joinusneekah

An open letter to the male lushes of Fredericksburg:

If you're going to try to hit on me by showing off how well-read you are, you had better be damn well read. Because I, unlike most of you, do read. A lot. Especially the classics, which are among my favorite books. If everything you know about Charles Dickens came from A Muppet Christmas Carol and Oliver and Company, I'm going to notice, as I really do read a lot of Dickens. If you're going to tell me how moved you were by Faust, you should know whether you read Marlowe or Goethe. And for god's sake, don't try to impress me with your intimate knowledge of the Bible. You're in a fucking liquor store, just like you are every day. I don't need to hear your sermons.

If you're trying to impress me by telling me I'm pretty/beautiful/hot (or, even worse, by wolf whistling -- you know exactly who you are, mister buys-a-half-pint-of-Remy-every-other-day-in-the-gray-hat), don't waste your time. I've already heard in on this shift, and I'll hear it at least a few more times. I heard you the last time you were in here and complimented my looks. And no, I'm still not giving you a discount. I don't have the authority to give discounts, which is what I'll tell you when you ask, but I probably wouldn't give you one anyway, because I don't like you.

Before you ask, I am not in high school. I am not underage, I am old enough to drink, and yes, I know I look like a twelve-year-old. I've heard it all before. If you persist, I'm going to tell you I'm 38. I'm not, but that always shuts you up.

And, please, take your receipt. There's a trash can right outside, but don't tell me to keep it, don't leave it on the counter, and don't say "You can throw that away, sugar." It's not a privilege for me to clean up your trash, and if you smile and wink at me while you're doing it I'm going to get pissed.

One last thing: don't touch me. Don't try to touch my face when you tell me I'm pretty, don't take my hand as I walk by, don't try to goose me, or pinch me, or grab me. I don't like to be touched, even by the people I love (as any of my friends, with the exception of maybe Elijah, will back up from experience). I really don't like to be touched by icky old men who drink a fifth of gin every day, men who have more dirt on their hands than I have in my front yard. I really don't like to be touched by men who think I'm "loose" just because I work at a liquor store, or who think I must be a dipsomaniac because, hey, I'm surrounded by temptation. I really don't like to be touched by people who I don't know, in general.

So, please: come in, buy your rotgut, and get out. I have things to do, and I have no interest in you as a person.

Sincerely,

Monica.

P.S. -- One of our regulars came into the store this afternoon after being rejected from the barbershop next door, where they refused to cut his hair because there was too much dirt in it. They wouldn't even shampoo it for him, it was that gross.

I got this email today:

"Good morning Monica. The GRE scores could very well have reached the graduate school at this point. However, because of the high volume of applicants and paperwork, that department may have not uploaded the scores to the database yet so that they are viewable to you. Please give it a little more time. Also, please do not be concerned that you will miss the HiLS deadline. The graduate school will realize that you have submitted all of your documents on time despite when they upload them. However, I will email them to make sure that they have received your scores.
Nyjiyyah Williams
Student Assistant for Student Services
University of Maryland iSchool"

Finally, something good happened, on this the worst day in a string of bad days, starting in August and continuing almost unbroken until now. At least my chances aren't shot, because of a technicality.

Today, I had a conversation with a moviegoer who asked me how it was that I managed to work during the day when I clearly belonged in school. I explained to him that I didn't belong in school, and that I had in fact recently graduated from college and was looking for a full-time job so I could get away from the cinema. He asked me when I graduated, and I told him May, and he said "Oh, that's too bad. My company is hiring, but we don't hire any 'recent graduates' who have been out of school for more than four months, because we assume that they were either too lazy to find a job or had something wrong with them that made other companies reject them."

I am completely fucked.

I do have an interview coming up, though, in the Colonial Forge ABC Store. It's the most promising thing I've had come up since PIRG rejected me in April.

I don't wanna be a liquor store clerk forever. My dad says someone has to give me a break eventually, but I don't think they will. After all, I have nothing going for me, at all. I have a mediocre degree in a useless subject and no practical work experience that doesn't involve popcorn. I can't get interviews. Most of the time, I don't even get rejection letters. I just wait and wait for replies that never come. If something good doesn't happen soon, something's going to give. I can't keep this up for much longer, I can't.

Okay, first of all, read this. It will make this post much easier to understand.

The rest of the entry is cut for pictures.

( Read more...Collapse )

Tomorrow, Heather will be MOD and she says that it's okay if I make a stamp while I'm working, and Foster says it's okay if we hide it at Regal (although I don't think he knows what letterboxing is, really). So that should be fun. And Elijah is going to make a personal stamp soon, I hope. I'm all excited.

All this letterboxing fun almost makes up for the fact that I got two flat-out rejections today. Almost.

One offhand comment, and I'm over the moon. And that worries me, but only a little bit. The things I've been upset about haven't gone away, but I feel much better about them. And he doesn't even know I've been upset. That's why I'm worried. And also sunburned. But mostly happy.

On my way home from the library/post office/courthouse today, I came up behind Garrette Turner (the bane of my elementary-school existence, but I haven't seen him in six or seven years). When he looked at me, he said "Hey, Monica!" And I said hello. I was rather surprised that he remembered my name, as I was just one of his older sister's friends.

