temporary sojourn

Everything in my life is currently set up as if this is a temporary stop for me. I do not decorate my flat with permanent fixtures, I do not have pictures hanging on my cubicle wall in the office and my car is currently leased so is my flat. It's like it's set up to be temporary, like this is temporary until I get somewhere and in there, it will be permanent. Where this place is, I don't know. I haven't known where this place is for quite some time and still, I still live on the edge, like I'm getting ready to quit my life in 30 seconds flat.

Today I remembered another happy time in my life. When you get older some of your memories fade, you remember things in bits and even when you do remember it all seems like those events occurred to someone else. A better, happier, much younger version of you. But today I remembered a good and giddy feeling. I remembered my law school days. The days I was in love with this certain 25 year old boy and I was 24. Everything seemed to rise and set with his appearance. It was a good time.

I remembered spending one weekend spontaneously at Nicon-Noga Hilton Hotel in Abuja. I went in on the Thursday to see my girlfriend who was visiting one of her aspiring boyfriends. He had sent a car to pick me so I could keep my friend company while he left town on business. And in the elevator this man saw me and said, Hi, he asked me my name and we just exchanged casual greetings, as short as can be exchanged in an elevator ride. And then, I bumped into him again and told him what room I was in but my friend's boyfriend had only paid for the night. Just as we were about to check out, the hotel informed us that we could stay courtesy of someone. He, my elevator pal, had eventually paid to have us stay in the room all weekend, he took care of all our meals and paid for the cab back to school. My friends thought I was the shit. I remember how good it felt to wake up in the comfy hotel bed, with their luxurious sheets instead of in school in my twin mattress uncomfortable bed and to order room service all weekend. All this because he fancied me in the elevator.

Then, you move to this country and age considerably and no one fancies you. Not even a little bit. You become congealed lard.

Let us pray for happier days ahead.

On a certain Friday night, I had fun.

You know I hate to use the words "given up" but that is how I feel - defeated. Like I've been running for quite a long time with no finish line in sight. And in some ways I am hopeful but it is just not panning out. So I'm exhausted. Extremely exhausted. But something keeps me running, why?

On a certain Friday night, I had fun with a certain stranger. Strange becomes the fact that I can never see him again, and I hate that I even think about him 48 hours later. Think about him immensely.

You always think if you meet someone and you have great conversation and they make you laugh and you make them laugh, that it's a good sign. That surely there was a spark in there, you didn't just imagine it, and certainly they would like to do this again sometime, to sit and laugh with you again. Just like in the movies. That's my stupid heart speaking. But as my luck would have it, we just happen to be passing ships, and even if I instigate an opportunity to meet them again, they don't want to. Maybe the spark was nonexistent for them. Or maybe I just say something in the whole hullaballoo that ruins everything. Maybe they don't even give me a second thought after the evening is over. Maybe I just imagined it all.

Hey stranger, if I was 10 years younger (30 pounds lighter) and you were single, maybe, just maybe. But for now, I'll leave it up to chance and a whole lot of hope. We could laugh and enjoy life, even if momentarily. Gah, dear God why tempt me with stuff I can't have?

Fuck me too.

Door 44

How can I adequately describe the Door 44 experience?

This took a lot from me, all the female cajones in the world but I made it through it. In the end, I thought see, it really wasn't that difficult.

Sometime in April, I received free passes to Door 44 from some very reluctant girls parading Crescent Avenue. I guess they sent them on the prowl because they were upset that Opera was getting all the action yet again. Reluctant, because I may not have particularly looked like their target audience. But never fear, I kept the passes in a safe place. Read the final print carefully, while checking for their expiration and I was good to go.

Several months and rainy Friday nights later, it finally came to me. But the night didn't actually start as a night to be spent at Door 44, there was this little event by my friends at Blackout Productions.

Bubble Gum Bash at Whiskey Park. It sounded great but was really a dud. And anyone who decides to throw a launch party of some sort at Whiskey Park knowing that their parking is iffy, has got another thing coming. The invite said arrive early, but as I drove through, with the lack of parking and the multiple hours it takes me to decide on what to wear, I was certainly not early. As I walked up to it, I saw some patrons leaving. Not a good sign. Never a good sign. It was barely 10.30. Worse off, we got only one free drink ticket from the sponsors, Three Olives Vodka. The night was doomed. I had walked about 2 blocks from 15th street to 14th street and they needed me to pay $15 for a martini. You have got to be kidding me?!!! I perused the crowd. Good DJ. But homegirl was thirsty and I had worn my good dress, the pink one with my Kate Spade shoes. The night must turn out okay. I am not having it. Especially as Buckhead is 10 miles away.

