The Island of Suburbia

Do you guys remember when I sold my car and wrote that blog about how I sold the car because of the epiphany I had one day that I had my car only to get to my job and had my job only to pay for my car? Well, in the last couple weeks, since Tony broke up with me, I’ve realized what a pain in the ass it can be to not have a car at your disposal at all. I feel like I live on Suburbia Island right now. I’m pretty well stranded out here. I mean, there isn’t even a grocery store within walking distance of my house. It was obviously people with cars who designed neighborhoods in this manner.

Anyway, what this means is I’ve been looking into buying used cars and motorcycles. I’ve been considering getting my motorcycle’s license and trying to figure out how it would work financially. And what I just figured out is that even if I bought a motorcycle (less expensive than a car) I’d have to get a “real” job to make the payments, so once again I’d be in the frustrating paradox of working to keep my vehicle and having my vehicle almost solely for the purpose of going to work. And then there’s the added stress of figuring out what the heck I’d do with that vehicle during my time in Istanbul. So, um, I guess what I’ve decided is that I’d rather get straight A’s again next semester than to buy a vehicle. I’ll just have to get well versed in the ways of buses and light rail, which really isn’t that bad, except for the sad fact that the bus to my house only operates until 8 p.m.

 

Grad school stress, a temp job, and an assignment for you

I am SO stressed out right now. I just got an email from my grad school advisor letting me know that one of my required courses is full already … and I don’t get to register for two more months! How do I already have complaints about Sac State and I haven’t even started back there yet? I went in today to talk to the registration office about this problem, hoping that they’d say only the undergrad seats were taken but that they hold a few seats for grad students (they don’t). My advisor is currently trying to get the dean to add a second section of the class, but if it doesn’t work out I’m going to have to take 12 units across two semesters, therefore dragging out my grad program and wasting money I don’t have to waste. Super sad for sure!

Some good news though (sort of) is that I’m going to have a regular nine to five (well actually it’s 8:30 to 4:30) for the next couple of weeks. I’m going to be correcting the essay sections of standardized tests. Super fun, huh? I’m actually really looking forward to it. I had tons of assignments last month from a couple of magazines and am really ready for a mental break … and some regular income.

OK, last thing: For any of you knitters or crocheters out there, I want to put together some afghans for Warm Up America, who has teamed up with the Ronald McDonald House to provide pretty blankets for the children they help. What I need from you is a commitment to make SEVEN squares at 9″ by 7″ each. And they need to be made out of synthetic yarn (aka not wool). You can get some ideas for patterns here. Please let me know if you plan to participate and I’ll send you my address (if you’re far away) or we’ll schedule a get-together (if you’re close). I’m going to set an arbitrary deadline so this doesn’t drag on for months without any results. SO that means you need to get your SEVEN squares to me by JULY 12. That gives you two months, or about enough time to do one square a week.

OK then, talk to you all soon!

 

I’m that girl: The one using the Internet in a bar

Can I just say how glad I am that my favorite local bar/restaurant has free internet access? When I come to Sacramento with Tony, which is most days, I come here early in the morning because the library doesn’t open until 10 a.m. Of course, I come here for more than just the free internet. I also love their breakfast. Their lunch food isn’t really my favorite and it’s a bit too pricey for a unemployed loser living with her boyfriend’s parents. I’m a little bit put off my breakfast right now though because of the urban hipster couple sitting near me. Urban hipsters. Heh.

So anyway, if you’re wondering why I come to Sacramento so often, it’s because I don’t want Tony’s parents to think that I’m a bum. I do have work to do. It’s just that as a freelancer I don’t LOOK like I’m working all the time. If I come to Sacramento to meet with editors and spend the day at the library working, it creates the effect that I have real work to do. I’m hoping this will offset the eventual parent feeling (because all parents do this, even if they’re as cool as Tony’s parents) of us taking advantage of them because Tony’s girlfriend is a bum and why doesn’t she just get a real job already? Right? Right.

