Don't Hate Me 'Cause I'm Indie and You're Punk

Good Girls Don't Wear Sequins

Ok, now that we've gotten all that talk about FEEEELINGS out of the way, let's have some Real Talk about the awesome shit that comes with being a BiSC attendee. This (maybe not so) flattering picture of me was taken by my roommate/favorite person Dominique in our fancy Flamingo Go Room which had a MOTHEREFFING tv in our bathroom mirror. Guys, I don't have cable (YEAH, I SAID IT. LOOK, I WAS RAISED WITHOUT TV SO YOU CAN GO SIT IN THE CORNER AND JUDGE MY PRETENSION WHILE I JUDGE YOU WATCHING DANCE MOMS AND WE CAN ALL BE HAPPY WITH OUR JUDGE-Y LIFE DECISIONS). I don't even know what to do with a tv in the bathroom mirror, we turned it on once while we were doing our makeup, it was confusing. See also: comfiest beds ever and multi nozel shower.

WARNING: The Go Rooms and the regular hotel rooms at the Flamingo are really not the same. I stayed in one of the regular ones in January and it was actually kind of more like Motel 6 quality. So don't go booking hotel rooms at the Flamingo and come bitching at me because you got the cheap option.

At the bottom of the bed is my giant pile of SWAG. Missing from the giant pile of swag: the free drink by the pool coupon sponsored by GelaSkins. It's missing because that wristband means I just came back from the crazy Flamingo Go Pool. Which is the adult pool. (No, not THAT KIND of adult pool) As in the pool where the booze is. And the fancy VIP day beds. And the waterfall to swim under and then end up in a nifty grotto. Also, where we played never have I ever for toys from Babeland. Are you wondering how things could get more ridiculawesome? So was I at this point. Pool day already seemed like the best day of my life but then IT GOT BETTER.

One word: ZUMANITY. Sexy Cirque du Soleil. Hilarious and amazing and naked. Also incredibly disturbing. Well, only the crazy contortionist that kept popping things out of sockets and shit was disturbing. I actually had to cover my eyes. Then dancing, dancing, dancing. Happiest when dancing in sequins and 4 inch heels. Until I'm tired of the heels and have to switch to sandals. Whatever. Happiest when dancing in sequins.

Wait, did I say happiest when dancing in sequins? I might've meant happiest when wearing sequins and eating waffle fry pulled pork nacho... I don't even know how to describe these, but Sara and I managed to start a trend that apparently had like 40 people eating these piles of amazingness the next night. Seriously, what is happening here? Why did we each order our own plate? This is insanity. Also, this is 3am.

HI, now it's time for sleeping.

In case you are unaware, breakfast is my favorite meal. by which I mean, breakfast foods are my favorite because I almost never eat breakfast. So buffet time on Saturday where I got to eat bacon, sausage, french toast, waffles and potatoes was pretty much my idea of heaven. I may've also made it boozy thanks to mini bottles of Skyy. The only thing better than regular brunch is boozy brunch.

The next epic adventure was to the roller coaster on top of New York New York that Alberto insisted did not exist (SPOILER: it exists) but for some reason agreed to join Dominique, Kelly and me in walking to the other end of the strip to go on it. Or to prove us wrong. I 67% think he was hoping to prove us wrong. I really love roller coasters, but also am unable to keep my eyes open on roller coasters which probably defeats the purpose of going on a roller coaster on top of a hotel. BUT WHATEVER, I went on a roller coaster on top of a hotel because that's the kind of shit you do in Vegas right before you play Pac-Man battle royale and the world's biggest version of fruit ninja. Clearly I chose the right group for the afternoon. For those of you playing along at home, at this point I have gone multiple hours without booze in Vegas, a situation I find mildly intolerable because apparently I'm really easily over stimulated which doesn't mix with Vegas without alcohol. BUT DON'T WORRY.

Thankfully Minus 5 ice bar had us covered for the afternoon. Sadly we weren't allowed to take any electronics in or I'd have fifty million pictures and have tweeted so many clever things. Or just talked a lot about how one of the rooms made me feel like I was in Narnia because of the trees etched into the ice. Did I mention that everything was made of ice? And have I ever mentioned my lifelong goal of staying in an ice hotel? This did not lessen my desire to stay in an ice hotel. We had our picture taken in a giant ice throne so that we could yell "King in the North!" but it turns out most people sit in the giant ice throne to get a picture with the Vegas sign because when we came out the woman was all "oh, you have the picture in front of the Vegas sign" and we were like "what are you talking about, lady?" because we thought we took our picture on the ice throne and are possibly too nerdy AWESOME to notice Vegas signs . Oh well.

