Working World

I am not used to standing for 8+ hours a day. My feet hurt after each of my two shifts.

It's a fun gig though. The funnest retail environment ever - selling to Cirque patrons as they go into and out of the shows. I was surprised, though, to see several patrons who were more interested in shopping than in seeing the show - they remained out in the merchandise area intentionally after the show had begun! That's an expensive ticket just to do some shopping, ladies.

It's a cold working environment. The tent is barely heated, just enough to take the edge off the chill. It would cost a fortune to heat the merchandise area; so we wear layers and layers of black and try to stay dry in the rain. I didn't notice it when I was working but the in-between times were chilly. Chilly and damp, and I still had fun!

I'm really glad to be back in the working world, even if it is only for a few weeks. It's so nice to be out of the house, with purpose, a task to complete and people to work alongside of. I need my solo time, but I need to be out of the house too.

We're off to a wedding in a few days. It's an outdoor wedding. Hopefully the weather cooperates but it doesn't look likely.

I have very little else to say. I'm glad to be inside today, relaxing after some actual working days; and I'll be glad to get back out to the chilly rainy Cirque tent on Tuesday.

It's Nothing New

S. believes in me. The depth of his belief blows me away.

I wonder if I believe in myself as strongly. I don't know. If I did, wouldn't I have done something with the talent he sees in me by now?

The fact that he thinks I'm talented enough to make it provides more impetus than I expected.

He sometimes tries to spur action in me by nagging me. That doesn't work very well.

But the simple act of telling me he thinks I'm talented, that he believes in my gifts, makes me want to do something with those gifts. How strange.

S. loves me. The strength of his love takes my breath away.

It's nothing new, but it seems new to me every time I realize it.

I am one of the fortunate ones.

Balance

This has been a summer of learning.

I have never had a summer where I haven't been surrounded by people. Whether it was in a theatre, at a restaurant, or in a museum, I have never had a shortage of humanity to immerse myself in.

I am not an extrovert. I find excessive amounts of people exhausting. I get 'peopled out' and need to retreat to solitude to retain my sanity.

But this summer, I have learned that there is such a thing as too much 'solo time'.

This is the first summer in years that I have felt loneliness. This is the first summer that I have had to go out of my way to find a social outlet - the first summer I've felt a need for a social outlet in the first place. Usually I get enough human contact during the day, at work.

But now I don't get that. I spend my days with a puppy. I see S. and almost no-one else. I occasionally talk on the phone with people, and that's it.

That's not enough.

So I'm learning how to create a social life. I've never had to do that before, and it's a strange new experience for me.

In the process I'm also learning that I'm not very good at incorporating all aspects of my life into a blended whole. I tend to focus exclusively on one thing at a time, to the detriment to all else. I am writing and the house falls to pieces around me. I am cleaning and I abandon my artistic side. I start doing Arbonne and I ignore upcoming auditions until the last minute. I decide I need a social life and I cease to be productive on any other level.

It's a problem but at least I'm learning now instead of when I'm old and wrinkled and unable to change.


I've been reading Dooce, a blog my mom introduced me to. Being the kind of person I am, I've actually gone back and am working my way through every single post she's ever written. I wish I'd done that before I started writing my blog. I've learned a lot - this post particularly has riveted itself to my brain. I don't always think about the possible fallout my online work might have on offline work, or life. There are things I've written here that I wish I would have taken more time to think out, or perhaps not written here at all and kept them in my private journals, or in my brain, unwritten. Not that I've experience huge fallout from what I've written, but I know I've inadvertently affected people negatively and that, I can't help but think, has changed relationships for me.

It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with balance; but perhaps it does. A balance between writing the truth in my life and my head and being aware of how that truth will affect the people around me.

So it's been a summer of learning. And I don't see it stopping any time soon...and that's okay.

My Life This Past Month

I haven't posted anything here in almost a month.

It's not like I've been terribly busy this past month or anything.

This past month I've:

written
procrastinated
fought the darkness
fought the light
spent time with friends
isolated myself
cut my hair - bad, bad idea
been frustrated with and in love with puppy Z at the same time
gone and house/pug sat for my parents
become an Arbonne consultant

My life in a nutshell.