So I walked to Door 44. This is when the Door 44 plan was hatched. If I got there before 11 I could use the passes, or pass, considering I was the only one using it. So off my little legs went. It was about 10.45 at this time.

As I got there, passing the long line of people in front of Opera, walking on the faux red carpet to the entrance, the chick at the door gave me this look. Like, Girl did you forget your way. Sort of that look that the guy gave those two mature ladies in that movie, "Knocked Up." Right before he burst into the you are butt old speech. But this Door 44 chick didn't as much as say it as she implied it.  Then, I said, wait, I have a free pass. I rummaged through my stack of passes and then, voila, there it was. She was speechless. At this point, she gave me a look as if, I will see in 10 minutes on your way out. I was like, "Don't bet on it, missy!"

So I went in. Empty as shit. Crowd was very vanilla flavored. DJ was doing his thing. But the stage was small. Whatever happened to all the scantily clad girls they promised me would be dancing on the stages, etc. What happened to all the alternative type people? I quickly ordered a drink and thought of what next to do. I needed to sit down. I had walked about 4 blocks to get there.

This is the thing. Only in a tame city such as Atlanta can you walk 4 blocks in a club type dress and high heels and no one would look at you. They wouldn't even cast you a second glance. I walked 4 blocks n the city, a busy city albeit in the south at 10.45pm and no one gave me a 2nd look. How is that for making you think your value has diminished?

I digress.

Back to me sipping on an $8 awful glass of Chardonnay. I know my Chardonnay's. This wasn't a very good one. A glass  for $8. You are kidding me, right?

A very, very long hour later, I finally found a seat and was about to call it a night, when I decided to speak to the young man beside me. Mind you, he didn't speak to me. He looked at me. A lot of times. He must have been wondering, what gives, what the fuck? So I asked him if this was it, and if the place would get any better than the drunk white chick who was dancing all over this black dude. He said, to my surprise, "Yes." At 11.45pm, this is a little early for this place. So I thought, okay. I'd get another drink then. This time a beer for $5 and then I'll wait it out.

Then, it started slamming. Like the party heavens had opened up. The crowd got better (insert mixed crowd reference in here), much friendlier, rowdier and just alive. I could hardly remember that I came to this joint on my own. I didn't want to leave. There was so much dancing, drinking, laughing, groping and talking amidst the loud music, that I had to tear myself away from it. I even had a chance to toast to "Cajones" and to everyone, men and women having them, because Lord knows we all need them. In the end, I hitched a ride back to my car and an escort from the young man who advised me to stay and advisably so, because I wasn't about to walk 4 blocks in my aching feet back to my car.

So that was it. Door 44 at its best.

Will I try it again? Probably. Hopefully, this wasn't a fluke.

employers have got the leg up

Because of the recession employers have an even bigger leg up over job applicants than they did before. Now, it's not just because of the power of the command vested in the employer that makes the employment relationship nothing like a contract (lack of equal bargaining powers such as exists in a contract) but the recession has come to give them an upper hand in the intense uneven handed negotiation. So now, not only do they have employees by the balls, they gut you even before they get to see the balls. Rightful baggers.


About a month ago, a recruiter called me to ask me if I would be interested in some god-awful project manager position, wherein they needed someone with business experience, an MBA, etc. (Mind you I don't have an MBA) She sent me the link to their website and there I identified a position I thought I was better suited for. Bad idea. The position is the same rank as my current position and in a company located about 35 miles from where I live. So already I wasn't really interested but I applied anyway. Why would I do that, you might ask? Just to get my feet wet apparently.

