You’ve got mail! (Or at least you will soon)

Well, dear reader, I finally did it.

Totally worth the $6

Yes, I finally managed to get my ass to a post office and pick up stamps for my postcard project.

Postcards! For you! (maybe)

Do you know what that means?

This is what mail boxes look like in Canada. See? We're learning!

If you sent me an e-mail asking for a postcard I can now officially assure you that it is IN THE MAIL.

No joke. See that? In. The. MAIL.

ISN’T THAT EXCITING??

Well I think it is. I had a lot of fun picking out and writing each of these cards and I hope that each person who receives one enjoys it too. In fact, I enjoyed sending snail mail SO MUCH that I’ve decided that I’m going to do an open call for the Postcard Project every month. Because, let’s face it, I like being the bearer of good tidings almost as much as I enjoy making people miserable! I’m like Ebenezer Scrooge on that fateful Christmas morning! Merry Christmas, Tiny Tim! HAVE A POSTCARD. (Fun fact: While writing this post I got distracted and wound up checking out what you’ve all been up to lately and LO AND BEHOLD, Bea of The Engagement Project ALSO made a Scrooge reference in a recent post. Woah.)

If postcard participants can do me but one favour (to add some substance to the fact that I’ve just upgraded this from “just randomly sending postcards to blogger friends” to “legitimate Project” status): When you receive your postcard, take a pic of it (you can pose with it, prop it against your cat, stick it in a cake. I don’t really care. Bogus points for creativity!) and then send it back to me. I’ll do a recap of each mailing and link the card back to you’re blog/Twitter account (Don’t worry, I won’t write where you’re from/real name/any personal shiz. Nothing that the internet doesn’t already know, I promise). You don’t have to, I just think it might be neat 🙂

Feel free to drop me a line at any time at yesthisisjam [at] gmail [dot] com if you want to get in on this postcard business.

Extra incentive? Humphrey and the Beaver are still up for grabs.

Ha ha, Humphrey and the Beaver…

Editor’s note: For your peace of mind, no stalking was involved in the Postcard Project, nor will it ever be. Unless you happen to be Megan, but only on good hair days.

Ivory soap makes everything better (and also funnier)

After writing my rather emo post yesterday, I decided that it was time to get out of the house for a while. I took Dexter for a nice long walk, rode my bike, breathed in some crisp country air and came back in feeling refreshed. And also dirty. Gotta love that country livin’.

I wandered my way upstairs to the bathroom to clean up and, wouldn’t you know it, we needed a new bar of soap. So I reached for a new slab of Ivory and this is what I saw:

It was as if that little bar of suds had read my mopey post about life and happiness and was saying, “I feel you, sista. I FEEL YOU. But you know what? YOU’RE GOING TO BE OK.”

And I was INSPIRED, people! The soap was right! Everything IS going to be ok! Life is too short to spend it being a weiner! Grateful, I tore off the wrapper and made sweet, sweet bubbles with that soap right then and there.

Which is to say I washed my hands. Don’t be gross.

This epiphany of squeaky clean proportions made me realize that maybe all I needed was a little pick-me-up to get me back in the game. I needed to laugh like it was my JOB (seriously, wouldn’t that be wicked?). And so, I turned to the one true source of endless hilarity in my life: the Internet.

Because I love ya’ll so much and because you put up with my whining and also because I love to spread the good cheer far and wide (and perhaps also because I’m running obnoxiously high on endorphins and therefore am hovering dangerously somewhere between peace-loving-hippie and sugar-addicted-freakshow), I decided that I would share with you all my favourite online destinations for hilarious good times:

1) Wizard People, Dear Reader

WPDR was released as a sort of alternative narrative (or “book on tape” as it is referred to in the recording) of the first Harry Potter movie. According to Wikipedia, the recording surfaced back in 2004 and was written and performed by the ridiculously hilarious Brad Neely. It was intended to be played in tandem with “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” (Philospher’s Stone for the rest of us) on mute but is just as capable of making one wet themselves when listened to on its own (if you are unable to sync up the two or just don’t care to try but still are morbidly curious enough to see the outcome, YouTube always has a few clips kicking around).

WPDR remains, to this day, the funniest thing I have ever experienced. I stumbled across it once in my 3rd year of university and I can swear to you with great sincerity that my life has not been then same since. This recording is the only thing in the world that can make me literally ROFL, even after the obscene about of times I’ve listened to it. If you check out absolutely nothing else on this list, let Wizard People, Dear Reader be it (Also, if it doesn’t make you laugh then we clearly can’t ever be friends).