The last few days, since becoming a consultant, I've had an excuse for business. Huh. I meant to spell 'busyness' but I guess business works too. Steep learning curve but it's good for me. I'm already meeting some really cool people and getting out of my head - I had no idea how much I needed that until I started.

The last month for puppy Z has involved learning a few new tricks (she rolls over now, and we're starting her on a military routine - she sits, lays down, crawls a few paces and rolls over before sitting back up - you never know when you're going to need a puppy marine) and chewing on EVERYTHING. Hence the 'in love' and 'frustrated with'. She eats, literally eats, wood, whether that be baseboards or stair edges. And paint. And bits of the carpet. Argh. Just chew on your bully stick, you dumb animal. And then she sits there, all cuteness and little jowls, and how can I stay mad at that?

Lots of learning, on many levels and to many purposes. Life, I guess.

In a nutshell.

Argh

I'm frustrated.

Frustrated with my life.

I hate being unemployed.

I feel like I'm unemployable and I hate it.

I hate feeling like I'm a creative hack.

Like I won't ever act again.

I have a growing hole on both my resumes and there is nothing I can do about it.

When I try things fall through so I wonder why I bother.

I've considered going back to school, to learn something else, something that I could enjoy and actually make a living at too.

But is that giving up?

Or is that reality?

I don't know.

And so I'm frustrated.

Well, That Answered That Question

I have a connective tissue disorder called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Type III. Genetics. Gotta love 'em.

Most of the time it has no impact on my life. No, let me reword that. Most of the time I forget that not everyone experiences pain on a regular basis when they're simply going about their daily routine. I injured my wrists by clapping at a performing arts summer school; the repetitive motion of clapping stretched out the connective tissue in my wrists and now the bones grind and pinch nerves. I usually feel it when I do things like lift a kettle full of water or even just when I carry a plate sometimes, but I tend to ignore it because I need to in order to function. You don't realize how much you need your wrists until they hurt all the time; so that's the main thing that reminds me that my DNA isn't completely on my side.

The geneticist told me that the same injury in my wrists could repeat in my other joints, specifically my ankles. He also said as I aged the natural tightening would help the bones stay in place, but that I'd likely have arthritis in them by then so they'd keep on hurting for other reasons. Oh joy.

Well, my ankles have been bothering me for the last 2 weeks. So, keeping in mind what the good doctor said, I have been wrapping them in tensor bandages whenever I've had to do a lot of walking (such as door to door sales) or high-impact movements (which I don't usually do but I've been doing a cardio exercise regime that includes jumping jacks because I don't want to have a heart attack when I'm 40. The good thing about hereditary ailments is that you can try to prevent some of them).

This morning, after I wrote my post about how unhappy I was with this new job opportunity, I walked to the bus. Rather, I got half-way to the bus and my ankle crapped out. I kept going. I'm very stubborn. But then I realized that if I ignored my body and continued walking, I would likely wreck my ankle the way I wrecked my wrist.

If your ankles don't work, you can't walk.

If you can't walk, you're kind of useless. For anything.

So I phoned my trainer and said I wouldn't be in today, turned around and limped slowly home. I've been home for a few hours, following the RICE thing for injuries, and it still hurts like a - like a painful thing.

$*&#$%#@$!*#%!!!!!

I was going to say that God didn't have to hit me up the side of the head to answer my doubts about this job, but then I thought about it. Didn't I feel uneasy about doing this, and didn't I ignore my soul speaking and keep going?

I did.

Sigh.

Apparently I needed some pain to make me stop and listen.

I'd like to say lesson learned but I know that's probably not the case. All I can hope is that the learning curve won't always this painful.

Have You Switched to Shaw?

Hello! My name is Rebecca and I'm here on behalf of Shaw! I'm in the neighbourhood trying to save people money by bundling their services! What do you currently have with Shaw?

God. Shoot me now.

I just got offered a job working as a door to door salesperson. I've done one training day and I already hate it.

That's probably not a good sign.

The whole atmosphere in the office is that it's all about the dolla dolla bills, yo. I can't. I just can't. I faked interest and enthusiasm yesterday. I'm not sure I can fake it again.

It's a straight up sales job, all commission. The money can be great. My trainer pulled in $275.00 yesterday. She's very persistent.

She also doesn't listen well.

