Jessica’s Blog-O-Matic

Eminem’s new album RELAPSE is THE SHIT.  I fucking love it!!!!!!!

Work has been crazy.  The girl I hate, Julia, quit, and now I have to work 6 days a week for the next few weeks.  Fun stuff.

Tonight I’m eating pizza and watching Taken/Caprica.  Haven’t decided which yet. Maybe both.

Did you know that I used to be a crazy person?  I have proof.  Raw, embarassing, cannot-be-shown proof.  I used to write in a livejournal while I was crazy.  I think if I hadn’t written my crazies down, they would have consumed me.  And now I have them to re-read and reflect upon.  I know where I have been, and what I am capable of becoming.

Today I made a list of things I had to do, in order of importance.  If I did all of them, I got a reward.  I am doing well, but now I don’t want to go and buy things because I had a fight with Cole about money and I’m worried now.  Also, he isn’t coming home for a while, which is great. Just great.

Now I must hop in the shower before I go finish my errands, because I am gross and need to be cleaned.

Also, I now know what The Borg is.  And I feel good about that today.

I had a dream last night that included so much crap about my life in the past few years.  I dreamed about going home and my parents being together again, I saw my college friends as if we hung out every day, and my bother and I were just kids again.  It was like some family reunion and everything was happy.  We were all at my dad’s : mom, her parents, my brother and I, my other grandparents, cousins- all in the house my mom used to live in and that I grew up in after fourth grade.  In the dream, the flooring was this weired, kid-proof plastic that my dad had supposedly installed a long time ago.  But then all of a sudden my dad started tearing up the plastic flooring because the kids weren’t there anymore.  And he was talking about how my mom was going back to her house and the reunion was over and it was all over.  Nothing was the same, it was all broken again, and I started crying in my dream and then I woke up crying.

I thought that I had dealt  with my parents’ divorce a long time ago but I’m not sure if it’s something that easily goes away.  I haven’t felt much in the last few months because of the morphine I’m taking every day for my back pain- it numbs everything else, including emotions.  But I forgot to take one yesterday and I guess this is the result.  A friend warned me that this would happen- when you come off of this shit, all those feeling and emotions and pain you had been numbing before will come rushing back in full force.  And I haven’t fucking cried like this in forever.  I mean, balling my eyes out, snot everywhere.  I’m still crying right now as I write this, but I have to get it out.

The thing about the divorce is that I wasn’t there to see it, to stop it, to deal with it.  I was at college, and I was already screwing up my life with a stupid boyfriend and partying.  I can’t even remember the conversation, but I think my mom told me on the phone that she had bought her own house and was moving into it soon.  It’s so blurry to think about, I’m pretty sure I blocked that memory out or drowned it.  I just wasn’t there and that it so frustrating to me.  Ever since that moment I still haven’t been there.  I’ve been in Austin or L.A, or at Cole’s apartment in Dallas…. not able to come home and stay for a while.  The longest I’ve stayed since I last lived with either my mom or my dad was probably a week, this past Christmas.  Since 2006 it’s been weekends, one night at home, or maybe 3 days.  God, I haven’t been there, I’ve always tried to get away, and now I’m realizing that.  Now I want to go home because I miss it so fucking much.

The thing that really broke my heart open this morning was when I thought about my brother.  He WAS there when my parents broke up.  He was still in high school.  How did he deal with it?  What was it like to see them falling apart?  Was he there the day she moved out?  Did he see the furniture truck and run to his room to cry?  Did he stop playing his guitar for one second to notice that she was leaving and not coming back?  I just don’t know these things.  I want to.  I need to know them, I think.

I went off to my first year of college with an intact family.  I came home and everything was broken.  So ever since I’ve tried to avoid being at home.  Is that why I’m in L.A.?  Is that why I’m pursuing a dream that seems more and more unattainable each day?  Why do I want something so different than what my parents had, a career that nobody in Texas has?  Why did I feel so alienated from my hometown friends… because I had gone to rehab or because my family had become a broken family?  There really aren’t alot of those in the place I grew up. All of my high school friends’ parents are still together.  Maybe I’m ashamed.

In Austin I used to think I was happy because I never woke up sad.  I used to think that about L.A. too.  Why did I wake up sad in my dad’s house so much?  What was it about Dallas that made me unhappy?  It’s not a place, I know that.  It’s inside of me.  It’s me that makes me unhappy.  Someday I’ll wake up crying in Tahiti.  I just can’t get far enough away from me.

I’ve really been wanting to write, and I need to.  Last night I dreamed that I got a decision letter from USC- they weren’t accepting me for fall but I could transfer next spring.  Which was confusing, even in my dream, as USC does not accept spring admissions for this program.  So basically I hadn’t gotten in, and they had listed the reasons why.  Apparently all my writing samples came back to only one line of thought, I wasn’t smart enough, and some other horrifying things.  I really thought it was all true and I think I cried.  Then I woke up, thankful that it hadn’t really happened… yet.