2) Alex Reads Twilight

I make no secret of my boundless loathing for Stephanie Meyers’ runaway vampire-werewolf-“romance” hybrid series of DOOM. I quite honestly detest everything about it (but don’t worry, I made sure to force myself through ALL FOUR OF THOSE WRETCHED TOMES before coming to that conclusion. My opinion is an informed one). There have been many occasions where I have sat down and attempted to write out my reasons and feelings but each time my attempt at being diplomatic and well-spoken turns into a rant the likes of which no one has ever seen complete with COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF CAPSLOCK and I need to stop myself lest I risk inciting the wrath of many a crazed fangirl.

Maybe one day I’ll find a way to tell everyone how I really feel, but until then, I’ve got Alex Day to do it for me:

Love Twilight or hate it, you owe it to yourself to watch the whole thing (at the time this post is being written I believe he’s only gotten to chapter 14 but be patient, it’s worth the wait). This guy points out nearly EVERYTHING about this book that drives me so batshit insane (and I swear it’s not just generic hate. Watch the videos and you’ll understand. Hopefully.) and yet manages to do so in a way that is just so damn entertaining that you can’t help but laugh.

Did I mention he’s British?

Once you finish with his bastardization of Twilight, be sure to check out his other videos.

(Note: I believe his friend Charlie may have actually have tried his hand for Chapter 15, so make sure you don’t miss that video. And check out his vids too. Love them both.)

3) Fuck Yeah! Slightly Amusing

FY!SA is a Tumblog curating the best (and sometimes less than best) of all things funny on the interwebz. Usually meme-based and often offensive, this site remains very true to its moniker -it’s not always hilarious, but there’s a lot about it that is. Unless you’re an absolute prude or not one for the randomness that is internet humour, you’re bound to giggle at this one at least a few dozen times.

4) Hark! A Vagrant

I’m fairly certain that I fell for Kate Beaton’s quirky artistic style and refreshing and unabashedly Canadian sense of humour back in my Livejournal days (which is to say, quite some time ago). Her comics focus mainly on history and literature and making learning fun! Or something to that effect (or is it affect? Help!). She all at once witty and charming, clever and crude. Not everyone is going to get it. If you’re among those that do, congratulations. Your gold star is in the mail.

5) Comics Curmudgeon

Speaking of comics! There’s a lot to be said about a man who choses to spend a portion of each day ripping apart the funnies page in the daily newspaper and sharing his reviews with the world on his blog (not all of these things are necessarily good, but I happen to be a fan). A writer by profession, Josh Fruhlinger’s (Seriously. How do you even pronounce that?) commentary is as smart as it is cynical. You’ll never look at The Family Circus the same way again. Trust me, he’s doing us all a big favour.

(If this one sounds familiar, it’s because I used one of his reviews to better illustrate my romantically challenged BFF’s delusional mindset in this post here).

6) Regretsy

I am so glad that this blog exists.

Etsy is, in life, a pretty wonderful website. I love being able to cruise through the works of thousands of artists and vintage sellers from the comforts of my own home. There are a lot of really beautiful and unique pieces to be found there, it’s hard to choose sometimes.

Other times, not so much.

Thats where Regretsy comes in. Taking the bullshit that plagues Etsy to task, author April Winchell does not fuck around. Her commentary and creative comebacks are just as hilarious as her finds are cringe-inducing. For every time you’ve found yourself wondering “Where do some of these Etsy people come up with this shit??”, there’s Regretsy.

(For all of my fellow anti-Meyers out there, be sure to give the Regretsy Twilight category a gander. I’ll make you smile on the outside and destroy you on the inside.)

Okay, I think I’ve rambled on long enough. Hopefully I’ve given y’all a few things to procrastinate over if nothing else. Now it’s your turn! If you have a favourite online destination for the lulz, leave a link and description in the comments!

Unless it’s 4Chan. Because, seriously, enough already.

Brain soup for the soul

I’ve been quiet lately. I don’t mean to be. I don’t like it either.

But things have been happening, all of it out of my control. Some of it has to do with me, some of it doesn’t but because it’s what I seem to do best, you’d better believe I’ve been stressing out over the fact that there’s nothing I can do will make any of it better.

There are a lot of FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS wrapped up in all of this (like the fact that I’m having to replace my car after my brother rammed into it last week and having the worst frigging time doing it. Guess who can’t afford this shit right now? THIS girl). There are also some big things and some very sad things, like the news that came this morning that a family member died last night. It wasn’t entirely unexpected but at the same time we had all been so damn hopeful.

