I'm learning.

I just read Mary Clare's blog and realized I'm not very good at this yet. But I will learn. Am I supposed to be entertaining? Who am I entertaining? Why do they want to read about me? Will they stalk me? Hmm. I'm learning, dammit.

Mom & Magda

My mom came to visit this weekend, and she brought along my 9 year old sister. Well, 9 and a half, because fractions are important when you're 9 (and a half). We played the tourist game and went to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, of which only the latter I would return to. The statue was pretty impressive, I must say, but after an hour of craning my neck to see her big old book and pretty gold torch, I was done. Basically after you've done the audio tour, paid a quarter to look into those telescope things to see Manhattan up close, and taken all the pictures you can imitating Ol' Lady Liberty herself, there's not much to do but stand in line for hours waiting for overpriced, greasy food and then sit down at an outdoor food court where overly tame pigeons and seagulls grapple for the fries in your hand. Bleh.

Ellis Island was pretty damn depressing, I must say, but I'd go back. Around every corner you'd read quotes and hear the voices of the immigrants reminding you that, "We had nothing, I had nothing, there was nothing, I left everything behind." So I could understand how my sister wanted to play her Nintendo DS (for those non-tweens out there, this is the modern day equivalent to a Gameboy) instead of reading about the torturous medical examinations and the screaming babies and the inability to understand anyone around you. But the building is beautiful and the photographs and recordings and artifacts are pretty cool. There's a wall outside with the names of people who came over, and although we knew that no one in our family had paid any funding for our name to be put on, we did in fact find our family name (maybe they're long lost cousins). Then my mother realized that her grandfather had already been in the U.S. for a few years without having gone through Ellis Island, and probably could afford to buy his wife and her sister first class tickets, so basically no one in my family went through Ellis Island anyway. Still, we found "The Geisinger Family" and pretended that we had a historical connection. And I realized I really like the name Geisinger and maybe I'll use it for something down the line, like when I'm not rich and famous but I just need to give some creepy guy a fake name or sign up for something online that I don't want to get spammed with in the future.

We also went to Coney Island on Saturday, which I've done a bunch of times by now, but my sister wanted to ride the Cyclone and my mom wanted to sit on the beach. I got a lovely little tan, and I escaped without going on the dreaded roller coaster. I basically started hyperventilating as we approached it, and it's a damn good thing I didn't go because my mom said it was horrible and bumpy and painful and awful. The next day, she talked to her mother (my grandmother) about the trip, who said that HER mother (my great-grandmother, the Geisinger who probably did not come through Ellis Island) had ridden the thing in the '30s and hated it. So I didn't feel bad about not going on, since my great-grandmother had been conned into riding it when it was new and had a horrible, traumatic experience. Maybe her spirit was conjured up during our Ellis trip and she decided to look out for me for a day and say, "Hell no, don't go." Thanks, Magda. You're a champ.

Scrambling

I am absolutely scrambling to become a seasoned blogger. It's tough. But apparently it will pay off eventually. I don't write very often anymore, which is a sad, sad thing. I used to write ridiculous stories all day, every day, and very few of them (if any) I actually finished. Once the pen gave way to the computer, I would pour out my soul onto a computer screen. Now I'm uninspired. I can't think of anything creative anymore, so I can't write, so I can't do shit, can I? So maybe this blog thing will help me to get back into the swing of things. Maybe.

I guess I'll start with my morning. I decided to put The Band on shuffle. Brilliant idea, especially since I (finally) just finished my book (Carson McCullers, The Member of the Wedding), which took me far too long to finish. More on that later. I started off with "Up on Cripple Creek," then "Rocking Chair" just before the train came, then filtered through all the albums a bit, hitting "The Weight," of course, along with "Ophelia" and some other up-tempo ones. Then once I got to Union Square the song landed on "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," which was perfect for getting me hyped up for work. I think I need to pick up the guitar again and start singing some of these old songs I love.

