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Samantha is downstairs selling off the furniture her mother left her. Not because she doesn’t like it, or doesn’t need it. She does like it and she does need it. But she needs the money more.

If you look at our financial situation, Samantha’s money situation mirrors mine. It takes both of us to bring in about $1500 a month to pay all of our bills and to by food and gas. I am roughly bringing in about $600-900 a month currently. In fact, the only groceries I could afford this week was a bunch of bananas and a Lean Cuisine meal. I bought more food for Pye-D than I did for myself. And the cupboards are getting bare.

I find that many people who are recent college grads are having a hard time finding a job. Most (like myself) can rely on Mom and Dad to bail them out. While I can rely on my parents, I don’t want to. I hate the idea of moving back in with them, although that is fast become a reality that I am going to have to succumb to. I feel like I should be an adult and Yet I can’t.

Samantha doesn’t have the options I have. With both parents gone and little family, there is no one who can support her and her bills. In a month I am going to help her move the rest of her mother’s things out of storage (as she can no longer afford the $180 a month for the two storage units) and into a shed in her aunt’s backyard. One that will hopefully fit everything in it. However, I predict that if she doesn’t find a job soon, most of those items will be up for sale soon.

I hate credit cards and credit scores. I hate the increase price of heating gas and electricity. I hate that while my car insurance is decreasing, my renters insurance is not. I hate my cell phone company and basically any other bill I have to pay. I hate the increasing price of food, especially healthy food (ever notice how cheap unhealthy food is?).

Even though I have balanced my budget and have been trying to conserve what I can it is still not enough.

Lesson learned. While I hate to budget, I still have to do it.

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When I started this blog 2 months ago, it seemed I had a purpose. Other than a grade for a class, it was simply my journey to graduation. And now that I have graduated it seems like my blog doesn’t really have purpose anymore, other than just a place to store my ramblings and rantings.

And I realize that moving back in with my parents in the next couple of months is a depressing realization and depressing to read about. I think it would be almost blog suicide. And as depressing as it is, its 10 times more unattractive. I am beginning to feel like the spinster of the family. Yet for me and many of my friends it’s a growing reality.

So what is my purpose in for this blog and about life in general? FIND A GROWN-UP JOB!!! I really, really need to find a big girl job and fast, so that I can avoid or shorten the time I live with my parents. So for the time being, my rantings and ramblings will pertinate to the job search, living with my parents, and anything else I find amusing, interesting and/or frustrating. Enjoy!

Saturday morning I graduated!!!! I now have a Master of Arts in Communications!!! Weird . . .huh?

For the first time, graduation became surreal and abstract. This was my third graduation ceremony. I find it hard that I have mastered anything. So I find it even harder that now I have a hood and a diploma to prove this. It’s as if there is now a weight upon me. I guess what I find so hard is that the thing that I thought would help to liberate me even further is now a burden.

Getting a master’s degree was something that I always I would figured I would do someday, but not something that I planned on doing. I didn’t even know what I would get my master’s in.

Yet I did it, and now I need to find out what I am going to do next. Any suggestions??

I have one more project to do, and I am done with my class. I have until Sunday night at 8:00, so I have plenty of time. Finally, I can feel the stress melting away.

Tomorrow, I have what I am calling a cattle call interview. It’s really an “informational session” for an insurance company. I don’t really want to sell insurance. In fact, I don’t want to sell anything. It’s really funny when companies find out you have a marketing degree, they think you wanna do is sell, sell, sell! So, tomorrow, I am gonna go in there with my head held high, pay attention to the information, and walk out of there letting them know I am not interested in selling what ever it is they sell.

Ok, so you may be asking yourself, what is it that you are going to do with your marketing degree. Well, I am doing what I want to do currently. I do web-based marketing for a small speciality foods company. Ok . . .another question you are asking yourself is, if you are already doing what you want to do, why are you looking for a new job. Several factors influence that answer.

