Life, meet Plans. (Cue $h!t Storm)

So remember like two months ago, when I poured my heart out, and talked about my plans to move to Sevilla? And do you remember how I mentioned that I didn't have an explicitly clear plan, in lieu of the inevitable fact that life happens when you busy yourself making plans? Well my friends, I was right. Boy oh boy, was I right. Life is what happened ALL damn summer, which invariably prevented me from focusing long enough to eat, blog, or plan for my future in Spain. But as of Tuesday evening, I can finally breathe a little easier, sleep a little sounder, and finally start working on my "plan". But in the meantime, let me fill you in on everything that happened...

So in early July, my grandmother passed away after a long eight year battle with Alzheimer' disease. While her passing was not entirely unexpected, it was no less difficult for my family, my mother especially. Such is the way of a family death, there was much to be done and little time in which to do it, especially because the funeral was in Georgia. I don't have to tell you that driving to Georgia for a funeral really REALLY sucks. I do have to tell you that on top of the logistical nightmare that is driving to and from southwestern Georgia (four hours south of Atlanta ) in three days, there was additional CLUSTERF*CK of an event that made this trip one of most emotionally exhausting experiences of my life. Let's just say that when I got back, raggedy and tired as I was, the very next day I went to the Reggae Wine Festival. Not just because I really wanted to go, but because I NEEDED some quality time with my sister and friends, good food, sunshine and alcohol. It literally took me two weeks to recenter myself after that experience. And that's just the starting point...

Following my "under the Andalusian Sun" realization that if I die having never lived in Spain [or Italy, because  hands down the Italians are more fun, but Spanish is a more practical language, Sevilla is where my heart is, and Italy's economy is far worse than Spain's] that I would have lived in vain, I made the decision to sacrifice my beloved bachelorette apartment, and independent living, and get myself new digs and a roommate to save money. [honestly, I had been contemplating it before, seeing how this is a recession and all] So shortly before the above mentioned event, a friend and I agreed to be roommates and we embarked on apartment hunting. I just knew that because we started looking early in the season, that we would have found a place, moved, and be settled by August 1. Well of course I knew wrong. August 1 came and went, and we were still apartment hunting, and then August 3rd came and went, and following an exasperated phone call, we became I--who now needed an apartment and a roommate to share it with, just as the rental season was beginning to wind down.  F#%k. Me. SIDEWAYS! Can you say mass hysteria? Or profuse profanity? What about white hot rage? Oh yes, you can say all of those things, because the following 48 hours, I sounded a cross between George Carlin and Ron Burgundy in a glass case of emotion, minus the racism, and nothing was funny. And let me not forget to mention that at the time this went down, my car had been out of commission for THREE WEEKS.

That's right. After having already stranded me and Alihah on Memorial Day weekend (alternator died just a few short miles after crossing the Bay Bridge) my once beloved '97 Nissan Sentra, "Trixie" had decided she was done with me, and refused to start on beautiful morning sometime in late July. This particular morning was, of course, on the day I was going to take her into a local dealership for a value  assessment. That b!tch! But it get worse, because my mechanic, who I know and trust, couldn't figure out what the problem was. It turned out to be an electrical issue with the ignition switch--which the electrical specialist at the shop NEXT DOOR to my trusted and beloved mechanic had to fix--sans my trusted and beloved discount. Le $Ouch. I couldn't scrap Trixie and just buy a new car because I don't believe in, nor can budget for a new car payment, thus required a working chariot to squire me all over the Baltimore Metro Area to find a suitable used vehicle which I could purchase sans financing. Oh yes, yet another big $OUCH.

So then back to my living situation. Having been abandoned by one potential roommate, and the rental season slowing down, I had to resign to doing the the one thing I REALLY didn't want to: find a roommate on murderersonline.com craigslist. I know people do it all the time and don't get murdered. Heck, one of my fab five found her current roommate on CL [the fact that she kind of hates her roommate is, however, cause for concern], it's just I'm a little paranoid about that sort of stuff. I spent a large part of my childhood watching entirely too much 20/20 and Dateline, and have long since vowed to never EVER do anything that would land me in one of those, "She walked off with that guy laughing her face off, and then we never saw her again" stories. And I also have Kona, and worry that even if said random stranger doesn't murder me, skin me, wear my skin suit like last year's Versace, they still might be a sociopath who would sell my precious poodle to a dog fighting ring over in "The Wire-ville" of West Baltimore. Yes, I seriously thought and feared these things. But after a few interviews with people, I was really more or less worried that it would just be strange to live with say a 50 year old gay man, or a newly divorced, tatted up Soldier [who also looked a lot like Adam Levine, therefore making him dangerously attractive] or try and pretend like I could  sacrificed too much in the way of space and comfort, just to save money for my dreams.

