magic kingdom my ass

the moment i stepped onto the gangway from the plane i was unmistakably in florida. the smell of wet toilet paper and hot asphalt hit me in the face like a slap. as i headed toward the tram, weaving through the fanny-packed masses, i saw a classic type-two diabetic woman walking through the airport with a video camera. on. why she was capturing the beating heart of the airport remains a mystery. the smells - BO, grease and grass kept coming as i headed to baggage claim and i wondered for the millionth time how the disney empire keeps reeling them in year after year. this place, quite simply, is a cesspool.

taking two flights to get here was a necessary (financial) evil, but i will try really hard not to have to do it again. i slept for only a couple of hours - partly due to a greedy seatmate who wanted to indulge in the spoils of first class - yes, they serve a meal, but why are you hungry at midnight? go to sleep you pig! and partly due to a catterwauling infant. (when cleaning out my desk i found some united first class upgrade certificates. no idea where/when they're from, but i plan to make full use whenever possible.)i had to stop in chicago for a couple of hours and couldn't get to sleep again on the second flight. for some reason, the flight pattern out of seattle was one i don't think i've seen before. we must have headed pretty directly east, and the night was very clear. the snaking highways were still busy at 11:30 when we took off, and the clusters of lights looked artfully scattered...kind of like beading on a dress. says ms. one track mind. speaking of, today my mom handed me some stuff to put in the washer, called me madam and then corrected herself and called me mademoiselle. i realized that i'm almost a madam. when people call me ma'am - one year exactly from today - it will be accurate, if not flattering. disturbing.

last night was a challenge. in addition to me being exhausted, we got into a conversation that didn't go as i'd hoped - nor as she would have hoped, frankly. i'm left, as always where my family is concerned, in a position where doing what i feel is right will hurt someone i care about. not doing it will unfortunately have the same effect. and i made her cry. kind of uncontrollably. it was not pretty. we left things somewhat unsettled, but not really.

bury the ending - six feet under

can you spoil a post in a blog no one reads? whatever - fans of SFU - consider yourself warned.

i was prepared for a little sentimentality...i even welcomed it. while it was odd to suddenly kind of hate rico and vanessa - were they buzzards or what? it was nice to see david confront his demons, even if they were a little too literal. i liked that ruth and claire finally stopped fighting for shrew of the year and that ruth set claire loose. i thought ruth's transformation from catatonic to insightful, warm matron was a little fast, but george, historically, has inspired a lot of personality changes in her. i even accepted nate's 180 on willa, andthe fact that you know but never really know that maggie must certainly be carrying his child.

but that ending. the montage. unbelievably bad. all of them - was that the *same* wig? and did it originally belong to the crypt keeper? all white and futuristic...and still utter schlock. brenda at some wedding fat and pregnant again with stock handsome normal guy next to her? yeah - he's the kind of guy who'd be dating a single mother of 2...that guy wouldn't last 5 minutes in a room with billy, the mother and olivier. and was there a shot of another where an all-grown-up anthony is all buff and seated next to a buff asian guy? come on. and claire would never marry ted. rob pointed out that he was certainly banging a stripper before she even got on the highway (and the 10?)and she would have found some hot skinny indie artist in NY to curl her toes. horrifically lame.

unblocked

so i sat down last night and wrote the ceremony for patti and greg's wedding. i'll post it here after saturday - i don't want her to see it before then. not that anyone is reading anyway. it's a little strange to write somewhere for public viewing and know that no one even knows i'm here (or cares, i guess is better) kind of like high school... :)

it's ok...the whole notion that you can really be validated by strangers is kind of foreign to me anyway - so for now - anonymity is fine. i started this blog in the first place because when i start school i want to document it. since it's culinary school, i think my posts will likely appeal to a certain demographic, and maybe i'll add the url to an email sig line at that point. this next month it's pretty much just practice. it's amazing how completely my writing skills have deteriorated while working in finance...i'm hopeful that sustained practice will get me back on track.

the industry of sham

patti's last fitting was yesterday and when we were in last i decided to book myself an appointment - you know, just to see. first off, it's hot as fuck inside those dresses. the one i liked best was 2 piece and heavy silk. i may need to severely dehydrate if i end up with that one. looks like i may be va-va-bride after all. it was pretty hot, i have to say. i only tried on 3 or 4 - i need to pace myself, and really, it's kind of easy to be over it. you look really bridey and all, and that is the point, but i started to feel like a doll i had when i was a kid. i can't remember what they were called, but you basically snapped these hard plastic outfits on top of her. when i'm down to my thong and shoes about 4 minutes after meeting some girl and i'm handing her my skirt...i don't know. at least they should offer drinks. actually, i was totally surprised by what looked best on me. i don't know how they do it, but even simple dresses are cut really well and look super flattering. i think maybe there was some vaseline on the mirrors or some kind of scent pumped into the air. if all clothes were built by the bridal industry, we'd all look totally hot. of course, we'd also need someone to dress us. isn't it a little strange that the last time you get dressed as a single woman, someone else has to help you? it's like even the independence you take for granted is called into question - juust when you need it most. i blame the industry.

