Monthly Archives: September 2013

Live From the Hosiery Department: Week One

My first week as a retail employee has come to a close.  First, let me begin by saying that I have a newfound respect for those of you out there that work in retail or that have jobs where you must stand up and be on your feet for hours.  I applaud you and now share your pain. 

This is my first retail job and going from customer to sales rep is a bit trippy.  In my first week, the concept of “SELL!  SELL!  SELL!” has been constantly drilled into my head.  It felt like I was sitting in on a conversation while somebody was talking shit about me without knowing I was there.  Is this how customers look to people that work in retail?  Am I a dollar sign in the eyes of every salesperson that sees me walk through the double doors of their store?  Of course many people are getting paid off of commission and so your money does affect their income, but I can’t help but to feel like a slab of meat being dangled in front of a pack of salivating hyenas.  And now I am a hyena, only I think I may be a vegetarian.  I hate to be harassed or feel like I’m being persuaded into a purchase that I do not sincerely want to make but now I’m required to schmooze little old ladies into buying 5 pairs of the same stockings for what I feel to be ridiculous amounts of cash.

Realistically, my store is meant to draw in the customers that have that extra stack of cash to blow on frivolous items that us commoners would never.  But that doesn’t stop me from feeling a twinge of guilt every time I swipe one of their credit cards and watch them sign away 200+ dollars just for a pair of Spanx.  But I guess if you’ve got it like that….

Aside from having to drown out my conscience when pushing embellished tights and organic socks, my job isn’t half bad.  I do enjoy the feeling of knowing that I have some sort of money coming in.  I don’t plan on making this a permanent career choice, but it sure as hell beats sitting at home all day eating everything in sight and lying to my mother about my level of productivity.  I also hope that this job can serve as a means of inspiration for a couple of funny stories and lessons about human behavior.  There is nothing like watching the 1%ers in their natural habitats.  This is also an opportunity to work on my people skills.  A writer must live many lives and I think having various occupations helps in that department.

So here’s to week one being a success and to taking every experience and turning it into something worth writing about.  

Workin’ Girl

Trying to find a job is a job in itself.  I sometimes imagine what my income would be if I got paid for every time I opened up my laptop, edited my resume, wrote a cover letter and visited the various job search websites out there.  Then I imagine how much I’d make for every job that told me that I needed more experience.  I seem to have more experience in being told “no” than anything else.  If you ever want to know how to NOT get the job, just ask me.

But the Lords of Labor have finally decided to cut me a little slack and for some reason, somebody has finally given me a job.  I’m now employed by the wonderful people at (insert clothing store here).  I have absolutely no experience in retail and the only things I’ve ever sold were chocolates for a school fund raiser in elementary school, snacks at summer camp and eventually brownies in college when funds and classmates were in need of elevation (I work well with food).  I’m excited to learn though.  But I’m more excited to finally have something constructive to do.  As insane as this may sound, the novelty of staying at home all day, eating various snacks, watching TV and taking naps does wear off.  Once you’ve had the frightening realization that you’re now too poor to go to free events, something has got to give.

Along with my job have come new responsibilities, of course.  I am now responsible for my phone bill and the electricity bill as well as the inevitable student loan payments that are coming in November.  I can deal with that I suppose.  For now I’m simply grateful to have something constructive to do now while I work on getting closer to my career goals and eventually becoming the kind of writer I dream of.  Baby steps.  Post-grad life is scary and gets depressing after awhile.  You wonder if you wasted 4+ years of schooling just to get a degree that you may never put to use.  I’ve had moments where I’ve kicked myself for getting a degree in creative writing and wonder why I couldn’t be passionate about something that was profitable.  But I am determined to take my God given talent and make it into something fruitful.  I never want to hate what I do for a living.  That degree WILL be put to use, got dammit!

Until then, my friends, if you ever need the hook-up on some hosiery, hit me up!

When Your Love Life Is A Drake Song

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What do you do when your love life has become a Drake song?  I don’t mean the kind where you’re about being single, seeing double and making triple.  And Lord knows I’m still at the bottom and couldn’t even locate “Here” on a map.  I’m talking about the songs where you’ve locked yourself in a room belonging to an R&B legend and proceed to drunk-dial your ex.  The songs where Jhene Aiko’s angelic voice floats on the chorus and you remember that July has come and gone and you’re experiencing the coldest winter ever (no Sistah Souljah). 

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a little hormonal and, therefore, like a water balloon: bloated and leaking water from my face.  Crying all night and drinking all summer has left me dehydrated and exhausted. Is it karma for my less than considerate behavior in my past?  Meeting guys that are good for me but finding trivial reasons to push them away is habitual, but can anyone let me know just how long is too long to wait before all the good ones go?  I chase after toxic men.  C’mon, Noelle, you can do better.  I don’t believe that we live in a generation of not being in love because it seems like everyone else around me is, which could only mean that I’m doing it wrong.

I could be forcing things.  I just ranted about not being ready for marriage in my last post right?  I may not be sure if I’m ready for that kind of commitment, but I know I’d like to meet someone I feel butterflies for and have no second thoughts about being with.  I was in love two years ago.  But, sadly, I got stuck with the baggage while he’s jet setting with his new girl and all of his friends.