All of these things were happening at the same time, and somewhere between apartment/roommate hunting and car shopping, I stopped eating and sleeping and lost about 5 pounds, which doesn't sound like much, except on my frame it's plenty. So then my skinny jeans had slack in them because I was hungry and stressed and sleep deprived, and just when I thought I was literally about to 'round the bend, things started to look up.

In the last week of August, I found a place. It's everything I wanted [big bedroom, private bath, BIGGER KITCHEN], plus private parking.<--This is a big effing deal, it's more exciting than my bigger kitchen and gorgeous bathroom. And my roommate is my age, so now I don't have to worry about awkward generational gap in terms of me watching Jersey Shore and thinking it's the best thing to happen to reality TV ever.

Then in the first week of September, I found the car. She's black. She's fast. She's mine. I've already discussed her in this post, but just so you know, I call her The Bat Mobile, but you can call her Drusilla.

But there's one last piece to the drama, and that was my current apartment. You see, my decision to move didn't coincide with the cycle of my lease. But my landlord being only slightly shady, agreed to let me out of my lease early, provided my ability to fill my apartment with a new tenant. After three tedious weeks of showing my apartment to roughly 627,354 people, and my moving date fast approaching [umm next Thursday], Tuesday is when I started to get a little nervous that I had not heard from my Landlord about his pending reception of a signed lease and deposit check from a potential renter. But as my facebook friends can tell you, I've been all about having faith. And sure enough, something told me to call "Steve" Tuesday evening, shortly before I was scheduled to show the apartment yet again to potential renters. Well, as fate would have it,  this jackass had already rented the apartment to someone LAST WEEK and failed to tell me about it. Um, massive landlord fail.

You see, if I were CRAZY, like my tightly wound coworker of a certain nickname [crazy Asian guy], I would bitch about Steve's failure to inform me of this pertinent information, and having allowed me to waste my time and the time of several other people, showing an apartment that was no longer available.

But I'm not crazy, I'm f**kin elated. I'm officially free and clear to move. Excuse me while I do a few cartwheels and happy dance like in bad movies, sans the awkward white people dancing. In fact, I think I'll do a choreographed number, in a public space, like in Glee. Because I'm cool like that. and I'm moving out and up! [For less money. and with PARKING. Shazaam!]

Now as you would imagine, I've got some packing to do. I'm also going to finally get caught up on reading what you guys have been up to during my absence, because Im' sure you've noticed, I've been like two weeks behind on reading your blogs.

But once I get settled, I'm going to be back, and it's going to be fabulous!

La Vida Española: the Good, the Rant, & the Caramel Vodka

*Disclaimer*
The following blog post is a melding of exactly how I feel at the moment, which is a mixture of excitement, hope, determination, nostalgia, despair, and anger. Of my own accord, I realize that merging of such topics into one post makes zero sense. But actually, it makes perfect sense. And besides, it's my blog, and I can rant and rave about hating my job and partying in Spain if I want to. I'm sure by now, I've made quite clear the awesome time I had on my trip.  I'm also sure that if you've been following the blog for a while, I've made quite clear that I hate my job, and have been on the relentless prowl for something better, which after 14 months, is still to no avail. Just a head's up, cuz it might get a little weird.

In case you missed it, I will reiterate that my two weeks in España and Morocco were magnificent.  Like unicorns and glitter magnificent.

The cousin's roommate. They both like to make faces, jajaja

see unicorn on his shirt +glitter on me [Actually, it's body shimmer from Victoria's Secret. It's a self indulgent, gratuitously girly, if not completely ridiculous body powder that makes me sparkle like an Oscar statue freshly spit shined by the 8 year old Taiwanese sweat shop worker that assembled it for 61 cents an hour. It is the single most fabulous thing in my makeup bag and most favorite cosmetic purchase of all time] =magnificent!

¡The we were introduced to Sobrasada!