1. This job is temporary and can end at a moments notice
2. This job is only part-time
3. I need to get out of this town and state for a little while
4. After my friends graduate, there will be nothing to really keep me here other than a few family members.
5. Life with mom and dad is not so pretty . . .sure the bills are paid . . .but no boys, no booze, no fun!

So right now, my main focus is to finish my project and find a way to get out of Dodge, if you know what I mean. I will use tomorrow as practice for any other interviews that may come my way. Anyone out there face the same thing?

Days to graduation: 24

I have somewhat recovered from most of my stress induced aliments. However, my hair is still falling out by the handfuls. It’s like my stress has induced spontaneous-chemo treatments. But I didn’t come here to talk about cancer or chemo or cancer induced death. Just death in general tonight.

Death never makes appointments or comes when its convenient. It’s often sad, sometimes joyous, and maybe a little bit funny. My roommate, Samantha, has seen a bit too much death in the past 18 months. Her mother died, from cancer at 62. 13 months later her father died from an irregular heart arrhythmia at 78. Samantha was not only and only child, but a late in life child to boot (she is 23).

Both of her parents wanted to be cremated. However, there was no instructions for their ashes. So therefore, the ashes are her property now. Not wanting to explain an all-to-obvious ash urn, Samantha decided on two decorative containers. One from World Market and one from Hobby Lobby. (BTW . . .if you need an ash container, def check out the selection at both stores. It’s def cheaper.) The containers sit on a bookshelf in her room.

Most people don’t recognize what those containers are (or whats in them). When they find out, they freak! Its kinda funny watching them find excuses to get out of the house! It’s not like the remains of their human bodies can get out of those sealed containers and grab you!

If they haven’t totally freaked out, then I tell them the story of arts and crafts with dad. You see. Samantha’s dad lived about 6 hours away. He died on a Monday afternoon. It was going to take a day or two before his remains could be cremated. When she went back on Friday to clean out his apartment she picked up his remains in a temporary container (aka, a plastic bag inside a cardboard box). He lived (and I use that term very, very, loosely) on our kitchen counter in his temporary container for about a week. The following Saturday we opened the box and transfer the bag with his remains into the container and sealed it up with super glue! We weighed down the top of the container with a phone book until the glue dried and she put him on the bookshelf next to her mom!

Ok, some of you are thinking . . .this story is sick! I’ll give you that. Personally, I think its kind of funny. How many 20-somethings would be willing to do something like.

My generation is known for one particularly bad thing . . .we are boomerang children. This isn’t the case with my roommate. I joke with here about the fact that I have to live with her parent. They are getting mail here. People are calling them on her phone, using up her mins. And how inconsiderate they are carrying on with those long, moaning conversations in the middle of the night. She laughs. And maybe for a minute she remembers them in a good light.

She once told me that when it was just her mom in her room that “mom watches me do the nasty!” When she brought home dad I told her that “both your parents can watch you do the nasty. . .they would be so proud.”

And speaking of doing the nasty . . .Samantha was supposed to get a drink with a guy that had a long-standing crush on her. He was so good-looking and they had a mutual friend together, David. On Friday morning this guy died of Bacterial meningitis. David also lost his grandfather a short time ago and was in the room with Samantha when her father died. I call these two “the death squad.” Obviously, they don’t want to be in this little duo. But sometimes you have to laugh . . .even when you feel like crying. Sometimes its the only thing to do when you can’t go on. Next time you think of death . . .find some humor in it.

The other night I bought a Fajita Ranchera Burrito (with Steak) from Qdoba. It’s like my favorite burrito . . .can get enough of them. Shortly after I ate my burrito, I went to sleep. BAD IDEA.

I had three very crazy, hellish dreams. One including a stalker who was killing people in a Scream-esque way to prove how much he loved me, another involved my sister performing a half-time show at Arrowhead Stadium. First, my sister has no performing arts talent, secondly, I hate the Chiefs, and third, I hate football. The whole time I wanted to get back to here to see a friend (who I haven’t seen in a long time) and play video games with her.

