Seriously, is it just me or...

A couple things:

One: Hello! I've missed you too. 

Two: Though the following takes a light tone, I really do want to know your thoughts. Am I expecting special treatment? Somewhat, yes. But am I asking too much? Comment, share, discuss, please.

Background: Today is my friend Christina's birthday. Christina is one of the most gracious, loving, and fun people I have ever met. You may remember last year, we celebrated her birthday thusly. This year, we repeated it. 

Star Trek in the Park at the Bagdad (or whatever its formal name is) was much more popular this year. Parking on SE Hawthorne Blvd was harder to find. (And yes, til midnight, we had fun). I explained the events post-midnight in the following email to a friend:




"So, Christina recommended that I bring my handicapped placard last night for easier parking. Hooray! 


Then we found an open handicapped spot in the Bank of America parking lot. After hours. Sunday. Hooray!

Then Christina's car got towed. 

Then Christina was nice to the tow company lady. 

Then I got on the phone with the tow company lady, and she told me "The fact that you're handicapped doesn't give you the right to trespass on personal property." 

Then I was not so nice to the tow company lady. 

Then I asked the tow company lady for the number of a cab company. Because, as I told the tow company lady, "It's not like I can walk home. I might trespass."

Then I got us a cab to my house, went to Christina's house, waited for her to get her title at home, drove out to a creepy tow lot all the way in the Pearl, and waited and felt guilty while she paid $240 (that's two hundred and forty dollars) to get her car out of the impound lot.

I fell asleep at 2 am. My alarm went off at 6:30. I got out of bed at 7:30. I am tired."


Is the tow company lady right? Am I expecting too much special treatment? 


Yes, it was a bank parking lot. 


Yes, there was a sign stating that the lot was patrolled by Retriever Towing. 


Yes. we parked in a handicapped spot, with a legal handicapped placard. 


Yes, I have parked in handicapped spots, brandishing my handicapped placard, in front of similar signs and have never been towed. 


The bank was closed. We did not loiter. We parked at approximately 5:40 pm, Sunday. 


Is that worth $240? Should the fact that it is a handicapped space give me some grace, or were we wrong for parking in a business lot? 


Please, very seriously, have at it in the comments. 

I have/haven't forgotten.

Hey, look at that--I have a blog.

It will eventually be live again, hopefully soon.

Ps. 5-hour energy makes me hot. Apparently this is normal, and is called "niacin flush". How creepy is that?

STOP.

Stop. Sometimes I just have to tell myself to stop it.

Heather, stop it.

Life is good right now. It's getting a little better with each step. So, Heather, let's stop looking backwards, however lovely the view; let's stop picking scabs. It's not moving on. It's moving, and not spinning.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Don't beat yourself to death over it, but stop all the same.

I'm going to bed--I just wanted to commit that somewhere. Sometimes it helps to talk to myself in the third person--or I pretend it does.

A proper blog is coming soon--probably something about music.

Life is good, and getting better. It's always grace.

Working is weird.

So, I'm not sure if you all heard, but I have this job now...

I know. Awesome. Don't be jealous, though, because I spent over a year being jealous of people with jobs, and it did nothing but give me heartburn.

(And for the many of you who have asked, I'm not talking super openly about the job online not because it's a secret, but because I haven't seen many other people talking about the company online, and I don't want to breach protocol this early in the game.)

I can tell you this much: I am now working in downtown Portland for a large company (one that doesn't feel as large as it is) that's corporate, even though most people assume it's non-profit.

I really like it.

I think I'll do really well (I keep hearing Annie in my head, singing "I think I'm gonna like it here...")

Everyone's been really, really friendly and fun.

All that being said, it's some serious culture shock, for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is kind of easy and silly, but it's culture shock nonetheless. Robin and I planned to meet up for happy hour at the end of my first day, and since we were still there later, Eric came and met us (side note: My friend texted to ask how the day went, and when I replied "I am at happy hour with Eric and Robin" my heart got super-happy, because it's so rare that I get to say something like that, and those two are my absolute favorites. Aww.)

So, talking with Robin and Eric. both of whom have been employed downtown for years now, I realized that making these culture-shock statements made me sound ridiculous, like a four year old. Or an alien.

Happy hour stretched late, as it tends to do, and when Robin said, "Wow, it's 9 already," I responded, "Oh, my gosh, I have to go home and go to bed! Like, soon! And then.... I have to wake up and do it all over again!"