I’ve been doing a lot of listening to others lately and as disheartened as I’ve become by what I’ve been hearing, I’m doing my best to let it all provide perspective. It’s not just me that’s going through hard times, everyone is. And to be honest, it’s starting to feel like we’ve all been going through hard times for a long time now. So I find myself sitting back and staring into nothing for longer than I’m comfortable admitting and wondering if this is it and if I’ve been deluding myself into thinking that there’s some pinnacle of happiness that we’re supposed to be working towards when really this is all we can really hope for.

Of course, now that I’m writing it out like this I’m realizing that I never did believe in that magical state of perfect bliss so I’m not sure where that idea is coming from now. Life’s just a (hopefully) long, meandering joy ride down an old country road that is both pretty and wonderful but also bumpy and fraught with rough patches. You can get frustrated and drive like an idiot or you can be patient and not let the pot holes keep you from enjoying the view.

Or you can just compare life to an old school Super Mario game. Adventuring and good times but constantly having to stop and stomp on those effing Goombas along the way and the princess is ALWAYS in another goddamn castle (Field log: We need more mushrooms).

I have no idea what happened with those last few paragraphs.

Anyway, I’ve been throwing myself into my freelance projects to avoid dwelling on any one thing in particular and I’ve managed to be pretty productive which helps. I’ve actively been trying to say ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and just telling people how much I appreciate them more often and that helps too. I’ve also decided to stop running from things as much and to try and recognize just how beautiful everything is when I stop angsting over ever stupid hang-up. All of this has been helping little by little.

This posts sounds so melodramatic and I believe me when I say that’s not what I was going for. Really I’m just tired and running low on words right now (I know this post seems to beg to differ but seriously, how much of what I’ve written actually makes sense? Exactly). I’m working myself up to something cool though, I promise you that. I just need to re-group a little first.

Until then, I like this song. It makes me feel better too.

Thanks to each and every one of you who reads my blog and for your comments and your friendship. I’ve found such camaraderie since starting Almost, Maybe and I probably won’t ever be able to articulate just how much of a difference your love and support has meant to me. With great sincerity – Thank you.

This bitch is back in business (miss me?)

I’ve been “out of the office” so to speak since last Friday and, let me tell you, it feels like a hell of a lot longer. Because so much has happened, I’ve decided to jump back into things by providing y’all with a little “The Past 5 Days in Review” post.

You’re thrilled; I can smell it from here.

1) Because I know you’re all dying to know what went down this past weekend when I went to visit my Romantically Challenged BFF, I will not keep you in suspense any longer: It wasn’t all that bad.

Sure, she abandoned me within an hour of walking through her door (after I drove four hours to see her, no less) to go have a heart-to-heart with her 21-year old ex of two days. And, yes, I did have to spend two and a half hours alone watching MTV by myself (Editor’s note: In life, I make a point of never watching MTV. This experience made me feel old and caused me undue stress as it gave me even more reason to fear for the future of humanity). But when another dear friend texted me for drinks and I called her to say “ENOUGH” she, believe it or not, totally obliged.

Yes, dear reader, she actually ENDED the conversation with her ex and CAME HOME so that she could actually SPEND TIME with me. I know this sounds like it should be a given but seriously, this was some major progress for her. AND THEN IT GOT BETTER because when she got back she APOLOGIZED for ditching me and said,

“I’ve been such a moron about all of this. Talking to him tonight made me realize just how not right for me he really it. I’m so sorry.”

And I was all, “Shit, have you been reading my blog?”

And she was like, “What blog?”

And I was all like, “NOTHING.”

Just kidding, no one’s allowed to know about this monstrosity. I to think I was actually THIS close to finally buying a wig this weekend but I wasn’t sure how to explain that one away to her. The last thing I need is for her to randomly stumble across this blog, complete with photos featuring the wig-that-could-have-been, and thinking to herself, “Something about this chick’s sloppy disguise seems awfully familiar…” (Because the detailed descriptions of her romantic tribulations couldn’t possibly give it away. HA HA OH GOD. If you’re reading this, BFF, you know that I love you).

But she did, in fact, drop the guy like a bad habit and we spent the rest of the weekend partying and having a drama-free time and it was awesome.

Seriously.

2) Romantically Challenged BFF may not have been reading my blog, but judging by a recent post by the Comics Curmudgeon himself, Mr. Josh Fruhlinger, has been.

Check out his genius review of a recent instalment of Mary Worth:

You might have to click to get the full impact of how truly amazing it is.

Is he right or IS HE RIGHT?