Oh, and I have an interview for a real job next week. It’s only a summer job, but a job nonetheless. Having a more steady income will definitely be a good thing as Tony and I try to get enough money together for an apartment. Oh, a cell phone would be nice too. I’m working my way up, I swear.

OK then, hope you’re all having a happy Friday. I’m going to enjoy my breakfast now.

 

My New Love and a Suing Nanny

I have to admit that for a long time I secretly judged my boyfriend for using Head & Shoulders shampoo. I always associated it with old gray-haired men for some reason. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, just before I left France I was trying to use up all of our shampoos and body gels so I wouldn’t feel guilty throwing them away. I ended up using Tony’s Head & Shoulders one day after he left and it left my hair feeling AMAZING. This is one company who doesn’t lie when they say your hair will feel silky and smooth if you use it. So if any of you have the same weird “old guy” feeling about Head & Shoulders, I recommend getting a FREE sample. I totally went out and bought H&S for Tony and me when I got back here.

As I get older I feel like I sound more and more like the commercials I’m subjected to daily. I wonder why that is? I wonder if adults have always talked like that, or if we talk like that because we learn it from commercials. I think it’s some kind of viscious cycle. I think commercials were originally based off real people, but now we follow cues from commercials…etc.

Anyway, I read in this weekend’s San Francisco Chronicle that a Bay Area nanny is suing her employers for bad treatment and poor pay. She was only getting paid $1,300 a month for 14-hour days six days a week. That’s double what I was getting paid. I guess I could have sued after all. Oh, and this family she worked for, their house is worth $17 million. How do you not have enough money to pay a good salary to the woman taking care of you kid/s? I don’t understand people. If you want someone to be nice to your kids and take good care of them, how about you don’t treat them like dirt? That’d be what I’d do anyway. Here’s the article if you want to read it.

 

Children are the Devil

Sometimes when my boss is in a good mood she’ll pretend like we’re friends and she’ll offer me advice. One of her favorite subjects is my child-free lifestyle.

“If I can offer you one piece of advice, it’s that you should have kids,” she says to me.

“Nah, I’m not really sure kids are for me. There are too many things I want to do,” I try to say politely.

“Yes, but really. You’ll be missing out on something really special if you don’t have kids.”

Yeah, that’s easy to say when you don’t have to take care of your own fucking kids, I think.

I’m sure kids are tons of fun when you only have to see them a few hours a day and someone else is there to deal with all their tantrums. However, that will not be the case for me. If I get knocked up I know for sure who will be taking care of the end result: Me.

Why is there so much pressure to have children? I don’t understand it. Aren’t there already enough screaming brats in this world? Aren’t there enough people out there who STILL don’t seem to know what birth control is? Why do I have to join in? So I can be as miserable as them? No thanks.

My reasons for not wanting kids remain solid:

1. I hate children: I think this is a pretty strong reason in and of itself, but let’s go on.

2. I’m selfish: I hate the thought of having to always think about another person and putting them before me. There are too many things I want. I don’t want to give that up for some ungrateful sniveling brat.

3. I’ve already raised six kids. Being the oldest girl in a family of nine tends to make you never want to have children.

4. I’m always poor: Until I can find a way to fund my own life, I don’t think I should bring another person into the equation.

5. Did I mention I hate children?

And you?

 

I’m sooooo tired

I seriously don’t think I’ve ever felt more tired in my life than I do right now. My boss had said my hours would be cut back (back when we had our talk), but it only lasted about three days. Of course, I knew that would be the case, which is why I turned down her request for me to stay longer. I won’t write much about it now, but trust me, oh trust me, there will be a fury of blogs to come.

I am the crankiest, bitchiest person I think I have ever been in my life right now, and I just have to say that I am so grateful to have such a fab boyfriend. Seriously, if I were him I would have been like, “See ya later,” by now. Every day all I do is come home and start screaming about my boss and my job and I feel bad for him because he has to listen to it even though there’s nothing he can do about it. I’m just so frustrated and I have no one else I can really talk to about it right now. I’ve promised him I won’t complain once we get back to Sacramento. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep my word. Really though, I still can’t believe he was willing to move here with me AND he’s willing to go back early even though I totally screwed everything up by making us move here. I’m seriously hoping we can find another great deal for an apartment when we get back, although I’m pretty sure we’ll never get $250 per person again. That was just unbelievably lucky.