This, as I have since been reminded, is called having a job. But when I've been in school and unemployed and even working wacky part-time jobs, the standard 8-5 job has been hard to come by. Falling into that routine feels very awkward. And me and mornings fight, but the struggle hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be--presumably because there is the promise of a paycheck attached to this one.

Second culture-shock, being a confirmed Eastside Portland resident: Downtown is like a whole different city. It's still Portland, to be sure, and is definitely more laid back than other cities, but wow. Lots of pumps and suits and ties and things running around, and you practically never see that on this side. Luckily for me, my office is 'business casual' (also a new concept for me--finding cardigans turned into a huge quest), and tends to lean ever so slightly more in the casual direction. But the days in pajama pants? Those are called "Saturdays" now. Maybe.

So the downtown-ness is new, and the corporate angle is going to take some getting used to. But the office as a whole has such a positive, energized vibe to it, and the people are warm, and passionate about the work.

So, after months of feeling like I was floating endlessly, no horizon in sight, it's looking like God led me to exactly the shore I needed. Losing the sea legs will take a while, but the sand feels lovely under my feet.

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I have good news!

i am employed. 


For the first time in the past 13 months, I am employed.

And the job is a good one. The interview process started back in April (!), and they extended an offer to me today.

I'm not used to the idea of being employed. I keep forgetting for a moment, and then remembering, "Hey, you know that pit in your stomach over not having a job? You don't need that anymore."

And that pit is well-seated. When I was on the phone with the woman who offered me the job today, before she made the offer, I actually pictured myself getting out of the car and throwing up if I heard a no.

I am out of antacids.

I almost feel like I don't know how to take good news, how not to worry incessantly. The offer is pending the results of the background check, and even though there's nothing in my history, I'm still paranoid. What if they don't like your credit score?, the little voice of negativity in my head says.

But, in less than two weeks, I will be working at a good job. I will have much less time on my hands, and will remain grateful for all those friends and family who supported me over the last 13 months, during many of which I know I was less than a joy to be around.

I don't know what will happen with this blog. Largely because of the interview process, a short "blog vacation" turned long, and I know I won't post as regularly as I have. I can promise one thing: this blog will not become a space for me to complain about my job. I think I'll love it, in fact, but there will always be little things that you wish were different. I won't air dirty laundry or bemoan my employed fate here.

For now, I have to try to develop a normal sleep schedule, and I have to start remembering that words like "weekend" and "weekday" have actual meanings.

Because, hey, I've got a job.

A links roundup

I haven't forgotten about this blog, but I did need somewhat of a break. I have posts in mind, though, and may even post a second one before today is out.

This week, though, apart from the bizarre stress I've experienced (more on that in a minute) I've found a bunch of fascinating stuff via our buddy and enemy the internet. And since I'm now baffled as to how my Twitter page updates my Facebook without ever changing my status, I figured I would root the links and stuff here. David Bowie's playing...here you go (mostly in reverse order of discovery):


I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO READ ALL OF THESE. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you do read. 

Wal-Mart is coming to Cornelius, people are excited. Seriously, read it before you protest (and I don't like Wal-Mart either.) (KATU News).

Dehumanizing comes easy. The death of porn stars becomes too many punchlines. I love Salon--their articles are consistently--and simply--excellent (Salon.com) .

"I'm spiritual but not religious." Interesting discussion on what that statement means... it would be a great group discussion over wine and cheese, I think (hint, hint). and as I said on Facebook, I don't consider myself religious, either. But is it an issue of semantics? (CNN)

The World Food Programme makes helping ease hunger simple. The website is also fascinating

,.. and I discovered that Free Rice, benefiting the WFP, will let you practice your vocabulary in English, Spanish, French, German and Italian, or your knowledge of math, art, or the periodic table, all while donating food. Incredible.

Amazingly, the same newspaper has been used in movies and television for years. Literally--it's one paper. (@culturepulp, a.k.a. Mike Russell)

This is the best news report I have ever seen. You will laugh. I promise. (YouTube)

And, in what I hope will become a tradition of sorts, my favorite text messages from the past week. No names, no context, to protect the innocent:

Are you? Chasing a carrot on a stick? If so, stop. They have carrots available at the store--no chasing required. 


Well, don't get too excited. You might pee yourself, and that would be gross. 


People are great.