I do have my heart set on USC.  If I don’t get in, I think I will hold out a year and apply again.  I don’t think UCLA is worth my time and money.  If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right.

On a random side note, I have these two matching cuts on the edges of both my middle fingertips.  Isn’t that weird? It hurts a lot to type.

Also, I think someone, perhaps myself, should invent – get this – a coffee tumbler.  You know, like a spill-proof, sippee cup for coffee.  Coffee is just way too lethal NOT to put in a tumbler, don’t you think?  (I realized this last Friday after spilling coffee on my keyboard and on my white skirt.  And that was on Friday.  You know, the 13th.)

Speaking of which, last Friday was literally the day from hell.  After the coffee spillage on my WORK clothes, I had to go to WORK after MTV.  A long day from the start, right?  The salon was crazy insane busy.  Like, I didn’t have one  second to get ahead on my paperwork, to give everyone lunches in the computer, or to clock everyone out as they left.  I didn’t get to start on the closeout paperwork until 9:30 or 10.  And it went on forever.  I felt like I was just plodding along through mud, you know? I had so much to do, and my back was KILLING me because I had no morphine, no vicodin, and I was exhausted.  Not only that, but I lost probably about 45 minutes due to messed up tickets and math errors from the morning shift, a receptionist that I fucking cannot stand. 

So, it was at 11:30pm that the computer started to warn me that it would auto-closeout at 11:45.  I still had so much work to do but it was then that my spirit broke.  I was frantically trying to fix everyone’s time clocks, because it was fucking 11:30 and half the staff was still clocked in!  That was seriously my bad.  I should have at least tried to get that done because if you fuck up the time clock its really hard to fix.  I was just so swamped that day and I really thought I had covered everything with my best efforts.  Anyways, the computer shuts itself off and I’m screwed- There were still 5 people with messed up clocks.  I hadn’t made a drawer count, and so I called cole and started crying a little bit.  He told me to call my manager, which I did, and realized I should have done hours ago.  She helped me get the drawer open and told me to just make the deposit and leave it all and she would fix it the next day.  She is so sweet.  I felt so bad because it was my first shift by myself and literally every little thing that isn’t supposed to happen normally, you know, the rare occasions you’re not really trained for- well those happened on Friday.  Now I don’t think I’ll ever get to close again for awhile- which is the better shift for making money. Agh.

I haven’t posted in awhile because I got a job and things have been very busy.  I also have been doing a lot more actual work at MTV.

I just deleted an entire paragraph about how I really feel.  It’s probably best not to put that shit in writing, yes?

Anyways, I do really feel that I am lacking in enthusiasm for my internship.  I am definitely tired of being an intern, definitely tired of doing overly-simplified tasks.  Today Dickie and I actually created a little internal daily newsletter thing, and it looked great, thanks to Dickie.  But I’ve been at this internship for two whole months, and now they decide to give us something creative to do?  I don’t know, it felt great to do that one small thing, that probably won’t even matter to the department execs who will start getting it in their inboxes… But overall I just felt so down and eventually frustrated today.  It started with getting out of bed and just went downhill from there.

I’ve been so… ill lately.  The past 2 years have not been great for me in terms of health.  First it was the knee, now my back… but its also the myriad of other annoying, non life-threatening yet high-maintenance issues I have that make me sound like a hypochrondriac.  I was diagnosed with fairly severe IBS when I was 20 years old.  All that really means (after having a colonoscopy) is I have to be careful with what I eat and take two expensive medications twice a day in order to live my life.  I’ve always had asthma and allergies, and of course there’s the “rheumatoid arthritus” shenanigans.  I’m tired of being tired, and sick of being sick.  All of these things add up to me waking up feeling like shit every morning, quite literally.  Everything hurts or aches, it even wakes me up before my alarm clock.  I called it being “dopesick” because of the morphine.  If I don’t take it every day, I feel nauseous and achey.  If I do take it every day, I only feel that way in the morning.  It lowers my appetite and it makes me kind of foggy all day.  And it doesn’t even kill all of the pain when I’m at the salon.  I take about 6 advil a day and I try to do only 1 morphine.  Eventually I’ll have to take more or get yet another pain medication.

Anyways, this post was supposed to be about how I’ve been feeling about my job and life, not my health.  The point is, I realized today in my complete mopiness that, although I don’t truly enjoy MTV anymore, or interning in general, I think the health problems are starting to get to me.  I actually broke out in hives the last 2 times I’ve been to MTV, so there’s definitely something there that’s bad for me.  I changed desks today so hopefully that won’t happen again.  But maybe I’m just disillusioned with the whole entertainment industry.  It gets to everyone like that, I know.  I think that’s why I’m in love with my salon job.  I go in, I serve customers, I get paid, and I go home.  There’s no striving or dealmaking or…. desperation.  Yeah, I can stay with this company and get promoted, so I work hard towards that end, but I’m not trying to work my own agenda there.  I think grad school will be great, but I also think taking a break this spring and summer away from entertainment will help me enjoy getting back into it.  Right?