No new friends and no new loves.  I’m not sure what I’m looking for but I’m sure I haven’t found it.  Is my love life finished?  Am I avoiding commitment?  I’m just trying to find a reason not to go out every evening (besides being broke or having cramps).  Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin’ with no make up on type of evenings with someone I wouldn’t mind sharing the last slice with.  Or my heart.  I’m a good girl and I know it but it doesn’t seem to do me many favors.  “Too many times I’ve been wrong.  I guess being right takes too long.  I’m done waiting..”

So what do you do when your love life has become a Drake song?

Do I?

According to popular opinion, everybody (woman) wants to get married.  Centuries and centuries of conditioning has taught us that women are born to marry, have children and be domestic dynamos because that’s what being a woman is all about.  I’ll admit that I’ve planned a wedding for every season for myself, including an under the sea inspired reception as an homage to my obsession with mermaids.  Its nice to think about being so very much in love with someone that you want to spend the rest of your mortal existence with him and that your obsessive, clingy emotions are reciprocated by said person, and that you need a piece of paper and ring to symbolize that you two are now obligated to put up with your weird smells, habits and eventually pollute the world with even more annoying mini versions of yourselves.  Real cute.  But when you’re being told to start thinking about these things before you even know where your next paycheck is coming from, you have to stop and think that if this forward think or some archaic notion that you THOUGHT you genuinely believed in but in reality, you never thought about anything else because you weren’t taught to.

Lets keep it real.  Marriage was not created because two people were in love.  Originally, marriage was a business contract between the male heads of two families.  Women weren’t seen as useful but instead were just extra mouths to feed aside from being the ones to do the work the men did not want to do as well as a hole to stick their dicks in.  Crude, but true.  You gave your daughter away (which still happens in today’s ceremonies.  It came form somewhere, folks) to another man in exchange for livestock, land, money, etc.  She was someone else’s problem now.  Love was not a deciding factor in this exchange of property.  I’m not sure who it was that decided to pitch the idea that marriage was about romance, but whom ever it was a slick thinker.  With love attached to this otherwise cold, misogynistic tradition, people were more accepting.  As time went on, women were allowed to choose and accept or deny with whom they would marry.  Thank God for progress.  But we haven’t totally let go of our “old fashioned” notions.

I’m 23, very single and not even sure if marriage is what I want. (I know I want a WEDDING.  I don’t know if I want a MARRIAGE).  In 1920, this statement would have been a red flag for most, if not all.  But its not 1920.  Its 2013.  Being 23 in 2013 is a beautiful thing.  There are so many opportunities and people to meet and connect with and learn from, why do I have to start thinking about forever with one person?  My mother loves to ask me why I so quickly dispose of guys and my response to her is always “I’m in no rush”.  I read recently that after the age of 21, I shouldn’t be dealing with anyone that I do not see a future with.  Well….why?  Why can’t I just date to date?  At 21, I had my first legal drink and the party’s already over?  No! I haven’t even danced to my favorite song yet!

My best friend tried to convince me a few months ago that her now ex boyfriend would have been the man she married.  We hadn’t even gotten our undergrad diplomas yet and she was talking marriage?  Needless to say, I hit her with the “I told you so” after making sure she was alright with the break-up.  They’d only been seeing one another for a few months anyway.  I’m not saying you are incapable of really loving a person before you’re 30 years old but life happens and the universe has a mean curve ball.  Who says that the person you love now will still be the same person years from now?

Healthy, happy marriages are beautiful and when I see one, it makes my heart smile.  I’m far from against serious, long-term relationships and maybe one day I’ll love someone as much as I love pizza.  Maybe I’m jaded because my mother got married only so that she could move out of my grandparents’ house and my grandparents married to avoid a family scandal and I don’t have a solid example of “forever”.  But I’m far from planning futures with anyone beside myself.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the company of the opposite sex and cry while watching The Notebook when Noah tells Allie he wants all of her forever.  But unless the actual Ryan Gosling were to kiss me hard in the rain after a romantic boat ride on his lake surrounded by ducks, I don’t see it for me anytime before 30.  How old were your parents when they got married?  Are they still happy?  Was their marriage a success?  Any regrets about waiting to long or not long enough?  Regret is the last thing I want to associate my relationships with and so I want to take my time (which is ironic because I fall in and out of love faster than Kim K drops her panties for famous black dick).  If no one told us that we’re supposed to settle down and get married, would we?  Would you be so willing to say “I do”?

Twenty-Something ‘N Counting

Summer is over.  I’ve done a sufficient amount of damage to my liver, bank account and mother’s sanity.  I’d say it was a job well done.  But now what?  Here comes the fun part: Adulthood.  I’m home from college with a degree in creative writing and no job (yet).  And while our twenties are universally recognized as the decade to make a mess of your life while figuring out what you really want out of it, theres little room for error or permanent damage.  Twenty-three was fun, but twenty-four means I’m almost twenty-five and twenty-five means I’m almost thirty and thirty means i”m almost a rotting corps.  Its time to formulate a plan.  If not for me, then for my mother so that she may stop harassing me (so I guess it’s still for me).

So while I muddle through this adulthood thing, I’m hoping that this blog will serve as a means to vent and channel the inevitable head and heart aches  that I will encounter the best way I know how; honestly and assholely.  Lets get started shall we?