My trip was so good, in fact, that my short time there only solidified what I've long suspected even before my first venture into Europe back when I was in college and even more so every time I return from there: life in these United States just ain't for me! Now one could say that this is just my inner bougie rearing it's ugly head. That of course I would want to up and move to España after having had a great vacation in the presence of great company, as most people feel that way when returning from really good vacations, especially to Europe. The only difference between me and those folks, is that I'm not bullshitting you. I'm currently hatching a 16-24 month plan, I've been forsaking TV for Rosetta Stone, and I've decided that I'm getting a new job by October [DO YOU HEAR ME UNIVERSE?! I WILL GET A NEW JOB BY OCTOBER. SCREW YOU AND SCREW THIS RECESSION. I'M DONE WITH MY BULLSHIT JOB. YOU WILL GIVE ME A NEW FUCKING JOB BECAUSE I'VE PUT IN THE WORK. I'VE GOT A FUCKING BINDER FULL OF SUBMITTED RESUMES TO PROVE IT YOU FECKLESS BITCH! I'M SMART, I'M A FAST LEARNER, I'M QUALITATIVE AND A RESEARCHER BY NATURE AND I YEARN TO BE CHALLENGED, APPRECIATED, AND NEEDED AT MY PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT! SO HEAR ME NOW, OCTOBER WILL COME, AND I WILL BE A NEW EMPLOYEE IN THE DISTRICT OF FUCKING COLUMBIA. GOT THAT? GOOD!] that pays a little better and doesn't me make dread getting out of bed each morning, so I can appropriately save for what will be an expensive transition and not be completely loony by the time I arrive in Barcelona.  Honestly, if a legitimate opportunity presented itself tomorrow, I'd be on a plane with the poodle and chuckin' Obama n' dem the the deuces, and giving my job [the building and the institution itself, not so much my coworkers] the finger and some other choice words, in Español, of course.

But back to the unicorns and glitter. [Yes I am going to completely resume my train of thought as if I didn't just completely lose it on the blog. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta!] You've seen the food, and I've touched on some of the best aspects, like the hot men EVERYWHERE [like even the garbage men were hot, several of them, hell even the gay men were hot, like "hot sthuff ssss!" hot], the partying, the warmth of the Moroccan people, and of course, the shopping.  But there was so much more to it. Imagine if say, the U.S. had a 25% unemployment rate. There would be rioting in the streets. Literally. Well that is the current unemployment rate in España, and the country is still standing, and people are still living their lives, and not committing murder/suicides as was tragically observed at the onset of the economic downturn here at home. It's just in my two weeks there, I got the feeling that the Spaniards know more about living their lives than we do. My cousin whose been there for five years agrees. There's just a jena sais quois about their lifestyle. It's hot shit. And I want to be a part of it.

And then there was the Caramel Vodka. I'm a boozehound, [cue Chelsea Handler] as indicated in these posts. I don't know if I've really made clear my obsession with caramel, but you should know, it's real serious y'all. Real serious. With that said, please enjoy the following presentation of tomfoolery and awesomeness, courtesy of carmel vodka, other various libations, and of course, guapos. The four of us sure did ;-]

It should be mentioned, that perhaps with the exception of my cousin himself, there is probably no one else more upset about his upcoming transfer back to the States than I am. I was really REALLY trying to get back to España before his return. But outrageous plane ticket prices are killing me right now.

Last but not least, have you signed up for the giveaway yet?  Yeah, take care of that here. 

Desperate Times Call for Expensive Measures

So it's been a while since my last post.  And honestly, I debated back and forth whether or not to share this post for several reasons:
1. I'm a private person, I prefer to hold on to personal information rather than share it, even when to the average bear, the information seems arbitrary. [I certainly inherited this behavior from Linda (mommy), that woman can keep secrets, but I digress.]
2. In the spirit of keeping to the theme of this blog, (food, health policy, and the rantings of a crazy woman) this post doesn't necessarily fall neatly into any of those categories, and the key to a good blog is that it is focused, relatable, and entertaining. [and consistent, oops]
3. I'm a lazy ass heifer, and to demonstrate how the topic of this post falls into two of the three aforementioned categories to my full satisfaction means I can't just pull this post out of my ass.

BUT in the spirit of Belle and Toya's latest blog posts of "Do You Know Where You're Going To?" and considering that I haven't posted in almost a week and I'm trying to win this internal battle to not emulate some of Linda's crazier behaviors, I've decided to share.

Last night, I went to my very first, but certainly not last, private tutoring session for Quantitative & Qualitative Data Analysis & Statistics.

[you may be asking aloud, "What?" "Why?" and "How expensive?"]