(Side note: I'm kneeling in a really short skirt in an ice room because I was sitting the same way as Alberto and Kelly and the photographer said "You need to sit in a more flattering position, can you kneel?". And I wanted to say "Whoa dude, just how badly do you think I want this photo?" but I hadn't finished my second margarita so I wasn't feeling quite that sassy yet.

Post side note: the drinks, which were served in ice cups, rocked my socks)

More buffet. More eating all the Le Bon Garçon caramels in my gift bag. Then slowly getting ready for the Mad Men party. Where, you know, NBD, we just skipped a giant line to get into Chateau, the club on the roof of the Paris hotel from which you can see the Bellagio fountains go off. It was only so awesome that we all had to take a minute to tweet/facebook/foursquare/etc about it. That's all.

I mean, how adorable is everyone in their 60s duds, on their phones? It's pretty great. Anachronism win. Cue more dancing. Have I mentioned that I like dancing? No, really, I really like dancing. I need to go dancing more (at all) in New York now that I work normal people hours. Who wants to be my dancing buddy? Let's just go ahead and assume this girl does.
Yes, this is kind of an awful picture because it was dark and we were using the front facing camera, but I don't even care. And now we've reached the point where this post is just going to devolve into pictures. You're welcome.

Alana Goes to Boston, Part 2

So probably one of the reasons Sarah is my soul mate is because she says things like "OH! We have to go to my favorite socialist bar, you'll love it!". Sadly we were too tired to actually go into her favorite socialist bar on Saturday night, but we did walk by and it's definitely on my next time I visit list. Yeah, that's right, two Irish Jew girls are going to go chill out at the socialist bar in their Banana Republic heavy wardrobes. That's just how we roll. Probably because when we were in high school Sarah said something like "all my dad's side of the family went to socialist Jewish Summer camps" and without batting an eye I was like "Yeah, my great grandfather told off McCarthy" and then we were inseparable.

Anyways...

Right. Recapping Boston.

Sunday we had AMAZING brunch with possibly the most pretentious person I have ever met. He spent an inordinately long amount of time talking about grad school and the tax law related research he was doing and then turned to me and said "So what do you do?".

"I'm a baker"

And I wish I had a camera to capture the look on his face. The only response he could come up with was "oh" and it was kind of like he had discovered some brand new species and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Most of the time telling somebody my profession garners responses more along the lines of "Can you make...", "I have a brother/uncle/sisterwife that's a pastry chef at..." or "That's so awesome". That was the first time anyone had seem dumbfounded that they had met a real life baker. But the guy did have fruit, ricotta and honey for breakfast while Sarah and I were eating pesto, chevre, bacon and egg sandwich goodness, so really, what can you expect?

Plus side: Free meal, because obviously, us ladies couldn't be allowed to pay. Whatevs. I'll take it.

After breakfast I learned that the Harvard Natural History Museum is crazy. There's just stuffed animals and skeletons everywhere. I'm entirely unclear about the organizational logic. I guess most of the time when Sarah brings people there they get really disturbed because it's so many dead animals in such a small space so she was really excited to be able to explore farther due to my exceptional looking at dead animals stamina. Yeah, It's basically like if all of AMNH was stuffed into three small rooms and some hallways. But with less dinosaur bones and a bigger Lestodon. At least I think it was bigger, I can't actually back that up for sure.

I mean there's just an elephant head stuck on top of a case of unrelated skeletons. What? Who's in charge of curating this craziness?

Sunday afternoon was dedicated to walking through Boston commons and downtown Boston. Also to choosing things for the other person to try on at H&M. This isn't at all travel related but it did lead to a lot of jumper and skorts outfits. They were pretty terrible. It was fun.

Home for siesta, which is probably another reason I love Sarah- we had afternoon chilling out and reading time each day.

Sunday evening I went to a party where I met a bunch of her friends who all had much more normal reactions to "I'm a baker," though a surprising number of them had never met a baker before. This seems really weird to me, but I do spend almost all my time around other food service people, so that might have something to do with it. Also, I'm pretty sure I consumed an entire bottle of two buck chuck by myself. It's been a while. Does that stuff actually have alcohol in it? I'm not really sure it does, because normally when I consume an entire bottle of wine I am a) fairly drunk and b) hungover the next day and neither of those was true.