One gentleman told us that he's with Telus and he's not happy with the service, but he wants his word to be good; he signed a contract and he won't break it because he has to look at himself in the mirror every day and that's worth more to him than saving twenty bucks a month. My trainer told him she broke people out of contracts all the time. He responded that he didn't care. His word was his word and he wasn't going back on that. She repeated that she could save him money. Like saving money is what life is about.

Fuck.

I respect that man. His viewpoint is a rare one. He is a trustworthy gent, and that is honourable.

My trainer has no use for that honour. I got a semi-dirty look when I told the man I thought he was respectable. She never told me off for saying anything, but as we walked away she dismissed him as 'old school'.

And the thing is, if you don't sell you don't make any money.

So my question is, do I want to devote any more time to this?

And my dilemma is that I have no other job. I have no other prospects either. I feel guilty even thinking about turning down a potential opportunity in favour of sitting at home on EI. I should take this job because no-one else is interested in hiring me. Right?

At least until I find something.

But what if I never do?

Is this a test of faith, or is this an answer to prayer?

It sure doesn't feel like an answer. How can if be if I feel so strongly about this after one day? I can't buy into the mindset of sales. The game. The chase. The 'kill'. That's what they fucking call it. A sale is a kill. Like we're a 'wolf pack' and we bring down gazelles.

Not interested!

But also poor!

Fuck.

I also can't believe that I will find success and be able to follow my dreams if I pursue a high paying job for a couple of years.

I feel like I'm whoring out my soul.

I guess that's my answer right there, isn't it?

Inspiration + No Excuses = Time For Hard Work

I just learned that "Water for Elephants", by Sara Gruen (which is quite a popular book) was a NaNoWriMo novel.

Also, that one of the Giller Prize nominees was a first novel, by a 26 year old woman (her mother came into the bookstore, very neat experience for me).

All of this to say, that if I want to be a writer, I have no excuse not to be one. I suddenly realized that it is a goal that is completely within my grasp. I could be a published, successful author by the time I'm 28 if I put the work in.

(28 is not a random number, it's actually been my mental goal for a while.)

(Coincidentally, the year I turn 28 is the year my mother will turn 50, and that is her magic number for being a published author too. I picked the number 28 before I realized this. Insert Twilight Zone music here.)

Now my goal is online. People can see it. People will know if I succeed or fail.

I'd better get to work.

Oink, Oink

I spent the last three days with almost all the flu-like symptoms.

Might have just had the flu.

Might have had the dreaded and feared Swine Flu....(insert scary music here).

It's amazing to me people's reactions to hearing that someone had the flu. I was hanging out with some people a few days before I got sick (so while I was the most contagious, sorry guys), and we were all talking about the hysteria surrounding this H1N1 'epidemic' and how it was taking focus from everything else, and what the government was trying to sneak past us while we were all in a paralysis of fear. We were all scoffers at that table, none of us afraid of the flu or of getting it because quite frankly, it's the flu. It hits a bit harder but in most cases people are sick for a few days or a week and then they get over it. I've even heard that most of the cases of flu right now are H1N1 because that's the strain going around, and that most people who have it think they have the regular flu (but that may not be true, I can't remember my source and thus have no way of knowing how accurate this is - but it makes sense to me).

Within hours of our scoffing, when we were hanging out with a few other people who had not been privy to our conversation, I mentioned that S. had the flu and wow, everyone straightened and pulled away from me in minute amounts and asked if it was the Swine Flu - even the scoffers from earlier.

I don't get it. When I say I'm not afraid of getting the Swine Flu I mean it. I'll do all I can short of hermitting myself in my apartment to avoid getting it, but in the end it's kind of outside my realm of control so what's the point of getting all twisted up about it? If I end up in the hospital or if I am one of the small, miniscule percentage who die from it, well...I can't do anything about that. I will either stay healthy, get sick and get better, or get sick and die. That's life in community. That's life in general. You live, you die, you don't always get to choose how that happens.

But apparently some people scoff the fear to hide their fear from themselves and others.

I understand that.

I don't understand their fear in the first place but I understand their hypocritical scoffing.


Either way, I feel better today. Off to work I go. I've been more worried about experiencing some kind of negative reprocussions for calling in sick three days in a row than about ending up in hospital, but if there's one good thing about this fear-mongering, there was no pressure from my employer to go to work once the word flu left my mouth. Hopefully that means I'll still have a full-time job when I look at the schedules today.