Anywho, I was going to take a picture of how tired I am, but when I turned on the digicam Tony had changed the settings to stretch the picture. It made me laugh hysterically, and so I thought I’d share those with you instead. You’d rather see funny pictures than tired ones anyway, right? Right. So here you go:

P.S. Check it out: The Inside Cover, Day 4

 

Ever wanted to reach over and strangle someone?

A conversation with my boss yesterday:

Her: “You look like you’ve lost some weight.”

Me: “Yeah, I think I lost a bit.”

Her: “Well, you should really try to lose a bit more.”

Me: “…”

52 days and counting.

 

Hating Life

When I was working at my last newspaper job I always had the same first thought in the morning: I hate my life. Every morning I would wake up miserable and I’d turn to my boyfriend and say, “I hate my life.” I never had enough money. I was working all the time, commuting 45 minutes both ways and stressing out all the time. I was making my boyfriend miserable and complaining all the time.

After enough months of it, I finally changed things in my life to make me happier. Most of you already know this part, but I’ll put it in here just to clarify: I quit my job and began freelance. I sold my car. I said yes to an opportunity to move to Paris. And I began waking up in the morning and saying how much I loved life.

The last six months I spent in Sacramento were probably the happiest times I’ve ever had.

But for some reason I left it, thinking I’d be just as happy here in Paris. I thought life would be easy. After all, I was going to be getting free rent, a car and 800 euros a month for only 20 hours a week of work. Essentially it’d be an easy year to figure out what I want to do with my life.

Ladies and gentleman, I hate to inform you that it has been NOTHING like that. First off, my boss has cheated me at every corner. Before I came here she told me she wasn’t even sure she would have enough work for me to do and I’d probably have to find a second job to keep me busy. Not true. I work between 45 and 55 hours a week. AND I’m only getting paid 600 euros a month, rather than the 800 I was promised.

My boss is the biggest stress case ever and she makes me more stressed than I’ve ever been in my life. And her 8-year-old is the devil. And for what? This is a shit job that I don’t need. It’s never going to go on my resume. It’s never going to matter. The only reason I haven’t quit is because nobody else will hire me because my boss never got me my work visa like she promised.

When I first got here I was totally miserable, but now I’ve gotten used to the hours and the brat, and even my boss’s constant demands. And actually things have gotten better since the beginning, mainly because I told my boss I would have never come to France if I had know I’d be working in these conditions. Then I said I was going back to America when my visa expired. After that she was really nice, still demanding, but a lot nicer about it. She also promised to cut back my hours and pay me more. That was two and a half months ago.

I’m still working insane hours and still not getting paid more. I brought this up to her right before Xmas vacation and she said she’d like to just give me a bonus before I leave rather than paying me the extra 200 euros a month. She said we’d talk about it. That’s her way of avoiding it.

Anyway, basically what I’m trying to get at with all of this is that I’m back to waking up every morning saying I hate my life.

I hate my life. And I want to change it. But I feel responsible for these kids. I feel like I made a commitment to be here and I should stay.

But at the same time I feel like I don’t owe this family anything. They’ve done nothing to help me while I’ve been here. They’ve done nothing to make my life easier. And most of all, they’ve done nothing to hold up their end of the bargain.

So why am I laying this all on you now? Well, I kind of just needed to work through this because I’m going to have to talk to my boss tomorrow. I’m coming home in May, instead of July like she wants me to. The main reason for this is that American Airlines won’t let me use my ticket after May because I used frequent flyer miles to buy it. But the other reasons are that I hate it here and I need to get home and get settled before school starts.

I told my boss today about the flight situation and she told me that it’s “mandatory” for me to be here in June because her son has his baccalaureate to take at the end of June and she needs someone to help with the younger son. I know the BAC is a big deal in France, but I think four months notice is plenty of time for her to find someone else. Despite me pointing this out, she continued to say it is “mandatory” and that we agreed on me being here for June. (This is only half true. She told me school ended the first week of June, when really it doesn’t end until the first week of July, meaning I’d be stuck here until July 4.)