And I will save accidentally walking into historical reenactments for Part 3, because I need to go be irresponsible and possibly pull yet another all nighter now.

 

Alana Goes to Boston, Part 1

I knew my trip to Boston was going to be good when I sent my friend Sarah this picture asking if we could go to the bakery this cookbook is from and she replied "It's already on the itinerary". Yes, there was an itinerary, but not the scary kind with exact time and boring historical sites, but the awesome kind full of things we should try to get to if we feel like it.

It started Friday with dinner at a restaurant called "North by NorthEast" which did seasonal North East and Asian fusion. I was pretty skeptical at first. Fusion is a trend that's gotten a little out of hand and is often done pretty poorly these days, but the food was AMAZING. Just really really fantastic. Did you think you could use rhubarb in asian cuisine? I sure didn't, but they did and it rocked my world. Definitely a step up from the Roy Roger's french fries I had at the rest stop on my way to Boston.

(Sidenote: First time I'd ever been in a Roy Roger's. They have ads for them on tv in CA, but I'm pretty sure they don't exist West of the mississippi, it's confusing)

Saturday I slept all the way until 8am which is actually sleeping in five and a half hours for me, which is really really disturbing. Sarah woke up early too, so we hit up Flour where I had a perfectly flaky and moist croissant, she had an ooey gooey sticky bun and we took a couple of pastries for the road. Of course our logical next stop was Harpoon Brewery where the first tour is at 10:30 am and the first tasting they give you is promptly at 10:30am. It's a fun, informational tour with unlimited tasting for a bit after the tour is over and well worth the $5. I'm 100% certain I drank more than $5 worth of beer AND you get to keep your tasting cup.

Next we discovered that the Institute of Contemporary Art is pretty awesome when you're tipsy. Piles of record slipcovers as a statement about society? Sure, why not? Tipsy me is a lot more tolerant about modern art than sober me. Also, I love records and miss mine so I was inclined to give the whole exhibit around vinyl the benefit of the doubt. I'm also pretty fond of Shepard Fairey and the ICA has a really cool multimedia room that hangs over the water so overall it's a pretty swell museum.

Going on right next to the ICA was an "Extreme Sailing Competition". Not being Bostonians with the privilege of free sailing lessons when we were underage, Sarah and I had no fucking idea what that meant but were totally game to observe. As far as we could tell it was people sailing around buoys along some sort of course? Mostly we just decided it was time to sit for a while and eat our remaining pastries. I'm pretty sure this is also the point in the day when I really got horrifically sunburned. SPF 30 is just not strong enough, I have no idea what I was thinking. Maybe too many summers in foggy Northern California have made me forget the actual strength of the sun. Or maybe I'm an idiot. Either way I've now got some pretty ridiculous tan lines.

I would like to point out that so far we've gotten to 1ish on the first day of my trip. Yeah, we made that itinerary our bitch.

Next stop: KO meat pies, where Sarah and I learn that Australian meat pies are delicious and will keep you full for the rest of your life.

Then it was time for a walk through the North End on our way home to siesta, because seriously, that is a lot of shit to get done before 3pm on a Saturday.

Saturday evening is when I realized that food service professional are maybe not normal people. Since pretty much all of my friends here work in food service I kind of forgot that not everybody swears constantly, drinks like a fish and generally ignores their body's need for sleep. I partially blame Michelle because she has an office job and still does these things, reinforcing my idea that this is normal. Believe it or not, I am actually quite good at modifying my language to suit the situation. However, I am not good at modifying my drinking habits apparently. In the time that Sarah and her friends finished nursing one drink, I finished two and I felt like I was drinking the SLOWEST EVER IN MY LIFE. And then we went to bed. True Story. Really. I only drank two drinks and was asleep by 11 on a Saturday. It's basically like I was replaced by an alien.

Sunday and Monday really deserve their own post mostly because we had a brunch with somebody from high school that was so amazingly awkward it really needs to not be glossed over and Monday we accidentally stumbled into a historical reenactment. If that doesn't make you want to come back and read more, I don't know what will.