Apocalypse vs. The Empty Wallet

A lack of money makes a person desperate.

My faith takes such a beating when I'm stressed about money.

I hate this feeling.

Is this what I've doomed my life to be? Does this have to go hand in hand with being an artist? Do I constantly have to be struggling on a financial level?

I hate how financial stress makes the rest of my life feel stressful too.

I really wish our society wasn't money based - but things are too big for us to change that.

Oh well.

When the zombie attack happens money won't matter anymore. Until then I'll scrape along somehow.

And keep a supply of weapons and food in my apartment. You know. Just being prepared.

Snapshot

I look over and see him lean over and kiss her on top of her head. It's such a tender moment I feel like I'm spying but it makes me smile and warms my heart.

I like moments like that. Especially at work.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Back At Work

Almost everyone I worked with in April is gone.

Just two people and me.

New manager. New assistant manager. New co-workers.

One of whom swears on the sales floor.

One of whom stands at the tills and doodles.

One of whom looks up LOL Cats at the front till computer.

???

Is it a real surprise that work is either crazy hectic or boring as hell?

Cold

I hate having to check my email in the store.

There's people around all the time and I can't be sure that no-one is reading over my shoulder.

That's one of the things I really miss about being home. That and having a house all to ourselves, with only our dirty dishes on the counter.

And the heat.

It's so cold here, even though it's a sunny day. I've been told July gets warmer. It had better be true.

But life is good. Even if I'm cold. And the job is good as well. So I'll stop complaining now.

Northern Life So Far

The week we left for Barkerville my car died. I drove it to Rosebud so that it would be looked after, cared for, started once in a while – so that it would still run when I got back from BC – and on the way there the water pump decided it was no more for this world and the engine overheated and I perhaps cooked my engine. I still don’t know. I left it in the hands of a friend and we’ll see in five months whether I have a car or am in the market.

I do appreciate the bitter irony of the car situation.

The actual trip to BC was made without incident. We drove through the mountains with snow and rain and sun each taking their turn. We didn’t see any animals much to my disappointment. I did see birds – a Great Blue Heron, a few hawks and some ducks of various breeds – but no animals that run on all fours. Unless you count squirrels, in which case I saw one.

The hotel we stayed in was small and much, much dirtier than the images on their website led me to believe. I walked in and said, “I have a reservation.” The woman at the desk said, “You have a reservation? Here?” She sounded so surprised. I knew right then that things were going to be a bit squibby. When she looked down at her papers and called me by name, it clinched it. Obviously the place is not a well-used hotel, as the three vehicles in the parking lot implied. (One of them was ours.) We watched some television and went to bed.

The rest of the trip was also without incident. We ate breakfast in a place that had no fruit on the menu which normally I wouldn’t have noticed but I really wanted French toast with fruit that morning (damn); we commented on the remote farmhouses and ranches and wondered who in their right mind wanted to live out there all year round? Or at all? We kept a sharp eye out for the turn Google Maps had told us about – but when we got to Prince George we realized that the road didn’t exist. (I have since learned that Google Maps was directing us to a road built in the 1860’s which is no longer in use if it even still exists.) In Prince George the highway was being used as a parking lot and we had to drive carefully to avoid hitting mirrors. I have no idea what was going on but apparently it was a big deal, as everyone in town was there. With their dog and their dog’s car.

We explored Quesnel briefly and then went to Wells. The road was long and curvy but we made it there in one piece and found the house we are staying in – the yellow house next to the even yellower community centre. It was indeed easy to spot, as we had been told it would be. We met our roommate, Tim, who is a nice guy and reminded both S. and I of someone we know. It took us almost the entire evening to figure out who – the art teacher from our Certificate year! I don’t think he sleeps much, as we’re always in bed before him and he’s always up before us. When we wake up at night he’s either not home or he’s up eating or drinking coffee. I don’t understand it but that’s just because I like to sleep 10 hours or more a night.

The snow here. Wow. The snow! When we got here it was piled up against buildings, laying in thick white blankets on the baseball diamond – six to ten feet near the house and probably four out in the open. I wish I’d taken pictures as now, after a week or so of sun and (mostly) rain it has shrunk considerably. (Near some buildings it was piled up to the eaves!) It was cold our first few days of work.

