Endless Summer

The days are cool and the nights are getting cold... where did summer go?  It feels like it was just June... I hardly even remember July.  August is a blur (a fun blur), and now September is more than half-way through.  I must be getting old if time is flying by at this rate.  I remember being a child and every week seemed like an eternity.  The months felt like years back then.  I don't want summer to end... I don't know if I can survive another brutal NYC winter.  They're so depressing.  I love the holidays, and the first couple of snowfalls, but by the time January rolls around I want to either run away to an exotic island or kill myself because of how depressing and ugly this city is.  Don't get me wrong.. I love Fall, but it lasts about a month and then the leaves are gone and the nights are 30 degrees.  I am already gearing up for Halloween- I purchased my replica of the t-shirt that Axl Rose wore when he played Wembley from Ebay.  I can't fucking wait... it's going to be great.  I was supposed to be starting my Halloween diet in preparation for wearing nothing more than a pair of white, boxer-briefs and t-shirt, but a little trip upstate this weekend sabotaged my efforts.  Oh well, It's a new dawn, it's a new day, and I'm feeling goooooooddddd..... lol.  Not really, I feel emo as fuck today.

My job search is futile.  I'm starting to think my best bet would be to make my way to the local witch craft-voodoo store and purchase some black magic candles and a book of incantations.  Perhaps I would have better luck securing a job if I sold my soul to the Devil....

Will I ever be able to buy myself anything nice ever again?  My poor Jeffrey Campbells have seen better days.... and I need a new winter coat.  Oh, and a new Fall wardrobe.  Sigh.   I suppose I'll keep dreaming.

The only good thing about my job (apart from all of the great people I work with- and no, that is NOT sarcasm, I really do love the people I work with), was the fact that my schedule was fairly consistent from week to week and also conducive to my boyfriend's work schedule.  Now that my schedule has been completely changed, I really have more motivation to find another job.  Seriously though- I haven't worked an opening shift since the beginning of January.  I'm so used to working 1-10pm or 3pm-12am (during floor updates) that my sleeping habits consist of staying up until 3am and sleeping in until 11am.  I am being forced to open and work mid-day shifts now, which means waking up at 6am to be there by 8am.  Good luck with that- I'm quite positive no one is going to want to work with me since I'll be half-asleep and a cunty bitch at that hour.  Maybe I just won't go to sleep at all and I will stay up all night... that actually seems like the best option.  I should probably work on procuring an adderall prescription to help fuel me.

Seriously though- my boyfriend works all weekend... basically 48 hours straight.  The only day we generally have off together is Sunday.  The time we spend during the work week is usually when we are both out of work between like 11pm or 12am for a few hours before passing out.  If I have to start regularly waking up at 6am, I will never see my boyfriend.  I already hate my job, so having my relationship go to shit as a result of my job is not even an option for me.   I might just have to run away with a Colombian drug lord.. I don't know.  In a moment of pure, unadulterated insanity and frustration yesterday afternoon, I briefly considered donating my eggs.  Well, I ruled out egg donation today after I read that one woman who donated her eggs gained 17 lbs in three days as a result of ovarian hyperstimulation.  Ummm... If I gained 17 lbs in three days, I'm pretty sure I'd jump from the balcony.  If I gained 5 lbs in three days I'd probably freak out. Jk.  But seriously... what the fuck?!  Plus I read that some other woman's artery burst during the egg harvesting procedure and she died.  Yikes.  Plus, thinking about it, I don't want some bastard children of mine running amok in this world.  I don't really think the world needs any Kelsey offspring.  One of me is quite enough ;)  I also ruled out prostitution and stripping after considering STDs, losing my boyfriend, and having my friends and family disown me.  Sigh...

I don't know.  I'm at the end of my rope here.  I'm going to look into copyrighting my book today and then I guess I will spend the rest of my day applying to more jobs.  The cycle is truly endless.  Maybe I should start going to church and praying as my grandma suggested ;)

I spent last Sunday upstate with my boyfriend- it was a great micro-escape from the city.  I think I need a permanent vacation though.  I'm a different person when I don't have to go into the job I hate.  It's like Jekyll and Hyde.  I am so much more relaxed, sweet to those around me, happy, smiley, motivated, and fun.