Summertime and the living is easy

Things I've learned while busy not blogging:

• I would rather work a ten hour busy work day than a six hour slow one
• There is only so much sleep I can sacrifice for social life and only so much social life I can sacrifice for sleep.
• It's better to come home to a room that looks like you live in it than one with empty walls and half filled boxes.
• Gin is best enjoyed with cucumber juice and basil simple syrup. Mint simple syrup will work too.
• Funsies hookups as opposed to realsies dating totally has its time and place but I should check how many trains it's going to take me to get home in the morning.
• Being single allows for a lot of free time, friend time and stress free thinking. Who knew?
• I have a serious polka dot addiction. No really.
• Getting paid to do something you love is awesome. Getting appreciated daily by your employers on top of that is even awesomer.
• Red wine hangovers only rival whiskey hangovers in brutality.
• I shouldn't sleep with people I had feelings for, because I might realize I still think they're adorable, so... fuck.
• It's great living somewhere where it's hot enough all Summer to actually wear my Summer dresses. It sucks to have to shave that often though.
• I can work the crazy early morning bakers' hours I've always avoided and not hate it.
• I have a life here. And it kind of FUCKING ROCKS.

Give me a lake that I can dive into

I gave two weeks notice yesterday. It was bittersweet. I really love Stellina/Sorella but I just straight up don't get paid enough money and it's not busy enough yet for me to actually ever work a whole 40 hours in a week. I'd like to say I could wait it out, see if business picks up, but I can't afford it. And I've done this before. I'm basically a master at working for struggling small businesses. I work my ass off for too little money until I get frustrated and burned out. So Stellina and I are breaking up before we start hating each other.

Will I still be found there eating breakfast sandwiches on housemade english muffins, salted caramel gelato and distracting my coworkers that have become some really awesome friends after my two weeks are up? Hells yes. I really love the people there. I really love the broccoli at Sorella. I really love the bar. (Seriously, Sorella has a fantastic bar) But it just makes more sense for me from a budget and career stand point to move on.

Soon you'll be able to find sweet treats made by me at Abraco, a little tiny, hole in the wall coffee shop that is super into local, seasonal and organic products and where the pastries are a little more in line with my obviously hella NorCal palette. I'll be getting paid (a little) more there, have a solid forty to work a week and have input into the daily changing menu. The one downside is that I'll be baking over night but I don't think my anxiety and insomnia will get as bad as working overnights last year made them because I'll only be working eight hour shifts, won't be going to school on my days off and won't be working with teenage drug addicts. I think I am capable of making choices that will allow me to be healthy with a vampire's schedule.

I'm really trying to work on making those choices now in preparation. I'm down to one cup of coffee a day, down to 0-1 alcoholic beverages a day and have managed to get myself on a regular sleep schedule that allows 7-8 hours of sleep a night. Of course I've also pretty much just been working, sleeping and writing, but sometimes you have to strip your life down to be able to rebuild it into something sturdier. I'm working on getting myself back into the routine of morning and nightly sun salutations and maybe soon I'll add running into my schedule. My urges to go running usually only last about two weeks before I remember I hate running, so no guarantees on that one. Also my knees hate me right now. I finally stop going up and down stairs every fifteen minutes for those bed checks at the group home and instead go up and downstairs carrying sheet trays and 50# sugar sacks. Ugh.

Surprisingly, you know what has been helping me work on finding the middle way instead of going to my usual extremes? I have no man in my life. I have no potential man in my life. I have so much time! I have so much free mental energy that's normally spent thinking of cute and/or witty texts to send, or worrying about the future or thinking about dinner or wondering what's going to go wrong or when we both have time for a date night, it's amazing. Why did nobody tell me how relaxing and freeing it could be to break my endless cycle of codependency? Oh right, my mother did. Good job on knowing things, Mom! I mean, I'm still me, so you probably shouldn't take me too seriously when I say I have no intention of dating somebody any time soon, but y'know, that's my intention, we'll see if it happens.

Other intentions:

• Buy real furniture (obvs. by "real" I mean "IKEA/not decoupaged boxes") once I get a little more money coming in
• Figure out what I want my room to look like. I have no idea, I think maybe because it's painted in a color palette that is so far removed from my own I can't even figure out what goes with it
• Yoga! Maybe Ballet!
• That's it! Stick with making healthy(ish) choices and not overwhelming myself. I'm so much more comfortable in chaos than when everything is ok and I need that to change. (Sometimes I don't think I could be more of a stereotype of a child of addicts- OH MY GOD PLEASE GIVE ME SOMETHING/SOMEONE TO FIX)

Oh! Also I had an interview today for a possible super part time second job at a store that specializes in selling California wine. True story. What's a California girl to do in New York other than try to convert the heathens to our awesome ways through pastry and wine? Is it so much to ask that everything be farm to table and for things to be open until 4am? I really need San Francisco and New York to combine into one city.

