Back. Again.

Back to blogland. I'm in the process of my semi-annual job search. That's the problem with being a nanny, kids grow up and it feels like you're always looking. Nothing illustrates the passage of time more effectively than children. It's especially weird because I specialize in infants and toddlers. I'm considering adding doula (both post-partum and birth) and possibly, MAYBE, in the future, midwife. That involves some additional training which necessitates travel to exotic locations like... Tennessee! All of these daydreams and idle fantasies are contingent upon me securing reasonable employment for the next two years. The first girl I ever nannied for just turned 9. She's 9. How can that be? Moreover, how was I ever that young? How did I end up working with children? Why can't I imagine doing anything else? I worked my butt off for a degree from a good school (and I get to pay for it forever). I could have easily gone to grad school and done social work like I planned. But I just... I just love my ridiculous, hard, challenging, silly job. I couldn't imagine a life surrounded by white walls and the beep of machinery. I could imagine a life where I could wear jewelry to work, come home with nothing stained, read Joan Didion hardcovers in Rittenhouse over lunch and have a unhealthy level of intimacy with a blackberry. But ultimately it's not me. And for that I'm kind of happy. Even if I am covered in snot.

Dear Self

Please, for the love of all things holy, get something done.

This general apathy and inability to do things simple things like go to the post office or make a phone call has been a life long struggle. I'm currently hanging out on my sofa, making a mental list of all the things I need to take care of in the next few weeks. And why I am avoiding them.

Buy a new jump rope: My old one died and I can feel my fat cells considering a full fledged revolt. It is cold and I do not want to drive to Target, despite actually having a car for once and being able to do so with ease. Maybe tomorrow after work.

Get fitted for bridesmaid's dress: I don't want to be poked and prodded by a stranger. And frankly the dress looked bad when I tried it the first time, I'm a little terrified I'm going to look like a ghetto Disney princess or Barney's shiny green cousin. Also, I need to start jumping rope again as my cardio. I think getting fitted for the dress will definitely motivate me to work out

Sign up for Boxing again: Waiting for my next paycheck, too lazy to dial numbers

Grocery shopping: I could have continued driving and just gone to the store, but something compelled me to come home and sit on the sofa.

Shave: It's becoming clear this will soon be removed from my to do list forever

Apply for second job: If I don't want to type, I probably don't want to work more either. Why doesn't a bag of money just fall from the sky?

Go back to school: I don't want to deal with the people in the financial aid office. I also don't want to be told I can't go due to my inability to pay for it. If I had a job that allowed me to pay for school with money out of pocket and left me still able to pay rent and eat; I'd just keep the job.

So there you have it. I am going to take a nap. I'm good at that.

Monotony

It's been quite awhile since my last post. Life's been the same. I moved from Rittenhouse to Queen Village. I stopped working in West Philly and started working 3 minutes away from where I live. I broke up with my boyfriend of 3 years in April and started seeing someone new, despite my intentions of not doing that for a long time. I have acquired a pet turtle I have named Sandwich. He is a red eared slider. He loves lettuce and rocks I bring him from the neighborhood. I had no idea this would be an interactive pet to the extent it is. When I walk near the tank, he swims back and forth in rhythm with my motions.

All I do is cook and eat. The other night I made what can only be described as a fabulous bean soup. Black beans, tomato paste, garlic, onion, corn, carrots, cumin and chili powder. It took a grand total of 45 minutes to construct, prep time to meal time. Highly suggest.

This morning I learned that the guy I chat with briefly every morning at the bus stop is actually my neighbor. Like lives in my building, on my floor, is the guy I can hear talking when I'm in the shower. I think we both felt like idiots.

I'm slowly starting to feel human again. This is amazing, considering I'm part zombie.

How do you title something like this?

I took a break from my very rare internet blogging to deal with some family issues. I had hoped for a better resolution than this and an opportunity to possibly donate bone marrow for my mother.

Sadly, she died on the 9th. I spent the week in Warminster with my father and sister planning the funeral. It was as surreal as it gets. One week I'm talking to my mom about politics and the next I'm picking out what clothes to bury her in.

If my mother wanted anything for me, it was my happiness. She and my father taught me important lessons about how to treat people. The main thing my parents have done for me as an adult was to unconditionally accept me as I was. They never once made comments about who I dated, my living situation, my career choice, what college I attended or anything else. They were nothing but supportive. My mother never gave unsolicited advice. And when she gave advice, she told me I was always free to ignore it and do what I thought was best because she didn't raise an idiot.

My mother wasn't perfect, but she did manage to just accept people as they were and not constantly judge them for not being enough. I see countless examples of parents and families who look down on each other for things that really should be non-issues.

Possibly the best piece of advice my father ever gave me was "Your job is not YOU."

It hasn't entirely sunk in yet that I'll never have an opportunity to talk to my mother again. I think her being sick in the hospital for so long made it somewhat usual for her to be absent. I think it'll really hit me when I return back to work on Monday and pause to decide whether I should go home first or visit my mother first.

It's hard to know what the future holds from here. It's hard period.

Phillies. Phans. Phuck.

I'm really happy that Philadelphia has a championship. Really I am.

But if people don't stop throwing trash everywhere in my neighborhood, I'm going to scream. There are trash cans EVERYWHERE on nearly every corner. Clean up after yourselves.

The parade looked festive from what I could see. I have an excellent view of Broad Street from my apartment. After they won the series, people started pouring out of their apartments onto the streets. It was a sea of red and white. Remarkably peaceful, especially by Philadelphia standards. I could have done without the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOing that went on until 3am, coupled with the charming sounds of car horns. But seeing as I'm 27 years old and have never seen a sports team here win, it's been cool.

Heading up to Warminster on Monday. Good times.

PSA

If someone offers you alcohol with a dead snake floating in it, don't drink it. Unless puking on the way home is your idea of fun; in which case you should definitely drink it.

And that's all I've got to say about that.