Way too good.

Oh yes.  I have since found my inhalor and have been using it instead of dying.  But when paired with coffee… damn it makes me so shaky and jittery.  So this morning I get in and get my jittery on, not really worried because I generally don’t do much here at MTV. 

Kristina gets in at 9:30: “Hey can you cover James’ desk today? He’s at jury duty.”

Me: “Um, ok… (??!)”

Kristina: “Great. If you wanna head on over there and get started, I’ll be right over after I make 2 phone calls. Maybe Scott of Josh can show you what to do.”

And so I collect my stuff for the move and Scott comes over to show me some stuff, but we don’t know James’ password or have access to his email or contacts.  Scott gives me a run-through on how to roll calls on these phones, and tells me very specifically what to say.  I start to get very nervous  – the way I used to get at Red Varden where you they had a strict, no-wavering-whatsoever of the phone script policy.  I’m suddenly aware of how much my body is shaking from the coffee/inhalor combo, but my nerves don’t help either. And it’s not like I don’t know how to do this, because I do and I have done it before. But the pressure of Scott giving me exact specifics on what to say, plus the fact that I’ve never actually met Aaron, and the “he’s really important and I’m gonna ruin everything” type attitude- well let’s just say I fucked up on the movie phone practice calls a few times with Scott.

But after like, 3 tries, I got it, and I felt really comfortable. I even rolled a call, got VM, and went back to my call without dropping anything wrong. But I forgot to get a phone number. Oops.

So I don’t make that mistake again, but JAmes calls and says I don’t have to roll any calls, here’s my password, and just take messages and put them in the task sheet. Really. Freaking. Simple.

I have sinced of course calmed down, both mentally and physically.  Maybe this is due to my perusing of James’ various Jonas Brothers posters adorning his walls.   Who knows. 

I also rode the Big Blue Bus today. Go me.  Except when I got on, I couldn’t quite figure out where to put my quarters? Because in Austin I always just swiped my student ID card. And the guy was like, “You’ve never rode a bus before, have you?”  And I replied, quite weakly , “Uh, not… in this, uh… town.”  Because the buses are different in every town, of course.

My asthma is killing me.  Literally. I might suffocate here any minute.  What a fucked up disease, you know?  I mean, it’s not as bad as others I guess, but like, it’s an incurable restriction of your bronchial tubes that doesn’t stop unless you have medicine. And my medicine is at home.  I’ve  been fine for 6 months.  This just started yesterday and I should have put my inhalor in my purse, so I’m an idiot. but jeez.

Anyways, I got hired this week as a salon coordinator at Carlton Hair.  They are a huge corporate hair salon chain and the benefits and pay are good.  I’m really excited, I had to drive (er, Cole had to drive, I rode) to Irvine, CA to attend the new hire orientation.  I start training this Sunday, I think, and they still don’t know if they wanna put me at the Beverly Center or at the Marina del Rey location.  Either one would be great, I think, and both would be the same commute.  I’ve been looking into the bus system, which has been greatly improved upon in LA in the last years.

I also worked on a script earlier this week. Go me. I wrote about 3 whole pages.  Baby steps.

Oh also also, I’ve been prescribed morphine for my pain. Awesome. I really need to get a temporary sponsor.

Today I was in so much pain.  Physical, raw, nauseating pain.  Except I didn’t really get nauseous, so I’m not like a cancer patient but I promise I’m not being melodramatic.  Of course my back hurts and the muscles that have been spasming and hurting for the past 9 months are finally giving way and the surrounding muscles are taking up the torture.  The pain spreads down my ass, my thighs, and all the way into my knees and calves.  Then it crawls around my hips and tugs on my lower abs and hip flexors.  I feel it down to the bone and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get comfortable.

Now, however, I’m experiencing a different pain.  In April of 2007, I was in a car accident that left me with unexplained stabbing pain and throbbing in my lower left abdomen.  It was bad at first, I had it all checked out and they couldn’t figure out why.  Eventually the pain lessened and I ignored it but now it’s been hurting alot.  It hurts so bad that I have to stop during certain activities.  And it’s spreading to the other side, and up into my stomach.  I seriously feel like I’m going to go crazy from the constant, unexplainable, weird pain all over my body.

I can’t work out, and I’m gaining weight, and I’m extremely unhappy about that.  I want my life to be better.  I’ve been doing things I need to do, going to meetings, and I’m going to get even stricter on my already low-carb diet.  I’m accepting the fact that I cannot exercise right now.  But what I can do, and the only thing that will keep me sane, I think, is to write. And not just in this blog, but on all the ideas that live in my brain and in my notebook.  I’m going to start working on those now, instead of trying to kill myself at the gym when I really shouldn’t even be there.

And now the vicodin is making it hard to type so that’s that.  Wish me luck.