Things That Remind Me I'm on the Other Side of the Country, Part 2

Time for some things in the negative column:

1. Humidity. The weather + walking to the Grand St station actually made me feel like I was in a different country today. Which is kind of awesome, except I do not see any beautiful Thai beaches around here to go with the humidity. So fuck you humidity. Because I need a haircut and you're making it worse by making my hair try to be all curly and shit. Also by the time I get to work at 8AM I feel like I should've taken 5 showers already and I know, I know, it only gets worse as it turns into Summer. Also, it's confusing when I look outside and it looks all stormy and then I look at the weather report and it's all, "hey, it's already 75 degrees today!" and I'm still working on getting into my head that grey skies don't equal cold so I've finally convinced myself it's ok to leave the house in just a cardigan even if it looks stormy but really I should be wearing shorts and a tank top. Except I don't wear shorts, which begs the question, what the hell am I going to wear in the Summer? I like dresses a lot, but I have a finite number and dresses aren't really kitchen safe, so I'm going to assume that I'm going to sweat off like 15 pounds this Summer which I guess is good because once it starts cooling off my body will probably want to eat lots of fatty things in preparation for the cold cold oh my god cold winter. So maybe the humidity is awesome. Size 2 by August! (not really, I kind of look skeletal at a size 2, but maybe because I'm a girl and secretly I think I look awesome then).

2. Bread. OH MY GOD I JUST WANT SOME SOURDOUGH TOAST WITH MY EGGS PLEASE, WHERE IS MY SOURDOUGH? HOW IS THAT NOT AN OPTION? WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE EAT YOUR BLT's ON? Yes, I know that San Francisco had a distinct sourdough because there is actually a strain of yeast that runs from Alaska to Baja with the highest concentration in San Francisco so sourdough couldn't actually taste the same but there is still yeast in the air here. And some of the flavor could be mimicked by keeping the starter at a warmer temperature and feeding it a higher water to flour ratio which is largely what contributes to the sharper more acetic San Francisco sourdough flavor as opposed to say a creamy Parisian sourdough. Anyways, sourdough bread, I don't want to make my own because I don't feel like taking care of a barm right now with it's fermenty grossness that will probably get forgotten in the back of my fridge, so somebody get on that.

3. Coffee. Coffee here is shitty. True story. I have pretty good coffee at my work. And soon you'll be able to find my skills put to use making pastry here, so I have high hopes their coffee will also be tasty (one of the owners spent time at the holy grail of all coffee shops, Blue Bottle and the chef is from the bay area, so you know).  But it's not like the bay area where even up in Santa Rosa, there's a different local roaster every few blocks and if you ask for a cappuccino it's only made in small sizes, with whole milk and perfect wet foam... I think most people just drink shitty diner coffee or shitty coffee cart coffee (both of which also had their time in the plus column) and don't really care. Blech.

4. Bakeries. Bakeries mostly seem to be of the generic American or Italian pursuasion with cakes that look like the frosting is made of Sweetex, Sweetex and oh, hey, more Sweetex, huge, overly sweet, flavorless Black and White cookies and fruit tarts thick with so much apricot glaze you wonder if the fruit underneath is real. New Yorkers have yet to embrace the, in California, totally overused word "artisan" and all the tastiness that accompanies its pretension.

That is all for now. All of that being said, I'm still happy to be here. More general life/work/love posts soon (or rather life/work/I still think boys are stupid posts).

Things That Remind Me I'm on the Other Side of the Country, Part 1

So here's the thing New York, this thing you call a beautiful Spring... In Northern California we call this Winter, also Spring and Fall. I mean, I can understand after months of freezing snow and no trash being picked up, this alternation between warm enough to sit on the roof, read and get sunburned and 60s and pouring rain must seem pretty awesome, because at least there's not snow, but this is not actually awesome. The tulips everywhere are pretty and I've always wanted an excuse to own a trenchcoat, so I'll put some points back in the plus column for those things.