Then he said "Did you ride all the way to the library?" I toyed with the idea of telling him that I actually went all the way to the post office, which is about twice as far, and then answered in the affirmative. And he said "Wow. That's really far, good job." And I rode past him.

Not only did he remember my name, he was mildly impressed by my bicycle-riding prowess. I'm moderately upset by this, but I can't really put my finger on why.

So, applied for a job, interviewed for said job, got scheduled for a second interview and asked to provide a writing sample on a piece of recent news.

I'll love you forever if you read it and tell me what you think...

( Read more...Collapse )

Two anecdotes:

1) I went swimming yesterday. I did not do this because I am out of shape (although I am) or because I needed the exercise (although I did). I did this because I like to swim. I enjoy the way it sounds when I'm underwater, I like the way it feels cool but not too cold, especially if the air is warm, and I like that I float. I have trouble staying underwater. I bob like a cork if I try. I'm not sure if it's because I'm somewhat fat -- I know people fatter than me who sink like stones -- but I have to exert much more effort to stay on the bottom of the pool than almost anyone else I know.

That said, I both am and am not a very good swimmer. I am in that I have consistently kept myself from drowning. I can stay afloat and I can propel myself in my chosen direction without too much hassle. That said, I am a horrible swimmer when it come to formalities. I can swim properly, I just don't really like to. I'm not in a hurry and I don't want to go anywhere fast. So, I bob around a flail my arms and dog paddle and blow bubbles. If it were a fun pool instead of a pool designed for exercising, I would just sit on the bottom and do headstands and jump around. But that's rude to the people who actually want to exercise, so I pretend to swim laps. I know I'm not breathing properly or kicking my feet right and I know my butt sticks up in the air and I swerve around in the lane. But I am having a ton of fun.

Someone made fun of me yesterday, I think. He was swimming in my lane (even though the one next to me was empty) and he came up next to me and said "Do you want me to teach you how to swim?" So I switched to front crawl and came back and he just kind of looked at me. And then I returned to my dog paddle, as it were.

It's really bad etiquette to talk to other swimmers who are trying to ignore you. It's also bad etiquette to swim in someone's lane if there are other ones open, at least at GMU's AFC. I get spoken to a lot. I assume it's because I look silly.

2) I just got back from La Pat in the Johnson Center, because I decided that I didn't want to go to Southside for dinner. I asked the guy if I could have a create-my-own-sandwich sandwich, and then told him that all I wanted on it was cheddar cheese and that I wanted it cooked in the grill. And he just looked at me. And then he asked if I was sure I didn't want meat and I was sure I didn't want vegetables and I asked him if he'd ever heard of a grilled cheese sandwich. He had.

So the sandwich making dude called my number before he made my sandwich and said "Do you really only want cheese on your sandwich?" And I said yes. And he said "Are you sure?"

Apparently GMU has a problem with the concept of Grilled Cheese. Maybe I'm the only person left who eats them.

That's all.

I was minding my own business yesterday and walking back from the bus stop, and I heard this one kid say: "But, yeah. Condoms don't feel good, for either party. All girls should have to be on the pill, it's not fair that men have to worry about pregnancy and shit."

Two things:
1. How does he know that condoms don't feel good for either party? It's not like he's Tiresias or something. I mean, maybe someone told him, but isn't that a judgment call, too?
2. Girls and men. This always bugs me.

I was amused and exasperated, all at once.

I waited at the bus stop yesterday for half an hour after the bus was supposed to be there (and I was at the stop ten minutes EARLY) and it was the last bus so I assumed that I'd missed it and started walking home but as soon as I got away from the stop the bus came and it was raining but I couldn't catch up and so I followed the bus all the way home in the dark in the rain late at night and I was so MAD. And I did not have a jacket and I was wearing all black and there are no streetlamps and it was raining and I'm pretty sure the bus driver saw me and kept going anyway and I was SO MAD. I stuck my tongue out at the bus, too, after I got back to campus, but I don't think anyone saw me. Whatever. It made me feel better.



If you could choose any fictional character to be president, who would you choose and why?

I couldn't choose between Spock, because he always looks at every angle and chooses the most logical solution and doesn't let emotion factor in at all, or Albus Dumbledore. Because he's freaking Dumbledore. Elijah, of course, chose Steve Rogers (Captain America), which is actually a surprisingly good choice from him. He's good at these sorts of questions. My friend Monica chose Scooby-Doo. I don't know why, she wouldn't explain. The douchebag in my presidents class chose House. I was like "You can't choose a house" and he just called me dumb. Apparently he meant the TV show doctor. I thought it was a good question, personally.

My three roommates are apparently fighting because Cat keeps turning on the air conditioning and Alex keeps turning it off (because it's FEBRUARY) and Cat keeps threatening to turn Alex in to housing for something or another. I, personally, am on Alex's side, but I have a fan and a space heater so I really don't care much. I mostly just want to stay out of it. It's getting irritating, though. I'd like to see how Alex ups the ante.