3) Speaking of previous posts and the interwebz proving points that I made in them: Remember the guy that incited the rage behind this post? Y’know, Mr. I’m-taking-an-indefinite-hiatus-from-Facebook-and-dramatically-announcing-it-to-my-totally-indifferent-friends?

Yeah, well that was Wednesday. He was back by Saturday.

Point = made.

4) When I said that I was going to pick up some postcards while I was away, clearly what I meant to say was that I was going to pick up just one. But that’s okay, because I made sure this one was EXTRA special:

It's a BEAVER, y'all!

First one to claim dibs on this rare beauty gets it.

And on that note, I know that I also said that I would be sending a bunch of cards out to you, my dear readers, on Monday. I haven’t unfortunately, and the reason for that brings us to my next point:

5) Middle Brother backed into my car.

I had maybe been home for three hours on Sunday night and just as I was crawling into bed I heard my mom shrieking at me from the bottom of the stairs. I had parked behind Middle Brother’s car, like I’ve done many times before, but he didn’t know I had come home. He works a night shift so it was already pitch black outside and, running a bit late as he was, he rushed out, jumped into his car and gunned it into reverse – right into the front of mine.

It was a pretty bad scene.

Needless to say, my mobility (and thus my ability to get to a post office) has been pretty limited this week. I think my car is going to pull through but you had better believe that this ordeal has caused all kinds of drama (ironically, not with Middle Brother in the slightest), most of which can be blamed for the fact that I’m only getting back to blogging now. On the plus side, my inability to go places has helped me to save a ridiculous amount of money that I would otherwise be wasting on junk I don’t need. And it’s only been 3 days. Good times.

I guess that’s it for now. As always, if you want to get in on this postcard business, it’s never too late to drop me a line at yesthisisjam [at] gmail [dot] com. Other than that, posts of more substance are coming soon.

P.S. Check out my wicked awesome BlissDom Canada blog badge in the side bar! How wicked is that? Oh, I’ll tell you – It’s MAPLETASTICS, bitches!

Friday Quickie – Lefty Loosey

The other day I was sitting on Boyfriend’s lap, attempting to play Brick Braker on his Blackberry with my left hand. Because I’m right handed, this proved to be somewhat difficult.

Him: Geeze, you’re REALLY bad at this game.

Me: No I’m not! I’m just not good with my left hand!

Him: Well, I KNOW that’s not true. You’re just bad at the game.

Compliments – I take what I can get.

I’m off to some big city for the weekend to visit friends. This includes my romantically-challenged and wholly irrational Best Friend (whom I also happend to be staying with). Pray for me, will you? Or don’t. Either way, there’s a good chance that this trip could end up being a short one.

As always, I can’t seem to stay off of Twitter so if by some chance you find yourself desperately needing your fix of Jam, you now know where to find me.

Also, as I tend to do while traveling, I plan on picking up some postcards while I’m away. I’ll be sending out my first batch on Monday so there is still (and, let’s face it, ALWAYS) time to get in on some snail mail! Check the deets here

That’s it! Have a good weekend, my lovelies!

“He’s Just Not That Into You”: A case study

Ok guys, I really need some help here.

If you follow me on Twitter then you’ve no doubt caught a tweet or two about my Best Friend and how she had started dating someone 6 years her junior and how concerned I was about this.

To provide some background – Best Friend makes poor choices when it comes to men and dating. All the time. As in, she hasn’t had one relationship/fling that has gone well. And if it’s not the guy’s fault (which, granted, she’s dated some real douchebags) then it’s a matter of her exacerbating things with some truly unfortunate low self esteem issues/crazy clingy ex behaviour/general disillusionment.

She’s a great person and I love her and it hurts to see her go through this shit again and again and goodness knows that this past year in particular has been particularly unkind to her romantically. That having been said, we, her long-time friends, are beginning to grow weary of what is starting to feel like an exceptionally bad episode of The Hills on repeat. A couple of our friends have gotten to a point where they don’t even deal with her unless the absolutely have to because they’re so sick of it. I mean, you’d think after three or four times of getting burned the same way you’d learn a thing or two, right?

Except that she doesn’t.

As for me, I pretty much have a script on hand for every time she gets involved with a guy we know isn’t right for her. She’ll tell me about him (“He’s super sweet, totally different from the other guys!”) and then ask for my advice as to what she should do. I give her my honest opinion; she agrees and then does the exact opposite. Fast-forward (not too fast though, because it doesn’t take that long to get to this point) to the turbulence. Again, she asks for advice, I give and she ignores. Repeat until the two of them eventually hate each other’s guts and, after an extended period of grieving, she moves on to someone new. Meanwhile, by this point I’ve usually gotten fed up and said something a little too honest and get in trouble.