Other things going in the New York plus column right now:

1. Public transit. It goes everywhere. And it goes everywhere late at night. I mean, you might have to wait for a while, but there is at least one train line running to where you want to go. As somebody that  needed to take the M home late at night in San Francisco and also didn't live remotely near any Owl buses and was afraid of walking far in my neighborhood because I didn't want to get killed by the people dealing drugs in the middle of the street (yeah, Oceanview!), I really really love this. I double love this because:

2. Late nights. I have a tendency to not notice how late it is, because everything is still open. Ok, not everything. But restaurants, bars, drug stores, food carts, are all still open at 2am and that is awesome. Or not awesome when I realized that I can't judge time by how many people are still out and about and I actually need to be on my way to work in 4 hours. If I didn't have to open both weekend days and made a lot more money, this would basically be the best/worst thing ever. New York City clearly wants me to be an alcoholic, because if you think I can resist being able to eat $.99 pizza and drink at 3am on a regular basis, you are wrong and the fact that you can keep getting food, just makes it that much easier to keep drinking.

3. Bodegas. Not that we don't have corner stores in California, but I almost never go to them. Probably because there's real grocery stores nearby to almost everywhere but since grocery stores here mostly suck (a lot) I might as well buy things from bodegas and fruit stands because they're right there, and often cheaper. Especially the fruit stands.

4. Coffee carts. This really goes in both the plus and minus columns. Plus because when I want a $1 coffee at 7am because I know the baristas at work won't be ready to make me a cappuccino until 10, there are coffee carts to supply me with my caffeine fix. Minus because I'm pretty sure this is part of the reason New Yorkers are not coffee snobs. The coffee from coffee carts is worth the $1 you pay for it. It tastes like coffee from Denny's at 3am on a Wednesday.

5. Diners. My favorite diners at home (Rudy's Cant Fail in Emeryville, Sparky's in SF and Howard's Cafe in Occidental) aren't really true diners. I love them. A lot. But my favorite thing at Rudy's is The Tower of Power which has MorningStar Farms "sausage" patties and none of those diners can really be put in the cheap greasy spoon category. There are diners everywhere here. Real diners. $7 eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast, orange juice and crappy coffee breakfast special diners. I mean no, I don't really know how all the food was grown/raised to allow the prices to be so cheap, but if I can't have farm to table every day, I'll settle for the opposite. I really can't emphasize enough how I only know how to do extremes. (Seriously, I didn't have any home made chicken broth the other day, so I ate Top Ramen, I don't think this is how normal people operate)

Next up: Things in the minus column.

 

I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride

Ok, so I'm just going to get it out there for you to judge me. I went on a date on Friday. Yes, that's right. I moved to New York a little over a week ago, I have yet to acquire a job, but I did manage to get a date for Friday night. Are you wondering if I can go five minutes without there being a boy in the mix? Yeah? Me too. But then I remembered that the answer is "no" and stopped wondering and went back to judging myself. Glad we're all on the same page now.

Right, so... I went on a date on Friday with Mia and Grant's friend Gabriel (none of those names are real, I'm just trying to preserve continuity between my blog and Mia's blog) who I had met when I was visiting back in January, that went surprisingly well considering first dates apparently make me just go ahead and get all the crazy and awkward out at once. I mean, I guess it's really not surprising that I have no idea how to behave seeing as I've now been on a grand total of three actual adult first dates.

Oddly, I wasn't actually that nervous beforehand. I did try on half my wardrobe but that's because my box of shoes hasn't come yet and I kept putting things on and not having shoes that worked or you know, was just being a girl and suddenly decided all the clothes I own were horrible and unflattering. I finally settle on an outfit without a minute to spare because Gabriel (for the record, that is not the name I would've chosen, and I'm kind of having a hard time with it for some reason) was right on time. So I go and let him in and we have awkward greeting time in the foyer then we (awkwardly) go upstairs and I put on my shoes and grab my scarf and all that and go to say good bye (and hello, in his case) to Mia and Grant in the living room which results in us, or maybe just me, acting like a gawky fifteen year old before homecoming saying good night and don't wait up to mom and dad.