We had this discussion just before I left today so I had plenty of time to brood about it on my way home. And what I thought was, “Fuck you, nothing is mandatory for me. I can change my plane ticket any time I want to and I can fly right back to where I came from. I don’t have to do anything for you. I don’t need you. You need me. You’ve done nothing for me. You haven’t lived up to your promises, so why should I? What do I owe you? Nothing. Nothing at all. So why don’t you think about that before you start threatening me with ‘mandatory.’ You can say you’ll stop paying me. You can say whatever you want, but the fact remains that I DO have options. I can change my life if I want to. So just tell me one more time why I should stay here two extra months.”

Am I right?

I think I’m right.

So anyway, I have to say all that to my boss tomorrow and I’m a bit scared. She’s super scary for sure. And Tony doesn’t want to leave Paris. I’m sure I’ll still stay until May because she really has no other option than to keep me around, but it may be hellish if I don’t agree to stay the extra two months.

Ugh. I hate my life.

 

I’m not dead!

Just thought I’d write you all and let you know I’m not dead. The strike here has made life pretty impossible at the moment. Driving the kids to school now takes about 3 hours instead of 30 minutes.

Poor Tony got here on the day the strike began so he hasn’t really seen much of the city. He stares longingly at the Eiffel Tower every night and says, “Baby, when are we going to go to the Eiffel Tower? I want to stand under it when the lights are sparkly.”

And I keep telling him we’ll do it soon, like he’s a five-year-old I have to keep satiated by lying to him. We probably won’t go soon.

First, I hate going to the Eiffel Tower (spoken like a real Parisienne) because there are too many tourists and street hawkers trying to sell me junk.

Second, it’s impossible to get there unless we walk there in the rain.

Third, if we walk there in the rain it won’t be romantic at all because I’ll complain the whole way there. Then as soon as we get there I’ll beg him to let us go home because it’s freezing and my nose is running.

So anyway, I hope the strike is over soon.

You can read more about it at www.thenervousbreakdown.com if you want. And I know you want.

Mwah!

 

When did other writers become so condescending?

Despite having an active literary scene in Paris, I think the other writers here are the one thing that have disappointed me most in this new city.

At home I was part of a freelance writing group. We held monthly workshops, focusing on how to find work, get published, write query letters, discover new sources, manage our time, etc.

Although I was new to freelancing, the group was quick to help me find work and meet editors. They used their connections to introduce me to several magazines in the region and start getting published from day one.

Had it not been for that group I would have been working as a bartender or waitress somewhere. Instead I was making money as a writer and enjoying it for the first time in years.

When I arrived in Paris I hoped to find the same kind of camaraderie among writers. I hoped to find a group that would help me find work here as well.

Instead, what I found were writers who are much more abstract about working as writers.

They’re the writers everyone assumes I am when I say I do freelance for a living.

They go to writing groups to talk about themselves and all their grand plans. Not to find out how to improve their writing or make it worth reading.

They’re all working on a novel, a collection of essays, a book of poems.

They’re writers.

And they all look down their noses at me.

“What are you working on?” Is the resounding question I get when I go to these writing groups.

Well, I just had an article published about the biotechnology industry. Now I’m looking for some opportunities to do some travel writing.

“Oh. But what are you working on?”

Right.

Apparently I’m not REALLY a writer.

Because my work will actually be seen by other human beings.

Because I’m actually getting paid for what I write.

Because I’m not adding another novel to the pile of chick lit in bookstores.

Because I don’t have an 80,000 word diatribe about the state of the world today and how it’s all America’s fault.

The writing community may be very active here, but unless you can look at all other writers as insignificant insects whose souls should be crushed, don’t even bother.

You have to be willing to sit above everyone and talk about how uncultured they are because they still think Paris is amazing. Because they aren’t jaded and bitter that their novel still hasn’t been published. Because they actually enjoy life.

Otherwise, you may as well just go home.