blown.