How a year can change everything...
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice
Remember that guy I had the crush on way back when? Of course you do. It was just a couple of entries back. I meant to write, really, I did. Shit happens. Anywho...we're together now. That happened in June. LOTS has happened this year, but I won't go into all of it, just that I started school again, changed my major, had several personal breakthroughs and a near breakdown, and learned that next spring, I'm gaining three nieces and/or nephews. Two of my sisters and a sister-in-law are expecting within three months of each other. Times like these, I get a little bummed about being so far from my family. I'm going home for Thanksgiving, but I'll spend Christmas with my boyfriend's family, and I'm not planning to go home again until next July, a full month after the last of the babies is born. What a crazy week that'll be.

I could be good at this...but what about my dream?
I sold one and a half cars today. That brings me to a grand total of two and a half. If I can sell another two and a half by Wednesday, I'm on track for selling 15 this month, which is an automatic $5000. I'd LOVE to do that. It's unlikely, of course, but the fact I've got the potential to hit 10 is really exciting. I'm getting more confident, and I think I'll be able to handle the next few sales on my own.

As much as I love the almighty dollar, my heart's not in it. I'm still thinking about going back to school and earning my degree in criminal justice, which, if I'm lucky, will earn me a whopping $30k a year. I can make double or even triple that in sales. I'm torn. Do I go after the money or something that could make a difference to people other than just myself?

I'm an auto sales whore.
I recently started a new career in auto sales. By "recently," I mean five days ago. I've sold half a car. That's the wording in the biz. It means I assisted another salesperson in a deal that became a sale, or he assisted me, which is, of course, the actual case.

In sales, in order to make a living, a person needs to sell something. I sold myself the other day. And I'm so proud.

I was in the customer lounge, right outside the office where a customer of mine was working out the numbers with my assistant manager, and this guy came up to me and commented on the wait. He and I talked at length about just how long buying a car can take.

After chatting for fifteen minutes, I notice my customer leaving the office, so I excuse myself and ask him what's going on. The numbers can't be worked out, so he's leaving. I do my "sorry it didn't work out, here's my business card" shpeel (which is, in fact, quite lovely and sincere), he leaves, and to my surprise, the man I've been talking to asks for my business card and informs me that he's a business owner and will do his business with me in the future. He just bought a truck and is buying another next week, and he's going to send all his employees and business contacts to me as well. He knows I'm still horribly green, but I'll do everything in my power to make the buying experience painless and perhaps even pleasant.

The moral of the story is, be yourself, and you'll go far. Yay, me! I can't sell anything but myself, but in this case, it's perfectly acceptable.

Smooth criminal
I'm friends with convicts. Yes, I am. And you should be too. Some of the most interesting people I've ever met are felons. This is going to prove to the world what a spaz I am, but I'm saying it anyway: I sometimes make a list of questions to ask my con friends. I want to know what crimes they committed, why they committed them, what they learned in prison, what they want to do now that they're on the outside again, everything. It's like research for a paper I'll never write.

Besides that, I'm a better person for knowing these men. No, I didn't say that I feel like a better person when I'm around these guys, in the sense a girl might feel skinnier when she's around her chubby friends. Anyone who's spent time in prison has an appreciation for life that the average person can never attain. A sunset on the ocean's horizon is that much more beautiful. A day spent fishing is that much more thrilling. Not to endorse criminal behaviour or anything, but I must say that getting out of prison is kind of like being given a second childhood in a sense. When I'm around these guys, I'm overwhelmed by those things I once took for granted, and that's something I'd never give up.

Is this high school all over again? (Say it isn't so!)
I have a crush. I had a different one just a few weeks ago. What the hell is going on? I'm a 28-year-old woman with no problems finding dates.

I had a crush on a friend of mine for over a month. It was somewhat embarassing, as I wear my heart on my sleeve, so many of our mutual friends knew about it, and I found myself in the role of bumbling idiot all too often. This friend and I hang out rather frequently, sometimes with others, sometimes just the two of us, so having a crush on him was just plain silly, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I got over that a little before Christmas, and I was rejoicing.

And then life played another practical joke on me. I have a crush again! This time's both better and worse. He likes me, and very few of my family and friends would approve of him. I don't really care much about what people think of me, but when someone's talking smack about someone I adore, I stand up for the person. I'm willing to let the issue fade away, but it always comes up again. Besides that, he's a friend of a friend, and regardless of where this goes, my friend will be in an awkward position. If it goes well, the guy who's like a brother to me will probably end up hearing about me naked. If it goes poorly, he may become accustomed to hearing me referred to as simply "that bitch." I don't need this excitement in my life. The new job, new apartment and new roommate are enough for a while.

What I want to be when I grow up
I've come to a time in my life when I believe I've come to terms with who I am as a person. I like me. I don't think I'm going to change drastically in the future, like I did when I was younger. I went through a dark period when I cut myself, wore all black, and even planned my own funeral. I went through a domestic period when I was perfectly content to sit at home and play house. At 27, I finally settled into being comfortable with just being ME. I've made some mistakes, but I'm not a horrible person, and I'm kinda cool at times.

