Accomplishing Escapism

BIRD ON FRIDAY

In other news, I'm going to the midnight show of Harry Potter tonight, and I'm totally excited.  Today has been a very good day; I got a couple of polo shirts for work (they're Converse, so they have a neat little star emblem on them) and I also got Across the Universe at a 40% discount because, unlike the Java House, Borders ENCOURAGES their employees to sign up for their customer program.  I discovered that Trader Joe's has those delicious ice cream mochi balls, but that they didn't have hearts of palm today, which made me really sad.

Wow, I really thought I had more news than that.  Um, I learned how to play Warhammer 40K the other night, and it was a whole lot of fun, so my nerd quotient just extrapolated that much more.  It's a much simpler game than WarMachine, which I appreciate, even though I love WarMachine a whole lot.  My first game was not entirely humiliating; Billy played Chaos, and I underused one of my units, but I handled myself pretty admirably.

I sent in my down payment on Dizzy, so he is officially the bird I will be receiving.  I bought a birdcage and bedding today, and will be getting some toys this weekend (I'm going to wait to get food until RIGHT before he arrives, just so I know it won't spoil or anything).  So now Keith the breeder just needs to arrange the flight, and Dizzy and I can begin our birdie friendship.  :D

I also started my job at Borders FINALLY.  I went in on Thursday and filled out all of the paperwork, and did some training stuff.  It's funny, it took me like four weeks at the Java House to get to learn how to use the espresso machine, and Borders got me on it the very first day - my supervisor had me make a latte, a cappuchino, and three different kinds of mocha before my "shift" was over.  I'm working next week Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, and hopefully after my training is done I'll be getting more hours as I can work more by myself.  It'll be nice to have something to DO, although I'll be sad to see my free time go out the window.

I'm almost done painting a unit of Dryads for my wood elf army, which is significant to me because they will be my very first completed unit of any models.  I had to take a break from my elf guard because their cloaks ended up the wrong color, it's a much more teal shade of blue than I wanted (I'm doing a winter themed army, so I'm trying for a more gray color).  I think I'll be ready to rethink them following my success flush after the Dryads.  /nerd moment

I watched Dead Snow tonight with Billy and my dad, and EVERYONE SHOULD SEE THIS MOVIE.  It's NAZI ZOMBIES.  NO REALLY.  ZOMBIE THAT ARE ALSO NAZIS.  And it's Norwegian, too, so it features a whole lot of Scandinavian rock music. :D

I've decided to be a responsible pet owner and put my search for a rescue dog on indefinite hold.  My living situation is simply too unstable to justify getting one - I want to be able to provide assurance and the guarantee of a good home for a dog, and right now I have larger priorities.  Does that mean I'm not getting a beastie?  Oh no.

I've had parakeets for years.  I love them - they're little balls of feathers full of surprising amounts of intelligence, energy, and personality.  But frankly after Walter, my last keet, I don't think I could stomach getting another one.  He was pretty much the perfect little guy, and after him, I think keets would just make me sad.  But this is why there are multiple species of birds.

Birds make awesome, awesome pets.  They're small, but really smart, and affectionate and very silly.  I've been doing some research into larger species of birds, and I'm now making inquiries into green cheeked conures.



They're personable, affectionate, intelligent, and like to be petted and scratched (my keets were always a little handshy).  I'm just so thrilled thinking about having one of these sweeties.  We'll see what my inquiry leads to - the only problem I'm running into right now is that there aren't any breeders in Illinois with hatchlings at the moment, and I don't know how I feel about having a baby shipped to me (a lot of breeders do it, so I'm asking around what the process is and how safe it is, so we'll see).  I might end up driving seven hours down to Missouri to pick up my baby, but you know what?  I'd totally do it.

AAAHHHHH

( Transformers 2 spoiler alert )

Today will probably be my last day at my dad's office, which means I get a couple days of downtime before starting at Borders.  Which I'm really glad about; it'll be nice to just enjoy the summer for a couple of days.

