Bienvenidos a...Annapolis?

"Not fare well, but fare forward, voyagers"

-T.S. Eliot 

I am not moving to Miami.  And as amazingly unhappy as you might imagine me to be, I find that this resolution is actually quite a relief.  

I've spent the last 8 months of my life sending resumes, making phone calls, hitting up contacts to get a job down there.  One by one, everything fell through.  

Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something, as Lindsay offered.  If I was supposed to have been in Miami, I would have been there long ago-and not dealing, here, with tons of setbacks.

This means a lot of really exciting things. 

1. I can stay in the area, surrounded by people I love.
2. I am open to finding more than these temporary jobs.  DC is right up the road.  I anticipate I'll be able to find something way more easily (I've already put my notice in at Starbucks for August 1st).  There are already some really kick ass places that I have found to send my resume.
3. I have a lot of friends here...and zero friends in Miami.
4. I won't have to move all of my stuff to yet another strange location (I am going to uhaul my storaged possessions up to Annapolis at the end of August).
5. A lot of my photography contacts are in fact...HERE.
6. I'll be able to save LOTS more money than I would in Miami.
7. I am/will be infinitely less stressed out.
8. Venus (my cat) will be happier here (where she is allowed to roam the outdoors).
9. The trivia night possibilities are ENDLESS!  (Mike, you're so on!  Dan, Gabe and I are going to shut your little team down this weekend!)

So...if you have any tips/contacts for working in this area, help a sista out.

PHOTO:  Lindsay Smith on our full moon boat outing a few days ago.

"You sure you're not pregnant?"

"These cucumber eyes are lying the more that I smile about."

-Frou Frou

So I know that I said enough with the word thing...in lieu of more picture thing, but this blog was too richly embedded in wrath that I could not pass it up.

Sidenote-my move to Miami might get changed from August to September.  I'm pissed and I don't want to talk about it.

HOWEVER- I have put in my notice, as you all have probably already read, at both Starbucks and Bare Escentuals (for Annapolis anyway).  I would be ok with postponing my resignation at the make-up store.  I like the people there.  It is a creative outlet.  I am able to make it fun.  Its ok.  And then there is Starbucks.  Literally, the only reason why I am not completely despondent when I walk into that place is the fact that I know (knew?) I was only going to be there till August.  It was only yesterday that I found out I might be staying here for longer.  Last night I was thinking about it while doing dishes at Starbucks...and I was in tears.  TEARS!  I'm pretty good at being uncomfortable, but I am so not kidding when I say that in no way am I capable of working there any longer than August 16th.  If I can even make it that far-

 

Yeah its partly the fact that everyone there is either older/married with children, or very very very very very young, and as a result I it is pretty difficult to find things to talk about with my co-workers.  That the customers never really say hello back.  That when the customers do say something to me, its usually something to the effect of, "SMILE!" (which I CANNOT stand!  My not smiling face on display is not one of misery.  Rather it is one of "let me not F- up this iced triple grande soy lite whip lite ice in a venti cup latte."), "um I want HER to make my drink because you messed it up last time," "hey are you one of the Starbucks' that is closing?", "UGH! (eye roll) what do you MEAN you guys don't make decaf frap base anymore?", etc. etc. etc.  That I have to clean the public bathrooms (I've got a flipping masters degree.  The only toilet I will ever voluntarily scrub is my own).  BUT MOSTLY, for situations like the following:

This past Sunday I was leaving work when I was stopped by a co-worker on the way to my car.  She was sitting outside with a few of her friends.  And there were some other people (REGULARS!) sitting within earshot of her words, which were as follows:

"Katie, I've been meaning to talk to you about this- You've been looking kind of big in the stomach area lately-"

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!  Ok.

1. I have worked VERY HARD to lose about 20 pounds since moving from Savannah in November.  Stress, poverty, and depression certainly take its toll on you whilst working on a masters thesis.  I certainly had some weight that I could lose, but even then- no one would have EVER called me fat. 
   