We got costumes after a few days, which actually made it warmer. A corset holds in a considerable amount of heat and the dresses hide all the civvies I care to wear underneath them. On the coldest day I was wearing two pairs of socks, long johns, jeans, two shirts, a corset (as well as the necessary modern underwear), a heavy petticoat, my green dress, a scarf, gloves, a wig (to keep my ears warm), a hat, rubber boots and a thick woollen cape.

It was warmer today so I wore my blue dress. I like it quite a bit. It has a lace collar and cuffs and a lacy bustle as well. Those women in the 1870’s sure liked their bustles. Not to sound vain, but I look good in period costumes. A part of me wants to wear those kinds of clothes all the time, except for how sore my back and shoulders get. They’re heavy and really, I couldn’t wear a corset all the time. I like being able to tie my shoes and lean back on chairs and snuggle up on a sofa with a book, all rendered impossible with a properly fitted corset.

However, I was not the only person who thought I looked fine, much to my dismay. Today I collected a follower of the male persuasion, much to the amusement of all my co-workers. I can’t remember his name but apparently he latches on to a different pretty girl each summer and I’m the unhappy target this year. The fact that I have a boyfriend isn’t likely to deter him – one year his object of affection was clearly and obviously married. My boss has had to talk to him before about bothering actors who are working, so if I can’t shake him on my own at least someone will deal with him for me. Actually, my boss gave me and S. permission to kiss – full on French – in front of this guy; this while we are portraying an era where men and women didn’t even touch in public.

Hopefully I won’t need to resort to that.

I’ll try to keep this blog up to date through-out the summer. It’s a bit hard – I have to bring my laptop to the local general store to access the internet and after work it’s the last thing I feel like doing. However, like I said, I’ll do my best.

Another Pet Peeve

I hate it when people interrupt me while I'm helping one customer in order to ask for help themselves.

What am I supposed to do? I'm already busy. Legitimately helping someone, doing my job - I wish I could point out how rude they're being but I can't. Although today I came really close. Some guy, who had already interrupted me once - when I was mid sentence, I kid you not - then proceded to yell at me from across the store, asking "Is there anyone who will help me with this?" He was very impatient. And rude. And I was the only one he could see, and we were all busy with other people.

So I said, as he turned away, "Can you not see I'm busy with someone?" and felt bad instantly only because my customer was so nice and I hated to expose my frustration in front of her. Oh well. Guess what, I'm human too, customer. And idiots annoy me.

At least there were no Children of the Exorcism today.

I Love the Smell of Commerce in the Morning

Today a small child screamed like she was possessed by the devil. Like "Exorcism" screaming, all gravelly. It was impressive. Over and over - "My book! My book!" were the only discernable words. Her mother was trying to buy the book for her but she wouldn't let go long enough for it to be scanned at the till. So her mother took her out of the store, and then when it became apparent she wasn't going to stop, her mother took her away. Her screams eventually stopped - but only because she was out of earshot. After they left, we clerks were the only ones in the store, so we chatted about Devil Girl and her mother, and our childhoods and our parents.

Later a man barged into the 'staff only' area, made a beeline for our bathroom and started using it without shutting the door first. How did he even know there was a bathroom back there? It's not advertised and we don't tell customers about it, much less let them use it. We quickly realized he wasn't quite all there, so at least he wasn't a creep who wanted to expose himself to the Coles girls. But still. It was...surreal. And then he left the store without saying a word.

Just to round things out, the fire alarm in the mall went off twice. It's loud. We have an alarm in our ceiling and it flashes a blue light as it beeps. Beeps is too kind a word. As it shrieks on par with Devil Girl it blinks a calm blue light. If that's for deaf people they get the better end of the deal. Except if I were deaf, I wouldn't realize that meant fire. It's too calm and blue.

That's been my day. The things I would tell S. about if he were here. Sigh.

Thoughts I Repressed Today

"Telling me the title over and over will not help me find the book, so SHUT UP ALREADY."

"If this computer says we don't have it, the other computer won't give us a different answer!"

"Why are you here?"

"Why didn't you follow me - do you think the book will just hover over to you?"