Having spent my entire childhood and young adult like growing up in  Upstate NY, I am no stranger to the beauty of small town living and communities.  However, I have a new appreciation for it now that I live in a rat-infested, garbage/piss scented city filled with insane homeless vagrants and the scum of the earth.  This past Sunday we spent in Narrowsburg was so relaxing.  The woman we airbnb-ed the house from was great.  The little cabin we rented was fucking awesome- it was in the middle of nowhere, and it was beautiful.  I didn't even give a shit that the two local restaurants were closed by the time we decided to get dinner at 7pm.  We drove to another small town, Callicoon, and had an awesome dinner at this restaurant called Peppinos.  Seriously though- you don't appreciate the upstate price of dining out until you've spent way too many nights dropping $16 for one cocktail and $30 for an entree in the city.

$12 for this chicken parm... salad included.  God Bless Upstate.  Upstate lover 4Lyfe.

The cabin had a claw-foot bathtub.  I was in heaven.  If I owned a claw foot tub, I'd never come out.  I'd have coffee in there, champagne in there, and sleep in there too. 

This was the view outside of the cabin.  You never quite appreciate the nature you grew up in until it is no longer part of your daily life.  There is nothing like breathing in fresh air and seeing wild flowers and open fields after months of breathing in the scent of hobo excrement on the subways and the rotting heaps of garbage lining the streets on a hot day...  I only hope that some day I can afford a place in the country where I can go whenever I need a break. 

Fuzzy bumble bee... it's the simple things people. 

Sadly for us, I had work at 1pm Monday, so we were forced to leave the next morning.  Nothing beats diner prices upstate.  Seriously though.  I love walking in and seeing all of the older, local regulars having coffee and chatting with each other, and the waitress knows them all by name.  It reminds me of the S&S cafe in Bainbridge.  I love that sense of community you have in a small town.  Plus you really can't beat a lumberjack sized breakfast for only $6.75. 

The stretch of highway 97 along the Delaware River Valley was like a scene straight out of a movie.  It was so scenic we had to stop for some photos.  I want to go back for another couple solid weeks of no cell service, campfires at night, and $7 chicken tender baskets for breakfast (yep, that's right.. chicken tenders and fries for breakfast). 

I am so desperate for another job I have even been looking at serving jobs.  I know I said when I quit Highline I would never serve again, since it is such a degrading job at times, but at this rate, I'd probably be making better money and have better hours than I have now.  I just can't leave the benefits and comp days I have at my current position.   Why doesn't anyone prepare you for this when you're young?  If I ever have kids (which I don't think I will ;p ), I will make sure to tell them that life isn't about how hard you work or what a good person you are and sugar-coat shit by telling them they 'can be whatever they want to be as long as they work hard.'  I'll tell them it's who you know, who your parents are, what connections you have, how hot you are and which private school you get your degree from.  God I'm so cynical today.  I guess I should just have some more coffee, keep listening to this soothing French music on Pandora, and apply to about 50 more jobs in the hopes that I hear back from at least one.  Imagine what will become of this blog when I actually find a job someday???? I'll have no more material to even write about! LOL.   Unfortunately, I have no slutty selfies to share today either.  I'm sure I'll be posting some when I get my sick "kill your idols" Guns n' Roses tee in the mail... so stay tuned.  I know my slutty selfies make this piece of shit blog everything it is. jk. hahahahaha.  ugh.  I'm insane. 

Candid Candidness

I didn't know "candidness" was actually a word... Must be the combination of antibiotics and tylenol PM.

I'm sitting here alone, having applied to about 8 different jobs today- all of which required various tweaks to my cover letter and resume... do you have any fucking idea how time consuming it is to change your resume and cover letter that many times?!  I didn't work today, because I woke up more of a mess than usual.  In addition to the ten bug bites I have on just one foot alone,  I also have pink eye and a UTI... typical.  My immune system fucking hates me.  Probably because all I ate today was chips and salsa and two meatballs.  My mother would NOT approve.  "Kelsey, you need to take better care of yourself.  Kelsey, you really should be taking vitamin-C supplements...."