2. In high school I was somewhat of a unintentional anorexic.  I had an extreme case of social phobia.  I pretty much ran with one girl all through high school, and consequently, she was never in the same lunch I was always assigned to (We had 3 different lunch periods at good ol' Annapolis High School).  So I did what any level headed 13-17-year-old would do...instead of making the EXTREMELY dangerous walk over to a table of new people and introducing myself, I took the much less painful route.  I took an extra class instead of lunch.  Consequently, it was always a photography class offered at that time.  Hurrah, to my very unhealthy photography roots.  SO- I would have to be in school by 7:17am (on an empty stomach, because that is just too damn early for food), go 7 straight class periods till 1:55pm (maybe having eaten an apple or some peanut butter crackers that I snuck into Spanish class), and then go run track or cross country for 3 hours after school.  The only meal I ever consistently ate throughout those 4 years was dinner.  I look back on those years and just remember going to sleep when I would get back from practice, waking up for dinner, then sleeping for the rest of the night afterwards.  Gee, I wonder why!  How STUPID!
3. WHO THE HELL SAYS THAT!?  I don't care how fat someone may or may not be!

I believe I answered (after realizing my jaw was on the ground), something to the effect of, "well, I'm not sure what to say about that, but I did just lose a lot of weight, and I make a point of going to the gym as much as my schedule allows..."

"OH! No, I didn't mean, like, that you're looking fat," she stammered, "I meant, like, maybe something else was going on...?"  *insert eye brow raise*

I'm not pregnant.  I've never been pregnant.  Perhaps-I will never be pregnant.  And I've CERTAINLY never looked like I've been pregnant, no matter how much  I have weighed!  Honestly, if you do not know if someone is pregnant, why would you ever ask them unless you had some sort of proof?  Like seeing a foot poking out of the mother's stomach! 

I informed her, much more politely than I should have, that I was indeed not pregnant.  And then I promptly turned and walked to my car, whilst all the regulars whispered to one another.  I'm pretty sure I heard a "you sure you're not pregnant?!" but I ignored it.

I shook it off, and didn't much let it get to me.  Everyone to whom I have recounted this story has come to the conclusion that this is some very jealous, very crazy girl.

I'd pretty much forgotten about it.  Until today.  

"Katie, you're glowing today!  Whats going ON!?!" *insert eyebrow raise*

I really do not consider myself a violent person, but...

At this very moment, my manager (who is younger than me) is pregnant with her second child, and this girl, cannot be more than 20, has a kid herself.  Does she think that Starbucks is a hotbed for pregnancy inducing pheromones? Is she just looking for baby mama company?  Is she trying to make the blond, thin, attractive girl feel bad about herself?  Whatever it is-I am pretty friggin' over it.

And I apologize for the cliche cyberspace stomach shot, but it had to be done.  There is no baby in there.

8-Year-Old Love

"Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise."

-Freud

I was logging onto MySpace yesterday and WHAM!  You have a friend request from one "Andy Routzahn"

Andy Routzahn

ANDY Routzahn!

Andy my little 8-year-old heart becomes twice its size and beats out of my chest every time you walk into our 3rd grade class room Routzahn!

I loved Andy Routzahn.  I loved him so desperately with all of my 3'10, 60 pound being.

Andy and I went to elementary school together.  We both lived in a little town called Trappe, MD, that I'm sure many of you have driven through on your way to Ocean City,  but failed to notice.  It is located directly past Easton and before Cambridge known by most for little more than the one stop light and gas station on RT. 50.  ANYWAY, I don't quite remember the first time I laid eyes on him, but the memory of his little 8 year old smile lined by rows and rows of freckles is burned in my mind.  He had the kind of smile that was so big that his eyes would mutate into little crescents of dark brown.  My little 8-year-old mind was convinced that he was absolutely the one for me. 