I worked really hard on the guitar for a few weeks after a lesson with a friend, playing old songs like "Don't Come Home A'Drinkin'" by Loretta Lynn and "Cold Cold Heart" by Hank Williams. Great stuff. I am such a redneck at heart. What the hell am I doing in New York City? Anyway, I really failed after a few weeks and haven't picked up the guitar in months. I'm going to get back to it and it's going to be glorious. You just wait and see. Unfortunately I doubt I'll ever get to the point where I can play in front of people while singing. So maybe don't wait and see...

I've decided that this fall, there are going to be changes. Save more money, play more guitar, get a voice lesson or two, join a gym, take a ballet class, apply for other jobs, apply for grad school, figure out what the hell to do with my life. We'll see what I actually accomplish.

This job is killing me. It's just one frustration after another. I still have time to sit and do nothing, which is absolutely ridiculous, but then sometimes I have a huge amount of research to do and I can't have anyone bother me. But I need deadlines on big projects, not huge, open-ended assignments. And I don't need these teeny-tiny stupid assignments which take me 2 minutes and make me want to cry. And I don't need a boss who talks to me about inane things simply because there's no one else around to bother. Ugh. I think my 10 months in this place has drained my creativity. Hence why I need to get back to doing creative things on the side.

I wanted to take a pottery class last year so I could make cheap Christmas gifts. I didn't do it. Should I now? I keep thinking there will come a time when I have more time, more money. And then I realize that time will never come. Because maybe I'll get a job where I'm more occupied, and yes, I'll have more money. But then I'll have to go back to school, and I won't have any time or money. Then I'll get another job. And then the boyfriend will be in medical school and he'll have time for absolutely nothing, and I'll get a dog to keep me company...if I have time. And then we'll get married and have kids and have no time for anything, ever again. Wait a second. This is thinking way too far in advance. Disgusting. But basically, I have time now, I have no money, but I'm young. So fuck it, I'll just play some more guitar and try to enjoy life.

Inspiration?

Having been re-inspired to take part in this new-fangled technological phenomenon called "blogging," I am now wasting precious time at the office to write this. Instead of writing I could be doing things I normally do at work, which include:

1. Conversing on Gmail Chat with people I see/talk to every day, some of whom are mere steps from my desk.
2. Reading the terrible, terrible Metro or AM New York newspapers.
3. Browsing the New York Times and trying desperately to pretend that I am up to date on current events and celebrity gossip, though I'm not even sure who the "ennifer" part of "Bennifer" is.
4. Eating.
5. Ignoring my boss. Oh wait! That's exactly what I'm doing. Weird.
6. Sudoku...though the "easy" ones regularly take me a half hour at minimum to complete.
7. Working. HAH.

Here I am watching my blackberries get moldy (6th Avenue fruit man, I WILL have my revenge), trying desperately to feign an interest in anthing remotely close to my job, and tearing myself away from the newly discovered blog, "What Claudia Wore."

Lunchtime is my only escape, and luckily I get to chat it up for an hour with some lovely young ladies around who are just as bored and frustrated as I am. Somehow the Babysitters Club came up yesterday, and we decided that it was awesome and we are in love with it and are creating a new BSC at the lunch table. I am Dawn...which is no surprise to anyone who knows me. But I'm also a huge fan of Claudia's wardrobe and her addiction to junk food. Unfortunately, I'm not an artsy Japanese girl with crazy clothing...in fact, none of us are, so I think Claudia will just be a ghost for a while until we have more diversity at the office. Anyway, I learned about this blog, am now a giant ridiculous fan, and that's that. I have to get back to reading it.

Now my boss is on speaker phone with his wife and I can very cleary hear her strong Queens accent which is absolutely stifling to my creativity. This is the signal to read someone else's mindless blather. Claudia, here I come...

Begin blogging sequence in 3...2...1...

This is all very new to me. Let's see how this thing works...