If I don't get a paid writing job soon (or any other job for that matter) my soul will surely die.  I can't go on.  I literally can NOT go on.  My only consolation right now is Thom Yorke.   I think he must be my favorite lyricist of all time... I feel like he gets me in my lowest moments of despair, loneliness, and desperation.  Then again, he's a musician, and as I've said before, musicians are better actors than actors are.  So who knows if Thom Yorke has ever actually felt the words he sings.  Whatever- I'd still marry him.  Even with his wonky eye.   ;)  I love me some misfits ;)

Seriously though.  It's been a rough week and it's Thursday.  Lately, my weeks seem to have no beginning and no end.  I had planned a three day weekend (of sorts- technically Sunday, Monday, Tuesday) off with my boyfriend.  We originally intended to go away... that plan was ruined when he had to work Sunday.  Oh well.  Maybe next time....

I think my job is taking a real tole on me.  My stress levels are out of the roof (hence my non-existent immune system), I find myself crying almost daily because of my job... although the triggers are absurd little things.  Like last Friday, I started balling over a national geographic documentary that showed a starving penguin chick who was abandoned by his parents and isolated by the rest of the colony.  Tonight, an article about a special needs child who had no friends to sit with at the lunch table was enough to make me cry.  Dude.... I need to get out of this fucking rut....

I find myself taking my frustrations about my job out in other areas of my life.  I find that when my job situation gets bad, I push my body to the limit.  I really should take better care of myself I suppose.  I start going berserk over every little thing that upsets me.  I blew a fuse the other day because my boyfriend is hiring yet another bottle server that is already employed as a model (legit model- signed with legit agency).  I don't know why.  I don't know if it's my own insecurities, or the fact that I bust my ass working 40 hours a week at a job I hate and making hardly enough money to get by, while these girls get hired solely on a basis of how hot they are and walk away with $800-$1000 for two nights of work.  I just can't.  I can't.  The feminist in me blows up every fucking time.  It's been increasingly hard trying to tell myself that it's just his job and doesn't effect me.

I need a vacation... like, a legit vacation... somewhere warm. with a beach. and no telephone.

My Week in a Nutshell: The Average life of the Average 20-something New York Girl

Friday and Saturday nights are spent scrubbing my apartment, making fabulous and painstakingly long meals, and hanging out solo on the terrace contemplating the meaning of my existence.  They are also reserved for writing blogs, working on my book, or being emo and listening to Bush/Radiohead while having a good cry over the fact that I hate my job and am alone on a Saturday night. 

During my work week, I try to keep my chin up by savoring each lunch break and the few hours of free time I have after I get out of hell.  Breaks at work are usually spent phoning half the people in my contacts list to talk to, despite the fact that 3/4 of the people I call don't pick up.  I usually resort to begging my mother to send me pictures of my son.  Whenever I get a picture of Bijou, my day is instantaneously made better no matter how much I would like to get clipped by a taxi than return to work.  How could that little, pink nose and those green eyes not make anyone day's better?! 

During the work week, my daily uniform consists of boyfriend jeans and some juvenile shirt.  This one reads "Dibs on the drummer"- Goddamn I am a sophisticated woman!!!! Not.... I look like a sloppy 15 year old (with fine lines and wrinkles), courtesy of the clothes I am required to buy for the job that I hate.  I try to make my daily uniform as sexy and 'me' as possible by wearing the lowest, crotch-grazing pants I can find and tiniest tops possible.  I mean, if I can't wear eyeliner or heels, I'm going to have to sex it up somehow... I'm no child afterall.  FML.  I need a new job.  I can't bear the agony any longer...

I will randomly visit my boyfriend at his place of work if I get out of my job early enough...I think I was already intoxicated before leaving the premises, hence the photo I snapped in the back hallway while waiting for my friend to be cut.  I love this place even when I hate it.  Visiting always makes me feel like I'm home... even though I hate it.  Did I mention how much I love/hate this place? 