Every. Damn. Time.

I almost want to say, “Oh! You mean you didn’t actually want to make a decision that would have a positive impact on the outcome of this situation? Well shoot! Why didn’t you just SAY SO.”

So, yeah. Junior broke up with her after a month and three days of “dating”. He cited reasons such as: being too young (duh), not being ready to settle down (double duh), not ready for anything serious, wanting to party all the time, wanting to spend more time with his friends, etc. Honestly? The only hint of bullshit I picked up in all of his reasoning was when he mentioned something about his ex and how he treated her badly and still feels guilty about it blah, blah, blah. Because, really, it doesn’t matter if there’s any truth to it – In my opinion, if someone you’ve only known for about a month starts using an ex as an excuse (for anything), you should be concerned.

Other than that, I think he did them both a big favour.

She seemed to be taking it well. She was disappointed, which was to be expected, but she wasn’t pulling the irrational card. That is, until today when she said that she has decided that what they had was too good and that he had been led astray by his friends and that she was going to fight for his love. She’s going to talk to him again and try to work things out.

And then I slammed my face off my desk a few times because it was better then the prospect of going through this YET AGAIN.

I’m supposed to be going to visit her this weekend (she lives many a mile away) so I scaled back all of the things I wanted to say and basically settled for, “If it feels right then do it but don’t take it personally if he doesn’t change his mind and just LET IT GO”

This is going to be the worst weekend ever.

So I need some advice from you, dear reader. Anything – what should I say to her when I’m there? How should I be dealing with this, y’know, in life? Am I overreacting?

Because I want to be a good friend and I don’t want to be down on love and always be the bitchy one who is trashing her love stories but, seriously?

She might be desperate but at this point, so am I.

Signed,
Trying-To-Be-A-Good-Friend-But-Failing Jam

I am so sick of you being so sick of this shit

You know what drives me absolutely batshit insane? Logging on to Facebook and seeing shit like this in my news feed:

Oh frig, you too?

Now, before I go on, let it be know that this person is indeed a good one and really, this example is hardly a good one to be using because I’ve seen much worse. But it’s what started what will be the following rant, so.

Status updates like this? Yeah, BATSHIT INSANE.

I can’t count how many times I’ve seen this – dramatic announcements about how someone has decided that they have “had enough of this Facebook shit” and they’re leaving, godammit! Leaving, possibly, FOREVER!

Sometimes they draw it out to achieve maximum douchbagginess. Sometimes they make what they think are vague references to what everyone else knows to be people with whom they’ve had “drama”. Sometimes they’re just so freaking sick of being “used” by the money-grubbing machine that is Zuckerberg and Co. Sometimes they’re angry, sometimes they’re woe-begotten, but one thing is for certain – no one really seems to care.

Oh, sure, maybe a few people express a degree of dismay that their friend/family member/acquaintance/random they met at a bar one time could actually and truly be considering abandoning the mighty BOOK OF FACE.

“Oh noes! Why?? Don’t leave!” a friend/family member/acquaintance/random they met at a bar one time might plead. And by plead I mean type absentmindedly as per the unwritten Laws of Facebook Etiquette before switching over to the next tab to find out if TMZ has any new dirt on Miz Lohan or Mel Gibson or whomever else could actually teach our whiner friend a thing or two about Drama with a capital D.

“I’m just so sick of all this DRAMA!!1!” the whiner will proclaim, all self-righteous and such.

Yes, fuck that “drama” indeed. And, yes, please do make a scene about your displeasure because it’s important that everyone knows just how over it you really are. Because, I mean, you’re going to LEAVE FACEBOOK, right? This must be serious business.

Except that, at least on my feed, most of the people that “left the building” in this diva-esque fashion? Back within a month. Maybe they just needed to teach us all a lesson? Well it’s a good thing you made such a BIG DAMN DEAL of your departure because, shit son, I honestly wouldn’t have know you were gone otherwise.

It doesn’t always go down this way. Sometimes people are really good about their decision to break up with Facebook (and how they choose to come out about it). Sometimes people have really good reasons for doing it. I’ve had a few friends message me to let me know that they’re closing down their account because they don’t use it anymore/are concerned for their privacy/don’t like what Facebook has become/their lawyer told them to and so on and I’m like, that’s cool, thanks for the heads up.