Two blocks away from the apartment and I realize I've been pretty much talking non stop. And no, I have no idea about what anymore but I do distinctly remember thinking "Oh my god, why are you still talking? You sound like a crazy person. Or really self centered. Or both. Just stop". So I decide to take a breath or five but he doesn't really say anything and now the voice in my head is all "Fuck, I've made it two blocks and I've already messed this up, how can I save this?". So, you know, I just KEEP TALKING. Why? I don't know. This somehow leads to my mentioning being raised by my grandparents and him asking if I'm close to them and me actually becoming more awkward because my family relationships are just too weird and confusing to be first date material and I was kind of trying to avoid seeming crazier. Despite all this, Gabriel does actually seem to still be interested in me. God knows why.

After getting slightly turned around and a google maps consultation we make it to the restaurant (that's right, we haven't even made it to dinner yet in this story). Even though it's only 6:30 the place is packed. We walk around searching for a table and manage to find what appear to be the last two stools in the place at this weird little side bar thingy that is poorly secured to the wall but thankfully seems well secured to the ceiling however moves every time I rest any weight on it. Also, because we're on stools, my feet dangle and I feel like a five year old. We get menus and order beers and because we're both apparently the most awkward confused people ever we let the waitress take our menus without any objection despite the fact that we haven't ordered food. Or maybe it was because we were hoping an actual table would open up and then we could order food. See? I'm still confused about what I was thinking.

So we get our beer, fumble the conversation along, eventually with a lot less pauses, and flag down our constantly disappearing waitress so that we can get a menu and order food (and more beer) to eat at our weird little side bar that doesn't seem big enough to hold plates. We actually order the same thing which I assume means we're soul mates or, that cheeseburgers are fucking delicious. I'm not sure which, but seeing as we ordered different beers, I'm going with the second option. I'd like to say I remember what we talked about, but the whole time I was distracted by these candles that were arranged in sort of cubbies (not really but this is the easiest way to explain it) in the wall in front of us in an almost but not quite symmetrical pattern. I do remember that, because I know how sexy OCD is, I explained to him that the candles were bothering me and that I compulsively moved them. And he totally went with it, which earned him +5 charisma or something or maybe means that my charisma is so awesome I can get away with doing ridiculous things (spending a lot of time by myself sure does bring out the nerdiness).

So we ate and talked and drank (though not too much on the drinking since the first time we met was the night of the four people, three six packs and a liter of gin and I wanted to know what he was like and how we got along somewhat sober) and things went along fairly well. Of course at some point the conversation did get back to my family and I did talk about it less awkwardly though I still feel like maybe not the best first date material. I mean mentioning being a child of addicts kind of is like handing out a business card that says "Alana Margaret, expert on abandonment, trust and codependency issues" but hey, at least it's giving fair warning, right? Umm, yeah. Note to self: just stick to talking about things like books or booze or anything other than family on a first date.

(Hi family! I really do love you.)

Things actually do go well and we end up holding hands and it's cute. We walk back to the apartment and he stops and kisses me on the way. The next day (look, he lives in New Jersey, he was spending the night whether or not the date went well, just maybe on the couch) I come home from my stage (free labor) to my clothes that had been left on the floor neatly folded on my bed which I basically thought was the most adorable thing ever. I think he thought I was making fun of him, but I really did think it was ridiculously cute in the best of ways.

Our next date is on Friday.

***

Also he said he liked the ballet, that Jane Austen was great and we talked about War & Peace and other Russian literature. I'm pretty sure that he had to have been exaggerating his interest in some of those things because that's just too many things that I like that nobody else likes (except Jane Austen, pretty much everyone [female] loves Jane Austen). Either way, I'm totally a sucker for awkward, sweet, nerdy boys who show up for dates wearing a tie and converse. (Hmmm, explanation for why I like Dr. Who so much?) There's some serious like going on right now.

Oh yeah, those flowers you've been seeing in pictures? Those were my housewarming/coincidence this is Valentine's flowers from him. Cute, right?

I drank myself to sleeplessness last night, I always do

So I had a job interview for a barista position today that I somehow got from sending this as my cover letter (they asked for favorite band and a current photo, I didn't just include it for fun):

I've never been good at the favorites game. I can never choose just one, and when it comes to music, my favorite changes with my mood. I can tell you right now I've been listening to Band of Horses a lot, that some days my favorite song is "Good Feeling" by the Violent Femmes and that when I need to get my house cleaned I either blast the Old 97's or the White Stripes but The Decemberists are probably my favorite band to see live, with Stars being a close second. I have a soft spot for Willie Nelson, early Tom Waits and Bob Dylan.