The third dream . . .well I remember it was weird and creepy, I just don’t remember what it was. So lesson learned, don’t eat burritos before bed. Well, when have I ever learned a lesson the first time. Tonight for dinner (at 9:45 pm) I had a Fajita Burrito from Chipotle. As I am about to head to bed, I am wondering what is in store for me. I’ll let you know!

The picture above was taken in October . . .and as you can tell, it’s a self-portrait. I am a 4, not in size, but in looks. I can deal with that. I realize that I will never be a size two (my big boobs prevent that from happening), as I get older, my hair will not continue to grow very long, and it doesn’t matter if I’m thin or not, I will always have a double chin.

As a woman, I have a lot of things I would like to fix about myself (breast reduction, a PULL lift, etc). Yet, it’s not a top-priority in my life to fix these things. I would much rather be healthy and happy. And for the most part, I’ve got the happy down.

It wasn’t easy. It took me 6 years to get there. Every time I think I was done with my self-discovery, I would find something new to work on. I’m still growing, but I am happier than I have ever been And I have been here for 2 more. It hasn’t been easy all the time, but I am happy with where I am. I accept myself with all flaw . . .which are too numerous to name.

So, what started this path to self-discovery . . .the end of a very bad relationship. It wasn’t just the bad relationship that was the worst thing . . .it was the fact that I was willing to do anything to stay in this very bad relationship. And when it was over I took a little peek into the future to see where I wanted to be as a person. And here are the things I wanted in no particular order

1. I wanted to be successful in a job I loved
2. A good girlfriend
3. Figure out who I was
4. To get the most out of life
5. Grab life by the horns

And I feel that I have at least 3 1/2 completed. So I feel like I am ready to take care of #2, but why is it that all I seem to attract are 2s. True, on a scale of one to ten I’m a 4. So that means that i should be able to attract 3s, 4s, and 5s. But all I get are 2s. There is nothing wrong with 2s necessarily, it just seems that I am not attracted to them. And while physical attraction isn’t necessarily a quality I look for in a relationship, it does help when you are attracted to the person. It’s not only the 2s that are attracted to me, but it’s also what people want to set me up with.

I don’t know if it’s because the of my looks, or the fact that I haven’t been in a relationship in a really long time, but seriously . . .I’m not that desperate. I can hold out. I feel like I have a lot to offer, but no one to offer it too.

Maybe I am being too hard on the 2s out there. Maybe I should give the 2s a chance. However I would feel like I am settling (something I feel no one should do). What do you think?

For anyone that has been to Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, FL can attest to the fireworks show the three major parks put on each and every night. If you have been to Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party or Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas, you can also attest to awesomeness of panoramic fireworks. It’s awesome to not only watch a fireworks show but be in the middle of fireworks show. However, what is not awesome is the next fireworks show.

All other fireworks shows now pale in comparison to the firework shows I witnessed several times while doing my internship at Disney. As I sit here in my room and listen to the fireworks going on outside my house (I live outside city limits . . .therefore, anyone and everyone can set off fireworks out here. It sounds like I am living in the middle of an artillery range!) I am reminded of the expertly choreographed fireworks to the inspiration music written and produced by Disney musicians. They were beautiful and awe-inspiring.

It doesn’t matter how many fireworks shows I have seen since, I always feel a bit let down. This year had no exceptions. Even this year, the fireworks show I watch, though eventful, (one of the trailers holding a set of fireworks tipped over while the fireworks were being lit, thus leading to a fire on the dam of the lake I was watching from.) still a let down. I’ve been spoiled.

I wonder if I can get my childhood imagination back for fireworks in the future. Do you think that is possible?

So I realize I have only published two posts this week. Sorry. My blood sugars are still working themselves out. Combine with the heat, this amazing indigestion I’ve had and some killer allergens, I haven’t really felt like doing much this week. Even though, there is a lot to do.