Then of course there are people like this one guy I kind of remembered from high school who only ever seemed to use his account to bitch about his “friends” and how “fake” they all were and how sick of their “drama” he was (said “friends”, apparently used to his antics enough to have not already turfed his ass but still hurt nonetheless, would leave comments along the lines of “Err, thanks?” or “CALM THE SHIT DOWN, ASSHAT”). He threatened to jump ship again and again and again and, judging by the comments left on those martyr messages, his friends pretty much wished he would.

“Sounds like a plan, buddy!” and “Oh, would you? Please?”

I so wish I was making this shit up. But hopefully people like that are few and far between (please say yes. For the love of all that is good in humanity, say yes).

But that’s just it – yeah, you can use Facebook for pretty much any purpose your melodramatic little heart desires, but when it comes to using it as a space to launch your personal me-against-the-rest tirade, don’t be surprised when nobody seems to care.

Most of them are just there for Farmville anyway.

Oh, and the icing on the proverbial cake that is this rant?

The first comment in response to today’s Facebook cliff-hanger was thus:

Yep.

(The second was “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out”)

(The rest didn’t get much better)

Wherein I attempt to get my shit together

Have I ever told you about my soul-crushing guilt complex? Because I have one of those and, let me tell you, it’s a major kill-joy.

Back in May I applied for a job. It was a great position at a great place. Bonus points? It was in my field AND it was referred to me by a big-deal contact on the “inside”. I was super qualified for the position and I had an in? I was ecstatic.

I slaved over my application, sent it and waited.

I never heard anything back. I was crushed.

At first I languished over it – how could I be SO qualified AND have an excellent inside reference and STILL not even get so much as a phone call? I couldn’t figure out how I kept going wrong with this whole “establishing a career” thing and I felt pretty hopeless. Eventually I got over it and even started to settle into my current state of affairs in such a way that was way more positive than it had been. I made a plan – I’d give myself until November (which would make a year at my current job) or until March (until the end of my current contract), then I would start looking again.

And then last week, as if the Powers That Be were purposely holding out to make sure I wasn’t a cosmic pussy, I got the call.

It was a woman from the HR department at the place I had applied to back in May. I had been shortlisted for the position and they wanted to interview me on Monday. Which is to say, what is now today.

This is about when the world around me slowed and went fuzzy and my heart skipped a few dozen beats before I realized that this was actually happening. My first reaction after gaining feeling back in my limbs was to quake with excitement – Yes! The want to interview me! It’s finally happening!

Everything was coming up Jam.

And then, like I always do, I started to get all wishy-washy.

I looked around my cubicle and I started to panic. I haven’t finished my contract yet. That’s bad, right? And what am I supposed to tell my boss? A man who has looked after me and made sure that I am always taken care of. What about my awesome co-workers? (don’t get me wrong, they aren’t ALL awesome) And what about the job itself? Sure, it’s not even remotely in my field and doesn’t pay enough for me to pay off the education I’m not really using AND be self-sustaining at the same time. But it IS a steady job that has been very good to me during an exceptionally turbulent time of my life and I’m just going to BAIL ON IT?

Guys, I was being ravaged by guilt over the very prospect of leaving my job (an easy pay-cheque) for a career. It was DESTROYING ME AS A PERSON.

“Are you fucking kidding me??” my Work Bestie snapped at me when I whispered her my news. She too is working on moving on to greener pastures. Her workplace loyalty is an all-time low, “It’s a job in your field at a cool place that could end up paying you anywhere from $12 to $20 grand MORE than what you’re making now and you’re feeling EMOTIONAL about leaving this place?”

“Yeah, but – ”

“I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.”

She’s a really positive motivating force in my life.

I called my mom and, I shit you not, I thought she was going to cry,

“This is amazing!” she all but sobbed, “This is everything you’ve been working for. Do you have any idea how much this is going to change your life?”

I felt like I was trying to keep a dirty little secret, “Shh, ma’! It’s just an interview! I haven’t gotten it yet, DON’T JINX ME!”

But I was thinking the same thing. I tried shoving all of that to the back of my mind – I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I wanted to be calm and level-headed about it. But the GUILT. The totally irrational, borderline-debilitating GUILT! It was starting to taint my opinion of the job entirely.

Not good.

I knew I wanted that job. I was genuinely excited about it. I even knew that my boss, although he would be disappointed, would also understand. He himself has said that he doesn’t except me to be here long, that this job is just a stepping stone and that people like me “don’t stay in places like this for long”. And that was ok. Hell, he even arranged for me to have career-planning sessions. I think he’ll be ok.

But still.