"How am I supposed to find a book based on, 'it's got a silver cover'?"

"Are you buying this book or not? And if so, will you please come back to the till, you moron?"

"Did you not hear what I just asked you?"

(That last one I think almost every day with more and more irritation. Why? Because I am developing a new pet peeve. I'll ask a customer, "Can I help you?" and they'll say, "Yes, I'm fine," and walk away as fast as they can. Did they not hear what I asked? Do they think I'll pressure them into buying Twilight? God Almighty, it makes me want to punch them in the face. It's not like they don't speak English. The ones that don't speak English usually just smile and nod, or say, "Browsing!" like it's a magic word that will protect them from pushy sales clerks. But I don't get a commission from selling books. All it does is give me something to do.)

On a side note, today I actually chased a woman away from the store. All it took was a "Are you finding everything okay?" and she nodded and barely had time to say, "I'm fine thank you" before she was out the door and gone.

I don't understand.

Maybe on my last day I'll say what I'm thinking - but I say that about every job and I never do it. Too polite and professional I guess. Too used to repressing my real thoughts and showing a happy smiling face to a world that doesn't bother to look beneath the surface.

I'm not sure why my thoughts are so dark. I started out the day happily enough. I had way more happy customers than unhappy ones. I had a fairly uneventful benign day at work. And yet I'm just frustrated and fed up with not living the life I want. Not paying my bills with my writing. Not getting paid to tell stories in one form or another.

I enjoy working with books all day.

But I really don't want to do this forever, and every job I get that isn't what I want for my life wears on me quicker and quicker.

Maybe that was the one thought I should have repressed today - just for the sake of my short term happiness.

And maybe it's the one thought I should be most aware of.

No Shame

I have no shame. When I’m at work and I know a man is interested in me and not the books, I walk the very thin, precarious line of flirtation to see if I can make him buy something.

I have a pretty good record so far. Hurrah for the retail world. Just doing my part to stimulate…the economy.

And yesterday I got a phone number out of the deal.

Too bad I’m a) not single and b) 15 years younger than him.

At least he was good looking. He was from Montreal and has a steady job as a flight attendant for West Jet. When I said I’d thought about trying to get hired on there he said he could get me a job.

That was why he gave me his number…or at least the pretence.

I’m not sure whether I can follow up because I don’t know for sure that he had no ulterior motives. He was flirting pretty heavy by the time he gave me his number. At least, most guys don’t say they’re good marriage material in regular conversation.

Oh well. It’s not like I can work for West Jet right now anyways. I’m going to BC for the summer to work as a street performer. Maybe when I come back. If I have no acting work.

We’ll see.

Notes On My Days

Note 1, at work: I should not have to wrestle with my fruit before I eat it.

Note 2, at home: I have bruised my temple from pressing it so hard when I had a migraine. I had no comprehension of my own strength. And wow, my head must have hurt to not notice that I was pushing my skull in that hard.

Note 3, at work: I don't have time to listen to a lecture on evolution. I'm here to help you find books, not listen to you pontificate on books you already own. Unless I've read them, liked them, and we have a conversation about them. Then I'll spare the time.

Note 4, at work: Some really strange people come in here. Some really strange people read books.

Note 5: Are children getting more spoiled? Or am I turning into an old lady - "Back when I was a kid..."
That's pretty much all I have right now. But I wanted to share it anyway.

Working Joe

I spent the first few weeks of January searching for a job. It was an eye-opening experience. It made me realize that at least half of the jobs I've had in my life were handed to me on silver platters, and that I've never not gotten a job I applied for.

It shocked me that I had to hand out over 20 resumes before I heard from anyone. Of course, then I heard from 5 of them. Which is apparently good odds, but still a little blow to my ego. Fortunately one of those jobs was the one on the top of my list, and that's the one I got. Yeay! Especially since I was beginning to think I was unemployable.

So now I spend my days shelving books, finding books for people, selling books to other people, ordering books for some other people, and then shelving some more books. Surrounded by books all day is very relaxing to me. The only down side so far is how dry my hands are getting from handling paper all day. I'd forgotten about that until my skin started to turn white. Ouch. But hand lotion was invented for book-sellers and now I use it excessively.

I'm happy.

It's a relief.

Now I just have to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life and I'm all set.