I went to see two apartments yesterday with my supposed future roommates, and I learned two very valuable things: 

1. My budget concerns are Not The Same as theirs, and

2. They are both ready to move yesterday.

I'm frustrated, because I definitely talked to Rachel and made absolutely clear that the job I will be starting pays $8.25 an hour, and that my price range for rent was going to be between $300 and $400 a month.  One of the places we saw yesterday was $1900 and the other was $1800, neither of which included utilities - apparently Rachel never communicated my financial concerns to the third girl who's involved in all of this (a friend of Rachel's from work who I have met all of twice), and Natasha was looking for places starting at $1500 and moving way up from there.  When I mentioned my concerns Natasha got snippy, throwing out a "Wll, I didn't know we had such tight money restraints" etc.  Which pissed me off, because it's a valuable concern and even though I had thought Rachel and I were agreed on our price range, she obviously didn't tell Natasha.

The second concern I have is that I am simply not ready to move.  I've been home for just over a month, and the idea of rushing out of my parents' home is extremely stressful to me.  I don't intend to live here forever, but the timeline Rachel and I had discussed implied to me that we wouldn't actually be moving until sometime in the fall.  By then I would be ready - I'd have a bit of money saved up, I'd be acclimated to being in town, and so forth.  And now they're both ready to fork over the deposit for this place, and move in like next week, and I simply cannot do that.

I'm angry and a little hurt by the fact that I thought Rachel and I were on the same page, and we're obviously not.  The fact that I talked to her about my constraints and concerns, and the fact that they are being ignored, makes me feel like I'm a tagalong on this whole venture and that it's really about what THEY want (which is a little insulting because I was the one who first brought up the idea of living together with just Rachel, and Natasha is a last-minute addition). 

I'm not looking forward to the conversation I have to have with them today, because they were SO in love with the place we looked at.  But on top of the money and timeframe, it would land me with an hour commute to work, there aren't any grocery stores in the area and none of us has a car, and they don't allow pets, I have solid reasons why this is a bad choice for me.  I dropped the ball a bit when I didn't communicate this to them yesterday, but frankly I didn't want Natasha up in my face again after her shit-fit about my salary.  I'm going to tell Rachel that we're in vastly different places and that I think it would be better if the two of them looked for something to suit their needs, and I'll sit tight until October or November when I can do this without causing massive emotional and financial trouble for myself.  Which I think is frankly more than fair.

 I'm in California visiting with my lovely friend Gina, and we spent today shopping.  Only apparently California malls don't actually contain real stores - they have all been replaced with designer stores that charge more for a dress than I make in a month.

How is it that we, as a people (because God knows I do this too), have decided that it's not only acceptable but desirable to spend ludicrous amounts of money on clothing, simply because of the name on the label?  It's appalling that, on waltzing into, say, the Armani Exchange, one can find a shirt on sale for $200, and call it a great deal.  $200 for a shirt is not a great deal.  It is highway robbery, only worse because we submit to it with our eyes open our wallets at the ready.  And I don't want to hear about how designer clothes are so much more with the quality than, oh, a shirt I'd get at Old Navy.  A ribbed tank top is a ribbed tank top, whether you're paying $7 for it at Old Navy or $50 for it at Abercrombie & Fitch.

I don't know why this bugs me so much.  I'm tired of looking at beautiful things I can't afford just because someone, somewhere is loose enough with their money that they decided $1500 was a fair price for a babydoll dress.  If enough people decided enough was enough, that we would no longer shell out God knows how much money for clothes, maybe the hierarchy of labels would even out.  Or maybe not.  I dunno.

I did score some pretty awesome underwear at the Victoria's Secret sale.  Used my Angel card for the first time, too.  Wasn't a bad day, all in all.

I was going to post a big long thing here about a horrifying nightmare I had last night, and a mini-rant about how some of the rules animal shelters have set up are ridiculous, but then DW totally ate my entire post.  So, to sum up:

1. Had a nightmare last night of trying to save Dan (my friend who's been causing all the drama) from a shark attack, not being able to, and finding him drowned and dead.  Have determined that this means my brains want me to talk to him, even though I don't think it's in my best interest.  It's apparently causing me anxiety, so I have to try and do SOMETHING about it.