After the usual, "Hey man, been a while, hows life?" one liners I worked up the courage to confess the immeasurable love that I felt for him as a little girl.  Kind of.  I figured that I would sound like a lunatic if I informed him the way I've been informing all of you here, so I said it in a way that seemed as though I couldn't QUITE remember.  Ha!

He replied with:

"Haha wasn't White Marsh wonderful...and I'm pretty sure we got "married" in 3rd grade.  I remember people brought their recorders to recess for the ceremony."

I HAD TOTALLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT!

HOW DOES AN 8-YEAR-OLD FORGET HER OWN WEDDING WITH THE "MAN" OF HER DREAMS!?!

Well...I'm actually not surprised.  

Upon recollection I do remember that he came to school that day all dressed up with flowers for me.  By recess I was so nervous and worked up because EVERYONE was talking about the big event, that I just decided I couldn't go through with it.  At recess I was hiding with one of my friends when the sea of children came to find me.  They dragged me from my hiding place over to where Andy was standing (next to the tire swing) completely composed, smiling bravely, SO ready to begin the rest of his 8-year-old life with the "woman" he loved(?).  I don't quite recall the outcome, but I seem to think it involved teachers breaking up the masses of kids around this blond, sobbing, little girl.  I'd left him at the (tire swing) altar.  Perhaps it was just too painful for me to remember.

The sad reality to this tale is the fact that now, 17 years later, I can still recall what that felt like.  I can remember the intensity of those feelings.  It was maybe the purest love that there could ever be.  And as a result it seems so much stronger than what one is able to feel as an adult.  These days so many things get in the way of that pure love: jobs, money, sex (some people might say the opposite but this is MY blog), distance, money, time, ex-partners, infidelities,  baggage, substance abuse, intellect, road rage, you  name it.  Ok so yes, I know that love at 8-years-old lacks quite a bit of depth (to say the least) and as a result is bound for a rather dim future.  Even still, at 8-years-old, you have nothing more to care about than the one you love.  I think that this can be the only time when someone can truly be your entire world.

And does this mean that I'm going to have to stop doubting that 18-year-old I work with at Starbucks who gushes over her 33-year-old boyfriend of 3 weeks, with 2 kids, and a not quite divorced wife, that she met in N.A.?  Um...yeah, that's a bit too much to ask. 

Andy Routzahn is still adorable-in a much more adult way.  Those freckles are not they were (which is tragic), but I believe he is making up for it with tattoos.  After high school he joined the military and left after his four years in 2005 when he decided that it wasn't for him.  He is currently back in Iraq, because they called him back in 2007 for a year.  Pretty messed up...don't even get me started.  He is in my thoughts.

And I promise to stop this writing nonsense in favor of posting photos just as soon as I figure out how to do it.  Stop laughing.

Triple grande nothing.

"After this, we will all have to live a little differently."

-Rilke

Welp...after a 9 month hiatus from blogging...I'M BACK!

I was at work yesterday with a sudden urge of hypergraphia.  Well no wonder-I've not really expressed myself in ANY way in about the time it takes to cook a baby.  Sadly photo has just about taken a back seat in my very busy/highly unfulfilling recent existence.

We'll begin with the typical re-getting to know you stuff.

1.  Got my masters (hence the last post) and moved out of Savannah F-ing Georgia not a moment too soon late in November.

2.  Though I had HIGH aspirations of going to Art Basel in Miami in December, striking up conversations with gallery owners/photographers/university hiring committees/collectors/art world people, and having them fall MADLY in love with me to the point where they're on their knees begging me to not return to Maryland for the holidays, because they "just cannot go on for another day without having ME on their staff!,"   it didn't quite work out that way.  I think I gave out perhaps 2 of my 30 printed resumes.  I assume that one person probably just needed some spare paper to spit her gum out in, the other guy likely hoping that he could see me naked sometime in the near future.