Days off that that are not spent hanging with other people are generally spent in the solitary confinement of my apartment. These rare days off and alone are usually spent searching for better jobs for hours at a clip, babysitting my niece for a couple of hours, and usually end with me playing dress up to make myself feel better about my life after I find I'm still wearing my sweats at 4pm and have no makeup on.  Nothing makes me more prone to binge eating all day than wearing some oversize sweats.  In fact, I sometimes like to walk around in underwear and heels when I'm home alone just so I wont devour an entire bag of Cheetos at my computer.   After spending about two hours on Craigslist, I like to faux-tan myself and put on a huge hat and heels to cheer up.  It always works. 

Random weeknights are the best time of the week to go out and get tanked. And believe me, I need to get drunk at least once a week to forget how much I loathe my job.   This here bar stool is covered in genuine cowhide, and last summer it gave me the biggest health scare of my life when I developed a rash all over my thighs and ass cheeks after wearing a pair of culotte shorts and sitting on it all evening.   

When you can't go to Electric Room because you came straight form work and are wearing converse, the next best place to go is Bar Bar with your girlfriends... many, many fond memories here (getting roofied, sharing secrets, etc) ... this was my Thursday night. 

After spending the majority of my week in ripped jeans and sneakers with no make up and a white-girl afro, I start to feel really unappealing... especially if I walk by the  Dream Hotel on my way to Highline, where there are approximately 40 model-like escorts wearing their pumps and herve leger dresses on any given night.  When everyone you pass is infinitely thinner, prettier, and taller than you and you're sweaty, sporting a fro, and wearing beat up keds, your self confidence can really start to wane.  

When you find yourself feeling like a frumpy dumpster, and you start to feel less than adequate in the looks department, or if you're having flashbacks of your ugly past, it's good to throw on some booty shorts and take a couple of selfies to remind yourself that you aren't as ugly or as socially awkward as you used to be, and even if you have to dress like a frumpy dumpster 5 days out of 7, remind yourself you can be just as hot as any prostitute standing outside of Tao... 

Whenever I'm drunk, I find beauty and inspiration in bathroom wall graffiti and random stickers on sidewalks.  Dive Bars never fail to disappoint in this arena.  Some of the truest words of wisdom are often scrolled on the back doors of bathroom stalls and on the sidewalks of Williamsburg.  They are always way more touching and speak to your drunken soul in a way they would never speak to your sober soul.  

If I do go out on a Friday or Saturday night, I usually have to be extremely careful because I'm far more inclined to get out of control and/or angry if something little sets me off.  This little doodle should have been an omen and was most certainly a forewarning as to the disaster that was about to become of my night.  

I like to take photos that remind me of people, places, and things to keep in my phone for a rainy day.  In order to snap this beauty, I had to pile two milk-crates, one on top of the other, and climb up to be more level with this advertisement.  New York is also great for collectors.  One night, I took home a chunk of sidewalk for example... it's fun to wake up and wonder how a huge chunk of concrete made it's way into your purse, or 5 packets of bar matches, or a weird drawing on a napkin.  

Sundays are ***hopefully** spent off from work and getting fat on $70 worth of imported cheeses or making some extravagant five-star like meal at home with my boyfriend.  I also like to drink wine on Sundays. Sundays are notoriously the best day of the week to go out too- you don't have to deal with the bridge and tunnel types that are only in for Friday and Saturday nights and all of the boring, business types with normal weekends-off scheduling.  There is nothing better than a $17 gin and tonic on the much-overrated Wythe Hotel rooftop, or $22 cocktail in the Meatpacking district (jk- obviously).  When Sunday rolls around, and you've seen yet another person on your FB feed is engaged, bought a house, newly married, pregnant, or just had another child, it is nice to relish the fact that I have none of the above going on, and thusly I can go out, get wild, and generally act irresponsible and make childish and irrational decisions and celebrate my lack of obligations and responsibilities, and commitments like the average NYC 20-something.