all fixed

rob and i were talking about me quitting this morning. he brought up a good point - when you're close to being done with something, it gets easier to do. the pressure comes off, you're more able to enjoy the feeling of accomplishment, or the relief or whatever.

it just seems so cruel that only at the end do we actually see things without that feeling of oppression. why can't i harness that feeling all the time? it's not as though the work product is really any different at the end...sometimes it's better. when i have a sinkful of dishes or a huge pile of laundry - i'm not sloppier with the last glass - i feel pleased that the sink is empty and i don't even think of resenting the glass or that i have to clean it. in fact, by the time i'm nearly done, i'm lingering. i'm lovingly making sock rolls or scouring the sink. it's pretty stupid. is it the mere thought of obligation, but not the job itself? maybe it's not a fair analogy, with real work it makes a little more sense. a job seems endless. one day bleeds into the next and you pathetically find yourself excited for the weekend like you're a character in a third-rate 80's song.

it's the samenss that's so crushing. but as i mentioned yesterday, i'm a little depressed to leave.
so where does that leave me besides, apparently, fated to misery? maybe i have a subconscious resistance to change. i always feel more warmly toward something i'm about to leave. i think it's because somehow i'm doubting that i'm doing the right thing. i think i'm looking for reassurance that i'm doing the wrong thing. that way i guess i have an out. i can give up and maintain the comfort of the status quo. that totally sucks. do i really secretly feel that unhappy sameness is better than risk - regardless of the potential outcome? good thing i locked my subconscious in the bathroom while i quit my job. when did i get so scared of being scared? is this something a poltergeist marathon can cure? maybe i should take a couple of blindfolded runs through a razor factory, or eat some raw chicken or... quit my safe corporate job and go to culinary school. hey, i'm doing that. super, i'm perfect now.

fear and freedom

i send out these emails at work to a mailing list. since i've decided to quit, i've gotten more and more brazen about editorializing them. i've been sending them out for years and almost never got a comment. in the last year, i've started having a little fun with them and started noticing that each time i send them out, i get new subscribers. i've been stopped in the cafeteria by the CEO, and sent emails by a couple of SVPs who tell me how much they love them. today i got so many positive comments, i'm regretting not being even ballsier. it's amazing how liberating it is not to worry about job security, and ironic that cattiness is universally entertaining.

yesterday i was in the elevator with someone i used to work more closely with - back when i was a secretary. as she chatted and pretended to listen, i realized how angry i am with her. she used to invite me to parties, and we'd go out for drinks every now and then. once i changed jobs and never heard from her again, i realized she'd pretended to be my friend when it suited her, and once i no longer had the ear of someone in power, she dropped me like an old shoe. there's really nothing like changing jobs from powerful to scrub to find out who your friends are. oddly, it really had nothing to do with level - some VPs still treat me like a human and some were all too eager to talk shit about me the minute i changed jobs. it's just kind of disappointing to find that someone you thought liked you - who you liked - and who was more or less a peer - was just using you to get in with your boss. she totally played me. i'm really looking forward to a change of pace. that pace will undoubtedly be hot, dangerous and stressful. sounds terrific. at least it's real. i can't get beyond the feeling that nothing i do at work matters at all. i'm terrified to leave, and as the end approaches, i like my boss better, don't feel as bothered by the work, and generally find myself painting a rosier portrait than it deserves. it's good that everyone knows i'm leaving and i've been training a replacement. no turning back...

3M products & prayer

I have to go get a school uniform. It will be my first. I'm going to have to see if I can find (at some point) gear that's not as miserably unflattering as what I'll be stuck with initially. Pegged pants, thick white jacket...Hot Hot Hot!

I guess it can't all be like Saturday night. I threw caution to the wind and bought a very expensive, but utterly gorgeous dress a couple weeks ago. Since this summer will see 3 weddings, I needed a dress to wear to 2 of them, and I've borrowed a dress for Patti's. So I took this dress to be altered, since it gaps a bit in front, and I wanted to avoid a Janet Jackson moment. I picked it up Friday and the gapping was still a problem. I should actually take it back to them, because I think they messed the straps up a little - but whatever, it's a pretty rocking dress anyway. I hunted and found double stick tape - which, despite both of our skepticism - worked! The wedding was ok, the ceremony would definitely have been more meaningful if we'd been able to see anything - a huge downside of such a casual ceremony was that shorties like me got the shaft. I just saw a few guests holding their cameras over the heads of other guests.

there were 2 fantastic parts about the wedding, both male; one was named Marvin, and the other was Alan. Marvin, date of the bride's mother, was lighting joints and generally getting trashed. He was so messed up later in the evening, that he was unable to sit still. Pleasing, if Mel Brooksian. Alan was a different story. A Christopher Walkenish guy, he oozed personality and dropped names and details like he was trying to impress. There was something alluring, but sinister about him...Maybe it was the Tony Sopranoesqueness of him. There may be a pair of concrete shoes in the trunk of Alan's car - but I had a great time talking to him. The cake was good too. Lisa and I danced and did running kicks in the driveway. Something about that dress made me feel totally free and happy. Worth the money.