Anywho...so even though I know WHO I am, I haven't yet decided what I'm meant to do. I'm studying criminal justice, but the jobs that interest me in that field are actually somewhat dangerous and pay poorly. I'm considering several other careers, but so many appeal to me that I can't narrow in on just one.

A friend of mine laughed at me a few days ago when I excitedly told him about a new career opportunity. He implied that I change my mind too often to possibly be serious, but the truth is, everytime I find a career that interests me, I'm really eager to get into it. Childish, perhaps, but at least I'm not jaded, right?

I feel pretty, oh so pretty
I'm Californian. I may have been raised in the midwest, but I've always thought more radically than the average Nebraskan.

I had microdermabrasion yesterday, and it was heavenly. The sensation I was told to expect was described to me as a cat licking my face. Towards the end of the treatment, I laughed because I remembered that description, and I'd never have allowed my kitty to lick my face so raw. It wasn't bad, mind you, but my face definitely felt like it'd been rubbed against a five o'clock shadow for an hour or so.

While I was getting the treatment, I had my hands covered in paraffin, and after the doctor removed the wax, she gave me a hand and arm massage. She kept reminding me that it was my turn to be cared for, so I needed to simply lie back and relax. I love her! She didn't try to sell me anything extra, and the hand treatment wasn't advertised, so it was completely extra, as far as I was concerned. If you ever find yourself in San Diego, in need of a good facial, look her up. Her name's Dr. Ellen Gabel, and she's on First Street, not far from the airport. (Shameless plugging.)

My skin is so smooth now, and I'll go back in a few weeks. Woo hoo!

Time to talk about the blog itself....
Someone read my page years ago and recommended I make a blog. This was back when blogs were relatively new, so I'd never heard of them, but after they became more popular, I remembered what she'd said, so technically, I owe all the credit to her. So if you ever read this, person who told me years ago that I should write a blog, thanks.

This is just going to be a place for me to write about my experiences. I'll try to keep the emotions and thoughts pretty raw, so I won't over-edit, but I'll try to maintain a decent level of journalistic flow and readability.

My thoughts tend to be random babbling, and I'll do my best to put them on paper that way, to put to paper what is true, not necessarily what sounds best.

a Seinfeld moment indeed
I have a confession. While outspoken and usually quick to ask about anything that confuses me, I'd rather not know someone's name than have to ask after chatting with the person for a month.

I met someone online over a month ago, and we exchanged introductions before we ended that first chat. The next day, I noticed him online again, and I'd enjoyed chatting with him previously, so I said hi, and we chatted a while longer. This continued a week or two before I realized I had no idea what his name was. (Yes, it really took me a while. I chat with so many people online that I frequntly chat with people whose names I never know. It's just the way chat works.) It wasn't until we discussed meeting in person that I acknowledged to myself that I had completely forgotten his name, and I needed to come up with a way to get that information without his knowledge. (Of course, he's probably gonna read this someday and know everything.) The easiest way, I decided, would be to get my friend to sign onto Yahoo while he was here fixing my computer. With any luck, Mystery Man would be online, and he'd think my friend was me, so he'd say hi, and my friend would naturally introduce himself, and Mystery Man would follow suit. I could have carried out this scenario myself, of course, but I wanted to be as honest as possible. Not knowing his name was never dishonest. It was just an embarassing little situation I might have cleared up myself by simply asking his name. Anywho...so my friend was over, fixing the computer, but when he was done, I signed on instead of him, and that ruined that plan.

The more I chatted with Mystery Man, the more I liked him, and I even mentioned him to my best friend, who reminded me of the episode of Seinfeld when Jerry had made out with a woman whose name he couldn't remember, and he couldn't very well ask THEN.

I was accidentally saved rather recently when I saw Mystery Man log in, and I said "hi," only to be told that the person chatting with me wasn't Bill*, it was Bill's son. Woo hoo! I was starting to worry that I'd have to ask Mystery Man to sign the marriage license first and look at the name while I was signing it myself so I wouldn't find myself saying "Oh, that's his name" when the justice of the peace asked if I'd take him in sickness and in health. Okay, so not really. I hadn't even met him in person yet, and marriage scares me.


* indicates the name has been changed

Holy cow, I'm a big girl now.
I recently had the experience of meeting someone from the internet. Yes, I've done this dozens of times, but this time was different. In the past, I've seen a pic or two of the person before we've met in person. Even if the pic's blurry, grainy, or taken from across a football field, I feel I know what to expect, at least a little bit. Not this time. I had seen no pics. In fact, the day before we were scheduled to meet, I was somewhat surprised to learn he's a couple of inches shorter than I. I've dated shorter men in the past, so I didn't think this would bother me too much, but I found myself worrying if perhaps I would judge. Yep, you read that right. I'm no more judgmental than the average person, but when you meet someone online and have no picture to put to the typing and voice, there's always the chance that when you meet in person, the reality will shock you to the roots of your hair and leave you a little embarassed at being so into the person. It's a harsh reality, but it's reality all the same.

Luckily, the guy's not hard on the eyes, but I found myself thinking that it really wouldn't have mattered too much.