This week has been full. Very full.
And although my cup doth runneth over, it’s Friday today (now Monday as I write this, to be fair), and probably already 5PM somewhere in the world, so there is hope. To drink. Alcohol.
But for fun, let’s recap the last week so we can all be on the same crazy page and get a minuscule insight into my sublime life.
1) VEGASSSSSSSS….said in a dirty, sexy way, of course. Roy and I had decided that we were going take off on holiday this year as we had done the wedding, and thought that one hall pass as a married team would be apropos. So we headed to Vegas. There we met one of homies from Colorado, and proceeded for three days to demonstrate how to NOT do Vegas. Drinking early, no POA, drinking late, wandering aimlessly among tourists and convention delegates….oh yeah…and ASS JUICE.
I know that you’re all dying to know what this mysterious juice like product could possibly be. It is basically all of the left over booze rounded up from a night done in a FANTASTIC dive bar which includes Everclear and Kool-Aid. It’ll straight up cut a bitch. And when you start drinking it in the midday…well, no good is ever going to come from that. Two days in a row….actually.
I will give credit to Vegas that it was festively decorated (albeit in Christmas fare), packed to the hilt, and always more bang for your buck than you even intend. But being able to spend time with my person and that person’s person was priceless. I actually could have been anywhere with these two and would have been happy, it just so happens it was in a city were breakfast is a bloody mary, lunch is a nap, and dinner is Ass Juice and cigarettes. Yummmmmm.
I had my own issues with the Haufbrauhaus where I consumed two liters of beer, and don’t remember much more of the day…it was only 4PM. Apparently I did sing, dance, try to steal a picture of a beerwench from the wall, hit Roy in the face for starring at a plump waitress, and almost crawled home. Sooooo classy. But sooooo Vegas. Here’s to trash and trailers, I guess.
2) But it was so nice to have a mini-vaca with quality bonding time (yes, I sat two days in a row by a pool in late November and did nothing but drink Mai-Tai’s and chat it up!) because when I got back to work it became the same ol’, same ol’ but this time ending with a week-long drama wrapping up with a new job offer and one surprised Manager.
This went down during an age old dispute in our letter writing task. We have templates that we are supposed to use that are 10 years out of date and are basically unusable. However, if you don’t use them, you are told. And if you use them, you are also told…but this time told off. I do this dance with different members of my team, but this time the conversation was a more serious one, ending with me hearing myself make excuses and realizing that it didn’t matter what I said, I was going to on the shit’s list and it was better to stop while I was ahead and still had some self-respect. The Catch-22 is too deep to contradict.
This was only Monday.
By Friday, after a week of anxiety and sleepless nights stressing over whether I could dig out of my hole before I was relegated to having no more projects ever, I sat through a 2 hour staff meeting where I was anonymously used as the example for bettering team practices and truly suffered through it. I honestly thought that this day could not get any worse, and that turned out to not necessarily be the case.
Because, I got the call. I got the CAL job. I accepted the job. I tried to resign. Things turned bizarre.
My manager was so surprised, couldn’t comprehend that I wasn’t satisfied, tried to convince me to stay – basically scared the shit out of me with his lack of comprehension about my situation. At one point I actually turned to check behind me, JUST IN CASE, he was speaking to another person and I was about to answer for them unnecessarily. In the end, I left work without having given my letter of resignation and felt more dumbfounded than when I went in.
(Don’t worry, I’m still bouncing, I just had to get my bearings straight, organize myself, and come in today with guns slinging! UC Berkeley, Here I Come!!! Now, if only I can sneak into a PhD program…oh my!)
3) But Friday was a success for two reasons, although the first took me a bit longer to accept and absorb (and still hasn’t truly settled in, actually). HOWEVER, the second accomplishment was a chamber concert that was going down that night, and according to me, was going to be a bust NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENED.
For that, I was really upset.
I LOVE music, and I play the cello with crazy expression and feeling. With this group, all that care and love dissipated due to the attitudes of my violinist and violist which were MEAN, HURTFUL, ACCUSATORY, and INSANE. I spent three months getting SLAMMED that my incredibly hard part wasn’t up to speed, not in tune enough, poor all around, and weak compared to the rest of the players.
FALSE!!! However, I can only beat a dead horse for so long, and stopped defending myself. I knew I would not be able to play my part any better at the crazy ass tempo they were trying to take and I straight up admitted defeat. (Now, that’s not to say I didn’t practice as much as I could, sitting with my dear Mother who was relegated to SCREAMING out the beat so that I could try and get some triplets into an entire bar ON TIME. It was painful for everyone in the house.)
So, I arrive at my show literally a shadow of a strong, independent woman, exhausted, confused, and filled with a bummed out attitude that the concert is going to be such a freaking mess. But as my three other members arrive, it is suddenly decided 10 MINUTES before show time that we should take the piece MUCH slower, and allow us all to play our parts with more confidence, in tune and in time.
THANK GOD and ARE YOU KIDDING ME, leapt into my mind, but I stuck with the more important godly praise because I knew we might walk out of this show with our pride intact.
And we did. And we were good. Not amazing, but not laughable either. And to add that final cherry of joy, I had time to play my part whilst giving a little gusto including a hair toss here, a body bounce there…just enough to keep it classy, San Francisco. GREAT SUCCESS! While the true highlight was maybe my homie’s two year old respectfully calling out in between movements, “AGAIN!”. I die. So freaking adorable!!!
4) So while it seemed like Vegas, work, and music were all winnings (duh) I did have an internal and external argument with my two newest members of the CL body and soul.
And not just my first two symbols of respect and age, I have many hiding in my temples. But the most annoying, misplaced, obvious, ugly-ass, grey hairs. They are baby hairs, right at my hair line, and stick up with a kink and a curl that could drown the Maine and scare any L’Oreal hair dye back into its box. They are UNTAMABLE. And I reckon they were the results of the Rusty situation, while serving to remind me that life has existed to such a degree that it has changed the color of my hair(s)!!! PAY ATTENTION!
I hate them.
I stare at them.
I curse them.
I shame them.
And no matter what I do, they’re there forever, and I can only allow them to grow out so that when I do attempt to forcibly dye them a brown color once again, they can be brushed back with the masses and aren’t so freaking obvious. Here’s to getting older, I guess.
However, my Christmas cards are done, our tree is up, I have a new job, and overall, I’m still here. So: Hoooo Raaaa, life is good.