2. Went downtown today with my friend Ed and his Bitchface Girlfriend (for anyone who heard this story, that's the girl who accused me of being a homewrecker last summer.  Today we apparently decided we were going to ignore that incident).  It was fun except for Bitchface, who has an annoying tendency to try and lecture me about things I already know about (yes, I DO know that it is best to buy surgical steel body jewelry, CAN YOU COUNT THE PIERCINGS IN MY HEAD, WOMAN).  We stopped at the Chicago Humane Society, who told me I couldn't adopt a particular dog (this dog, to be precise) because she was considered "high risk," and I'd never owned a dog by myself before.  Never mind that I have EXTENSIVE experience with rescue dogs, or that I worked in a bording center for three years with dogs ranging from mild to monster, or that I currently share space with a 50 pound hound that's a bundle of neuroses.  Also never mind the fact that the rules don't appear to apply once you get to the interview phase of adopting, since they call references and quiz you deeply about your background.  They wouldn't even let me PLAY with this dog.  I was kinda peeved.

3. Had a lovely evening in with my boyfriend, in which we ate tasty pastas, watched Rome, and I got some painting done.  I'll tell you about the hobby stuffs later, when I'm not so desperate for sleeeeeeps.

I've made a severely poor judgement call.  I thought for a moment that having the possibility of a job meant that it was ok to go to petfinder.com and do a search on young, small dogs in shelters in the Chicagoland area. 

This was a bad idea.

First the search turned up Benjamin, a shiba inu/terrier mix someone found camping out in a construction sight.  I cannot adopt Benjamin because the shelter he's at limits adoptions to people at least 24 years old.  Search number two was Darren, a doofy looking white thing with a shepherd's head on a wee body.  Search three was my doom.

( Meet Cody. And my downfall. )

I was DESPERETELY concerned when I looked at the shelter's website and Cody wasn't listed.  I am SO concerned about the fact that I'm already thinking about him in terms of adoption.  I knew this was something I was going to do, and it's totally my fault for beginning the search just slightly too early, but is too early by a month or two really a problem?  Gah.  I'm in trouble.

Yesterday I thought it might be interesting to look up what it takes to get a paralegal certificate, since that's just the official name for the work I do for my dad anyway.  I was thinking getting the certificate might be a good idea, since I could probably make more money and get work at other lawfirms.  And what did I find out that the average paralegal can make in a year?

Up to $60K.  A year.  My mom said that the paralegals working at CitiCorp when she was there were making <B>$80K</B>.

So yeah.  New plan, guys.  Not just a frivolous one, either - I LIKE working in my dad's firm.  It's interesting work, there's always something to do, and I'm smack in the middle of the city.  I do not want to go to law school or become a lawyer, but yeah, I do find law interesting and I know I can handle the work of a paralegal.  Plus, there are several accredited online programs OR schools in the Chicago area I could attend; with my BA, it wouldn't take more than a year or two to finish the accredation. 

Although, I was very irritated with the Kaplan people yesterday - barely twenty minutes after I requested info from their site, they were CALLING me at work to talk to me.  When I politely explained that I was at work, and would there be a better time for me to call them back? the woman on the phone said it would only take a minute and proceeded to talk at me for twenty more minutes.  I confess to being rather rude, since I was, you know, at WORK, but she seriously just kept going.  I didn't want to hang up on her, since I am interested in their program, but really?  Even after I said I couldn't talk, because I was at work, which is a completely reasonable place for me to be at 3:30 in the afternoon, you had to keeeeeeeeep going?

And then later in the day I got ANOTHER call.  It wouldn't have been so bad, except I indicated on the sites that I was not looking for immediate enrollment - that this was a very in-the-future sort of deal, so no, I am not going to know exactly what I am doing NOW THIS INSTANT.  And repeating your questions about eight times won't get a better answer from me.  So I'm screening my calls for the next couple of days - I don't like being trapped on the phone with nothing useful to say, especially when I didn't ask for the call.