Without actually telling you what that shit is if you don't already know [for those with inquiring minds, click the link above], I'll just say that its a critical health policy job skill that I LACK [thanks for fucking nothing Master's Degree in Health Promotion] and is a recurring theme that's beleaguered my ONGOING job search, and I've had ENOUGH!

It's not that I didn't know that I needed this job skill when I first began to realize that I hated my effin job and it was time for a new one. I just told myself, "I'll learn this skill in a semi-entry level position within the field." It's what I told myself when I had the mother of all epiphanies and realized that I wanted to work in Health Policy rather than Health Education. I even tried to take a formal class at the University of Baltimore a few months ago, but OF COURSE the intro level class is only offered in the FALL semester [and so help me God, if I'm still at this job come fall, I'm going to do this]. But it was last month, shortly after realizing that my phone interview was all I was going to get out of the PERFECT JOB and hot on the heels of a rejection email from a different job, I decided it was time to grab the bull by the horns.

Aren't you loving my dodgeball reference? I'm no underdog though,  purple cobras!

I have had enough of not even being able to apply to positions because this skill is a mandatory requirement for all applicants.  I have had some education in this subject area, but haven't used it since that take home final senior year of UNDERGRAD, after which I promptly began drinking in celebration of being "done" with my college studies. In hindsight, perhaps that was a poor choice, and in further hindsight, its more than obvious that my college studies are far from over. [God appreciates irony. Usually I do as well, but today, I do NOT].

So after 2 hours of basic statistics roundup, I'm a little bit smarter [it turns out, I'm not completely inept when it comes to this crap, its just requires me to really apply myself and focus] $XX poorer, feeling a bit more encouraged, and certainly 1/2 a step closer to getting where I want to be.

So yes, this post is a rant about how focused I am at getting a job in health policy, and yeah, I got a pile of homework waiting for me at home. So it turns out this is a health policy and rant post. Shazzaam!

If you were in my position, would you do the same? And are you just as pissed as I am that I didn't get this skill drilled into my brain in grad school like I was SUPPOSED to? Are any of my readers experts in this skill and willing to tutor me for free? (or for food, y'all know I like to cook!)

Ungrateful Heifer

I'm an ungrateful heifer.

I've been really really ungrateful this past year. The constant bitching and moaning about hating my job, hating Baltimore, not having enough friends who live locally, being broke, family woes, etc--[I may not have bitched to you about all of these things, but I've been bitchin']-- needs to quiet down for a bit.

So I'm trying to appease my ungratefulness by sharing with you my blessings. Because in spite of my struggles, there are many things I've been blessed with:

1. Having a job. Yeah, I'm not crazy about my job, but at least I have one, which means I can remain to live ALONE in my cute single gal apartment, in my totally awesome neighborhood which enables me to walk to work, walk to several bars and pizza shops. when the snow came, it was all good, everything was walking distance, and i was fortunate to have parked my car on the 1 block that wasn't "no parking during snow emergency" or else i would've been towed like many ppl in my 'hood. Jesus Loves Me.


2. Not getting dead in Baltimore. So I hate this city, but like my neighborhood most of the time [the gayborhood], and I don't need a roommate, [something I'll have to sacrifice once I move to the district]. I have, on more than one occasion, walked Kona waaay late at night, come home a little drunk from DC via the train waaay late at night, locked myself out of my apartment both times at night, and have not been a victim of a violent crime. The Lord protecteth babes and fools.

3. My friends and my sister. So I only have two close girlfriends who live in Maryland, and they live in Towson, a suburb of Baltimore. And even though we don't get together often enough because we're all busy and it's a pain sometimes to travel and find parking, not drive drunk, etc, whenever we do get together, its always great fun. But I ALSO have my older sister who lives in Baltimore, who lets' me do my laundry at her house, is always down for a movie date, and I'm friends with all her friends (I'm like their little sister) so I should try harder to hang out with her and her friends when mine aren't available. And all my other girlfriends live in the quad-state area. NY, DE, PA, VA. So its not like I have to catch a plane to play with them, it just requires planning and gas money.