3.  I moved back home with my mom in December for what was supposed to be a month.  Initially it was just to spend some time at home with loved ones for the holidays before I was whisked away to Miami for that full time, high paying job with phenomenal health benefits that I would be landing "ANY DAY NOW."  Hey, I went to grad school, people are going to absolutely FIGHT OVER ME right?  

4.  YIPPEEEEEEEE!   Still in Maryland.  Last time I checked it was Tuesday, July 15th.  Don't get me wrong, it has been wonderful to hang out with my mom (who is without a doubt my best friend) and step-dad, Jim, who is also really sweet, but that is but one aspect of my existence.  Albeit a big/good one.  

January came.  Still no job offers despite LOTS of resumes sent.  As more time went on I became more and more aware of how much going to grad school had screwed me financially and how maybe I wasn't nearly the commodity that the Savannah College of Art and Design told me I was.  I had been working for Jim, but business was pretty slow that time of year.  Panicked, I took a job at Starbucks (mostly for the health insurance), and assured myself that it would be only for a little while.  Instead of January, March 1 became my Miami move date.  

By mid-February, after many more resumes, it became clear that I wasn't going anywhere.  Maybe it is the recession.  Maybe it is the fact that I am such a threat as this will be my "first" job out of (grad) school.  Maybe everyone goes through this and up till this point in my professional life I've just been lucky.  

Over the last nine months one and a half jobs grew to four.  Assisting my step dad's home-repair business, Starbucks, substitute teaching in Anne Arundel county, and then Bare Escentuals ("the NUMBER 1 mineral make-up in the WORLD!!!").  Over time, working for Jim completely fell off, and the school year ended, however...even with just two jobs (instead of FOUR!), I have averaged only 1 day off per 2 weeks...when I would then concentrate on sending more resumes out in Miami.  There was even a stretch in April and May where I had only 1 day off in an entire month.  Usually the only time off I have had has been the days requested off to go see my boyfriend in Miami.  

And so yesterday it occurred to me that I haven't been happy.  Well, actually I can't say that.  Its been so nice to see my parents everyday (well...I average between 3-5 double shifts a week, so...its nice to see them WHEN I actually see them).  There is a ceiling to my happiness.  I am as happy as I can possibly be when I work for $8-$10 an hour often 70 hours a week.  Let me rephrase again-I am kind of a workaholic, I would happily work that many hours if it was doing something I loved.  For the moment, I am as happy as I can possibly be maintaining as genuine of a smile as I can muster when apologizing to a morbidly obese woman who complains that her iced decaf quad grande 2 pump vanilla whole milk lite ice extra whipped cream extra caramel drizzle added chocolate drizzle caramel latte has too much ice and not enough whipped cream and wonders if perhaps YOU "are the reason why Starbucks is closing 600 stores."  

And you can imagine how those FAT paychecks are really BUILDING up my savings to move to Miami.  It is really hard to believe that you can work so many hours and barely be able to cover your monthly student loan, car, cell, insurance, storage, credit card(s), etc. etc. etc. payments.  In effect, that is why I am still here, in Maryland, writing this post from my mom's back yard.  Hooray for wi-fi.

The "final" plan is to move to Miami on August 21st.  Enough is enough.  I still don't have a photo job lined up.  But I may have yet another non-photo related opportunity for me at the Bare Escentuals that is opening up in Miami in mid-Sept (oh boy! More swirling, tapping, and buffing!).  Then maybe I'll be able to pull some weddings.  Besides that, this time moving SEEMS more concrete than it has in the past if nothing else due to my June 29th purchase of an AutoTrain ticket (I lease my car and gas is expensive).  AND I have put my notice of resignation for both jobs to go into effect on August 16th.  Those are the biggest steps in the Miami direction I have been able to make thus far, so here's hoping that THIS TIME it will actually happen.  Either way, I'll still probably be unemployed come the second half of August.  God help me.

More stuff that will actually be entertaining next time.