This is a problem. I attach so much emotion to things and places and moments in time that I come to have a hard time letting go. Uhg, I have SUCH a hard time letting go. I’m always afraid of disappointing people (who would never actually be disappointed, but my brain is too warped to realize it) or of losing those things that give me comfort (even when they’re not good for me or have already served it’s purpose).

You should see the boxes of stuff taking up space in my room and every available storage space in our house because I just don’t have the heart to get rid of it.

I cried the day we had to haul my first car off to the wreckers because even though it hadn’t run in over a year.

I often slip into fits of depressed nostalgia when a song on the radio reminds me of people or places or events from my past, even if those memories aren’t happy ones.

There’s probably something wrong with me. I have no idea.

I have passed up or settled too many time because I was afraid of letting go.

And after a few hours of fretting, I realized that, this time?

This time was not going to be one of them.

So I bought a pretty new dress and broke in some sassy kitten heels. I spent hours updating my portfolio until it was pretty much a fucking piece of art. I let myself do some what-if budgetary calculations (just a little though. It was sort of like stealing a smidge of frosting from a birthday cake before it’s been served – enough to get you excited about what’s coming but not so much as to spoil it). I studied and rehearsed and Boyfriend made my lunch for me so I could go to bed early.

I showed up half and hour early because I was too nervous to keep sitting at my desk. While I waited, the candidate that was interviewed before me finished and breezed past me with this smile plastered across her face like she was so damn proud of herself. And she probably deserved to be proud of herself but I was too busy judging the way she looked and the way she walked and the way she UHHG to care about that.

But it was her smile that I found to be so unnerving. She looked so confident. Unshakably confident. I smiled back and then looked down at the portfolio I was clutching in my hands. Why shouldn’t I feel that confident? I had no reason to feel anything BUT that confident. My portfolio was stellar, I was ridiculously qualified and, as Jaimie so eloquently put it, I am a consummate badass!

I decided to focus on something funny to help shake the nerves and settled on my favourite funny memory: I was at a conference with a colleague once and, in the middle of the presentation we were listening to he dropped his pen. Not wanting to draw attention to himself (or something?) he lunged down for it quickly. He also forgot to push his chair out when he did so and wound up cracking his forhead off the table so hard that his upper body bounced back up as fast as it went down. The only evidence that anything had happened was the suspicious swaying of his enormous Italian ‘fro (Think of that kid from High School Musical. You know, the one with the hair? SHUT UP YOU TOTALLY KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT) and a look on his face that screamed “WTF JUST HAPPENED”. Amazingly, I was the only one who witnessed it. We almost pissed ourselves laughing and how we didn’t get our asses hauled out of that presentation eludes me to this day.

But anyway, laughing helped. It continued to help as I revisited that memory several times over a period of 20 minutes that the panel kept me waiting before they finally invited me into the room. It’s helping even now. Oh god, SO FUNNY.

As for the interview, I truly believe that it went well, I don’t know that it was the most amazing interview I’ve ever given, but I was confident and gave what I feel were great responses. I felt comfortable and I knew what I was talking about. They liked my portfolio.

So now, I wait.

They said I should be hearing from them by the end of the week. That means four days of distracting myself and pretending it’s no big deal while secretly maintaining a vision of nothing but an absolutely positive outcome. And repeating my new personal mantra of “I WILL get this job, I am a consummate badass” several hundred time a day.

And maybe looking into finding someone to talk to about this all-consuming guilt thing.

One way or another, it’s a step in the right direction.

“There is no passion to be found in playing small – In settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living”
– Nelson Mandela

Close encounters of the OMGWTF kind

When I’m home, I tend to do all of my work sitting cross-legged on my bed, computer in lap and sheets bunched by the foot board. You see, I don’t have a desk and working anywhere else in my house leaves me open as a target for family members who can’t/refuse to accept that someone like me could have, say, deadlines.

So yes, I work on my bed. Like a teenager doing her homework. Or something. Whatever.

Yesterday, as I sat in position typing away furiously, I happened to catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked down and there, picking its way across my mattress, was a bug. A tiny bug, but a big nonetheless.

And that’s fine. Bugs, they happen.

I took a closer look and THIS, dear reader, is what I saw:

Guys, I lost my fucking mind.

WHAT THE SHIT IS THAT?

I had never seen bedbugs before so I had no idea if perhaps that was the stranger crawling his way toward me. I hadn’t had any reason to assume that this would have been an issue before that moment of course but it was a bug and it was IN my BED.

And then I noticed the pincers and I thought Jebus, it looks like an itty bitty crab…

HOLY FUCK AN ITTY BITTY CRAB.