4. Not Being that broke. It turns out, I'm not really that broke, I just wish I had MORE money to spend [and save]. I've been paying myself first via automatic debit to ING [Lawd bless it] AND still manage to shop smart every now and again fairly often. Remember that super amazing awesomely fantastic vacation I mentioned in this post?? Well plane tickets have been purchased! I'm spending 14 days in Spain and Morocco in July! and the best part is I'm going with my big sister, and two of my gal pals Hillary and Alihah . First stop: Barcelona, then Madrid, to Seville or some city close to it where my cousin in the Air Force lives [can you say FREE lodging?!], off to Marrakesh, and then back to Seville-ish. Can you say TAPAS?! Are you Jealous?! I also purchased my tickets to see Lady Gaga in DC [!!!] and I'm celebrating my Birthday next weekend at a swanky eatery. Obviously, I'm not too broke to enjoy myself.  I'll just be spending the next few [all] weekends at home. Who wants to come over and drink hang out this weekend??

5. My family. After seeing the movie Precious, let's just say I'll never complain again. My mom is NOT crazier than a barrel of monkeys, she just has a unique perspective, lol. And besides, it could always be worse. They just worry me sometimes, but whose family doesn't?

6. Small miracles. So I've lost my work badge a total of three times now. But each time I've lost it, I found it, which is great because otherwise I would have to pay $50 to replace it. Most recently, I thought I lost my work badge in Jersey while home for Easter. It turns out, I dropped it on the street while walking the poodle, and someone taped it to a street light post on my block. I also locked myself out of my apartment on Monday EVENING--like after 9pm, with the poodle! Normally my older sister has my spares, BUT this time my former coworker who lives in the city had them because she watched the poodle for me on MLK day. THANK GOD she had them because my sister was in Michigan on Monday. And I would've been shit out of luck. Did I mention that Jesus loves me?

7. I'm alive, of sound mind and body, of firm spiritual foundation, of solid moral compass. The Lord wakes me up each day, protects me from being hit by a car on my walk to work, and is obviously trying to teach me a lesson in faith and patience. So let me shut it up for a while, and be grateful for my blessings.

So even though I have had "a week", I'm not gonna bitch about it. I'm gonna county my current blessings, and prepare to receive my future ones.

Sorry to get all philosophical and preachy on you...I know its not what you expect from me, but I like to throw people off their game. [kinda like this game I play when I'm the 'burbs called oxymoron stereotypes, but I won't discuss that today, probably never actually]



Care to share any of your blessings?

RE-JECTED!

So Friday was a rough day.  Because I got an email from a job I submitted my resume to back in February  And they said thanks, but "no, thanks". Ouch.

It's not that rejection isn't expected in my job search. I mean I've only been looking for a new job since May 2009 (along with 3 million other Americans).  Since then, I've probably submitted 6421 resumes and cover letters, and have had 2 interviews, 1 for a job I wanted--ouch to that rejection email, and 1 for a job I didn't want nor apply to but went anyway--and it was a disaster.  

I KNOW that I should be grateful to have a job. I AM GRATEFUL. Because as far as I know, I have a job until July--I'm contractual, remember?

I KNOW that this job market is terrible, and that people far more talented and qualified than me are out of work and can't get work.

I KNOW that I must "focus more on my desires more than my doubts, and the dream will take care of itself"

I KNOW that I must be steadfast in my faith.  "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.-Philippians 4:6.

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW! But guess what? Right about now, none of that shit matters!. That stupid email that was chock full of phrases like "stronger candidates" and "promising future" really got me down. It's not so much the fact that I didn't even get an interview [trying not to be bitter], its the fact that with each rejection comes the feeling that I'm NEVER going to get out of this job--and that thought is enough to make want to do something that looks a little like this:

minus me being a white, male, and 2 years old.

When I got this job, I was only planning on staying two years with the expectations that I would have opportunities to grow professionally, be challenged by the work I do, and feel valued and/or needed at this job.  With my two year anniversary giving me dirty looks, none of the stated expectations ever having been met, the thought of working here for another year is enough to make go digging through the cabinets for a sharp plastic knife and ending it all at my desk right now. [I'M NOT SERIOUS, I SAID IT FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT, PLEASE DON'T PUT ME ON SUICIDE WATCH! (as if i would, I'm going to Spain in July, and who would take care of Kona?!)]

I know I'm wallowing in self pity. Guess what? I don't care. I know self pity is completely pointless. Guess what? I still don't care.
I want a new job, I want out of Baltimore, I want the people I had a phone interview for the perfect job to call me back for a real interview already! [now accepting prayers, well wishes, shooting stars, etc] I want to not lose my marbles over this. I want I want I want!


I need to get over it.

Back my regularly scheduled job searching now...