So here I am at about 11:00 am on Friday (at work no less) filling you fine folks in about my week. Most of it spend hungover. Really, there hasn’t been that much of interest . . .until last night.

My neighbor “Andrea” (who I went out with on Saturday . . .) celebrated her b-day yesterday. We went to dinner, and then out to a cowboy club after.

I don’t know if you are familiar with the idea of a cowboy club. The music is a mix of hip-hop and country. There are never less than 6 pool table (which are always full), there are at least 3 girls selling jello shots all times and there are usually 2-3 beer tanks (aka metal wash basins with iced down long neck or cans) at variously places so you don’t have to wait at the bar to get a beer.

It is a drinking establishment (I would like to take a moment here and say that I did not drink heavily last night . . .but I did have 2 very weak jello shots at the club) where men who think they are cowboy or redneck or hillbillies come to meet women who think they are the same. Men traditionally dress in Wranglers, ropers, cowboy hat/trucker hats, and consume a lot of beer and cigarettes/chew/dip/snuff. However, you will find the occasional man in an Affliction, Ed Hardy or Tap Out t-shirt or button down.

Most of the girls find some way to incorporate cowboy boots into their attire, yet they wear short skirts or short shorts and high heels mostly with hair jacked half way to Jesus (” the higher the hair the closer you are to Jesus” mentality).

I always feel awkward in places like this. I can wear the high-heels and the Snookie sized poof and feel comfortable in a skirt. However, I am not a teeny-tiny cutesy girl. And in a cowboy bar there seems to be one rule . . .”no fat chicks!” Being on the wrong side of the “no fat chicks!” rule can make a girl feel pretty miserable. Not to mention the fact that while last night was “Ladies Night” at this particular cowboy bar, they also had a “Sexy Buns” contest. Ok . . .great . . .just to make me feel worse let’s get a group of 18-20 year-olds (in this part of the country girls 18 and up can get into a bar, but they can’t legally drink until they are 21.) shaking their thonged ass in my direction. Not cool.

Add to that the pervy old man next to me. And let me tell you, I have never wanted to dive head first into a giant tank of Purell and then set myself ablaze so much in my life. And then it occurred to me. . .This wasn’t so much a sexy buns contest as it is a bunch of underage desperate vag with daddy issues contest. And then I felt so much better about my life. I guess it just goes to show that even a fat chick can find a silver lining at a cowboy club.

BTW . . .today my blood sugars are almost back to normal. That also makes me feel better. So much so, I think I am going to take a nap!

Last night my roommate Samantha and my friend Aiden (yes, Aiden is a homosexual. What straight man would go see this movie, unless she was trying to get into some girl’s pants) went to STL to see the new Twilight movie with a friend of theirs. No offense . . .but I really don’t like Twilight, I saw the last movie and I want two hours of my life back. So while they were out doing their thing, I got to watch Booby.

On Monday, I separated Dubs from Pye-D with a very giant pet gate at the bottom of the stairs. Pye-D does not come downstairs, and Dubs is not allowed upstairs. It nice that I don’t have to crawl over a pet gate to scoop the cat box, or fill a water bowl or food dish. And on a positive note, I can keep my bathroom door open without fear someone (Dubs) will get into my bathroom trash.

Yet last night, Dubs got to come upstairs. And it was a rodeo from there. Pye wanted love, while Dubs slept at the foot of the bed. Then Dubs started in on a round of random growling, while Pye slept at the foot of the bed. Then Dubs decided he wanted in to the cat room for a little cat food and a visit to the cat box. Then Pye wanted into her room and Dubs out of her room. Then Dubs explored the bathroom.

At 2:30 am enough was enough. The pet gate went up in front of the cat room and the bathroom door got shut. And, as if a modern-day miracle, both pets climbed into bed and all three of us went to sleep. Only to be up for 5 hours later for work.

I’m hoping this doesn’t keep up! Have you had any interesting pet rodeos lately?

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