Two weeks later, they asked me to schedule a phone interview as I had been shortlisted for this position. So I did. The phone interview was awful. Already I didn't prepare my anecdotes and brush up on my interviewing skills because I kept thinking, this is not really a position I want. It represents no upward move, just a move to pretty much the same scenario. And it didn't help that the interviewer turned out to be the cockiest muthafucker this side of the earth. I bet in his mind he thought, unemployment is at an all time high, no one is hiring right now, and the rest of the world is unemployed, so you better bow down and be grateful that we have this position available. Then, he started mentioning a whole bunch of administrative tasks that I had specifically run away from in my prior positions. He hinted that it may be required of me in the current position. At that point I knew we both wanted different things. And there's always this pause anytime you tell them you have a Master's degree, like "didn't you read my resume?" I did say my highest degree is Master's. Were you expecting me to say high school?

The power of command reinforced.

Needless to say it didn't take them two weeks to send me the "Thank you but no Thanks" email. Like it really matters. You called me first, I didn't call you and then, you give me the Thanks but no Thanks.

Well, Fuck you Too.

nightmares and all

I had one of those dreams again. Dream premonitions, so vivid that you force yourself to wake up. I had something similar the morning of my accident. But I failed to tell anyone about it. Beause in the dream I saw the accident. It didn't happen to me. So I thought I was not at risk. Big mistake. In this dream there was a sign on the front of my car that revealed some bad news and inevitably they said they wouldn't let my car be released because of that bad news. That scared me. I was like, not again. I woke up and I prayed and condemned the evil that brought me such a dream. Since this acident it's been one clusterfuck after another, and at this point I just want my car fixed, is that too much to ask? I keep playing that day over in my head and wondering, if I could have avoided it, why didn't I? Why didn't God shoo me away from the evil and lead me to safety but instead I just played myself right into its arms.

So here I am telling someone. Anyone. I can't risk another one coming true on me.

New York, I love you

Success means...having a job in New York City.

I saw this at the mall yesterday. On a cardboard cutout of some product from Andy Warhol. I bet he said that. And I couldn't agree more. In my search for the type of city in the US I would love to live in, I've narrowed it down to New York and San Francisco, as a close second. Both have shitty weather, but both are so awesomely rich in culture and artsy stuff to do, see and be a part of. Now, I know why Madonna sang that song, "I Love New York.". 

Plus all the other, New York show tunes....Come spreading the news on Carnegie Hall, I'll make a brand new start of it, in all New York.."

For me, success means having a job in a city that I love. I won't narrow it down to New York, but a city I love. Better even, if it's a job that I love.

A little angrier

So on Friday, 09-25-09 at approximately 12.45 pm, I was in a car accident. I was on my way to the hospital for a check up and took a slight detour to buy something, got a little lost and decided to head back to the doctor. Just before my exit we all stopped suddenly and there it was. The guy behind couldn't stop quick enough or was moving way too fast and then, he rammed into me. He rammed into me so hard that I rammed into the guy in front of me. Double whammy. His car was totaled. It ricocheted across the highway and was in smoke. Mine was not so good. It had to be towed out of there.

So here I am without a car all weekend. It was the Atlanta Classic weekend at that. So many parties, so many events that I wanted to force myself to go to, just to get some fresh air. Instead I had to sit home grounded unable to get anywhere tangible and sulk completely, entirely.

The car is still not fixed and I don't know when it will get fixed. I am still being given the run around by the insurance company. They've let me rent a car but a much smaller one at that and it is not even comparable to the car that got semi-totaled. The entire thing is just a nightmare that makes you wish it happened to someone else.

The scary part of this whole thing was that I had a nightmare about that morning. I dreamt that I had let a friend of mine drive back from somewhere. On our way the cars in front of us piled up and I told her to stop immediately. She did, a good distance from them and soon enough, their cars blew up. And we were thankful that we were not that close to the flame. I just remember the horror of seeing human lives burn in front of me. Freaky nightmare. Thankfully, the reality that occurred hours later was not that horrorful. But it still was not a welcome call.

People wonder why I am so sad. Because shit keeps happenning to me. I see some people and all they have is good news to report. They always have a smile on their faces, their lives just keep going according to plan. But for me, it's always the opposite. Like some nightmare. This lends itself to why I am so negative. There's really actually nothing to be positive about.

So this explains the lack of inspiration to keep plowing away at this journal. I know I have a lot to say but I don't even know where to start. How do I start? What do I say that I haven't elaborated on before.