CRABS??

Again, I had no idea what body crabs looked like and even though I KNEW without a doubt that this also wasn’t an issue (I’ve heard that you, y’know, tend to NOTICE that sort of thing). Also, why was it touring my mattress? Wouldn’t it have had more important places to be?

But forget rationality. It didn’t matter, there was a crazy-ass bug with goddamn pincers in my bed and I was FREAKING OUT.

All I was thinking was fuck my life, I just spent four nights in a hotel. Didn’t I read Somewhere that you can get bugs at hotels? IT’S AN INFESTATION OH GOD

It wasn’t an infestation. It was one bug. But again, all rationality was out the window.

I calmed myself enough to lure the wanderer onto a scrap of paper (not without difficulties mind you. Turns out he was a feisty little bastard, as made evident by the fact that he chose to SPAR WITH THE PAPER. Seriously, picture it – teeny little pincers versus colossal scrap of paper. He wasn’t going down without a fight).

I flew downstairs and called frantically for my family. Both Mom and Middle Brother instantly ruled out bedbugs and body crabs.

“That is not what bedbugs look like,” said Mom all matter-of-factly. She IS a mom after all, so I felt inclined to believe her.

“And it’s definitely not a body crab,” of this Middle Brother seemed awfully certain.

There were awkward glances exchanged in silence, followed by,

“NO, I’M NOT SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE.”

He thought it looked more like a scorpion anyway.

For that I punched him.

So we turned to friend Google where they first pulled up pictures of the aforementioned creepy crawlers to put my mind at ease:

A bedbug. The heebie jeebies: I has them

A crab louse. Picture me, projectile vomiting while conducting THIS image search. UHG.

Yes, thanks for that. Are you feeling itchy too? It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me where. You’re welcome though.

So what was it?

It only took Middle Brother a few moments to figure it out.

“Chelonethida,” he announced triumphantly as we huddled around the monitor where he had pulled up the Wikipedia article.

“Look, see!” said Mom. “They’re harmless! It even says they’re beneficial to humans because they eat other, grosser bugs! Do you feel better now?”

Yes, it was certainly reassuring to know that a) I didn’t have an infestation in my bed and, b) that I wasn’t going to die in my sleep, but it was hard to feel relieved with the word PSUDOSCORPION STARING YOU IN THE FACE.

“I knew it was a scorpion,” Middle Brother was feeling pretty proud of himself.

“Wannabe scorpion!” I shrieked as I ran back upstairs to gather my bedding. “Fake-out-scorpion, not-quite-there-scorpion, POSER!”

And into the wash it all went. I may not be in Texas getting attacked by real scorpions like some other bloggers we all know, but that doesn’t mean I’m down with poser scorpion slumber parties either. After all, I have standards

Have postcards, will post them

When I was down in DC, I stumbled across the hotel stationary while hunting for the Do Not Disturb sign for the door (I’m one of those people who hates the idea of people coming into my room while I’m not there. Or even while I AM there. Either scenario, do not want. I’m never there long enough to need fresh towels anyway so housekeeping can just SIT DOWN).

I HAD to make use of the four sheets and two envelopes so I put out a call for volunteers on Twitter. Tara of Bite the Bedbugs and Jaimie of Grumbles and Grunts volunteered and at least one of their letters were written under the influence of some mighty fine margaritas courtesy of Chili’s. I think it was Jaimie. Sorry about that! Unless it made sense/was funny in which case you’re welcome!

Anyway, I love writing letters and sending post cards (even though I discovered the hard way that the physical act of writing them leads to hand cramps. Dammed keyboard! Look what you’ve done!).

And so, dear reader, I would like to get into the habit of sending out more (1) in order to get back into the habit of writing by hand and, 2) because old school mail is bitchin`).

Who doesn’t like getting postcards? Amirite?

So, if you wanna be pen pals/receive one of these loverly postcards in your mail box, send me an e-mail at yesthisisjam (at) gmail [dot] com with a mailing address and I’ll sen YOU a (hopefully) witty/charming/potentially drunken handwritten message on a postcard with Humphrey Bogart’s dashing visage on it* in return!

Because I mean, really, what else am I going to do with a bunch of postcards taped to the back of my closet door?

What?

IT’S ART.

(I also solemnly swear to not stalk you or sell your info to creepy people. Canadians have especially potent guilty consciences. The more you know!)

*Not true. There’s only one postcard with Humphrey Bogart’s dashing visage on it. So only one of you is getting one. Sorry about that.