I have some previous barista experience though I've primarily been a back of house girl and I am incredibly passionate about excellent coffee. Having recently moved from Northern California, I've found delicious coffee a little short in supply in New York and am anxious to spread the good word. I've worked far worse hours than opening at a coffee shop and survived and I'm comfortable working at a fast pace on my feet for many hours. I learn quickly and have a great a smile. Attached you'll find a picture that shows it.

I mean, I have to imagine there are plenty of actual baristas looking for work but I'm assuming I impressed the manager with my intense hipsterness of music choices. Or the fact that my resume is actually probably really interesting to people regardless of its relevence. It goes something like this: working with drug addicted teens, chocolate, pastry, pastry, pastry, more chocolate, more pastry, fill in front counter staff, cake decorating, teaching English in Turkey, volunteering at orphanages/mother Theresa's hospital in India.

I mean, fuck, if I read my resume I'd want to meet me even if I didn't actually have the skills for the job. I look pretty cool on paper guys.

Anyways I went to the interview and I think I kind of rocked it, despite the fact that I was operating on three hours of sleep. Mostly because the manager looked like she was my age and also seemed to be operating on three hours of sleep and ten cups of coffee. Also she had these big glasses that were super adorbs that made me wish I needed glasses and that if I did I could pull off glasses that awesome. Also, there's a staff book club, how ridic cool is that? (I've decided whole words are doubleplusbad apparently) Obviously the pay is shit because it's a barista job but at this point I have not actually worked for a month and kind of feel like I'm going crazy (that might also be due to the insomnia, but whatevs) so I agreed to come in for a one hour trial tomorrow. Or as Mia puts it, I agreed to go give them my labor for free which shouldn't even be legal. Considering back of house usually has to work for free for at least a whole day, giving away my labor for free for an hour sounds pretty cool.

Of course, I got back from that job interview checked my email and had five actual pastry positions finally respond and I was like "But noooooo, I was sold on the book club, now I'm going to have to give up the book club to work in my actual trade for possibly more money," which really shouldn't sound that bad. The thing is, I'm kind of excited about the prospect of getting back in a kitchen but I'm also kind of terrified.

In the past, Alana in the kitchen=crazy workaholic, no sleep (I AM SO GOOD AT BEING AN INSOMNIAC IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY! Oh my god it's really not I'm so fucking fuckity fuck tired), no fun, career Alana. Or given that I now live with Mia who can drink like I can, Alana in the kitchen might equal workaholic/alcoholic Alana. Alcoholic Alana is pretty fun though, so maybe that wouldn't be so bad (you're going to have to take one for the team, liver).

Really, I think that there are a lot of other circumstances that made me burned out and unhappy in food service and that getting back in the kitchen now might totally rock my world. I'm pretty sure one of the places that responded was the one that said working on menu development was a requirement of the job which pretty much makes me want that job right now even though it's a restaurant not a bakery. So tomorrow after my hour of working for free I've got a lot call backs to make because it didn't seem like cracked out three hours of sleep me who thought it was a good idea to eat half a jar of nutella should talk to anyone on the phone, especially potential employers.

In other news, my room is starting to slowly look like more of a room.

 

Note my fancy computer desk/charging station and picture board, both created by covering cardboard with scarves. Someday I'll get some sort of actual tabley/desk thing over there but the free stuff on craigslist just hasn't had anything useful yet. And by "yet" I mean "in the last week". I keep forgetting that I'll only have been here a week tomorrow. Weeks seem longer when you're an unemployed insomniac.

 

I just thought you should see how heavily I'm relying on scarves to make my room look exciting and inhabited. They're frakkin everywhere.

Oh also, in case you're wondering why I don't just drug myself to sleep- per the drematologist I'm only allowed to take tylenol for I think another two weeks and then I can reintroduce one drug per week just in case I have some sort of crazy allergic reaction because apparently that's just how I roll now. Remember that time I was hoping for super powers? I'm not even allowed to roofy myself this time. Fail.

And I do like you and you like me too

Matt just left to go to Safeway to buy me some Pellegrino because I finished the case that was here and I have a serious addiction. I had managed to cut it out entirely for over a year now but then he was like "Oh look honey, Pellegrino's on sale, we better get a case" and then it was all over. I drink that shit like it's going out of style. But more importantly, I would like to point out that it is 12:43 a.m., we just got back from playing broomball, Matt has to wake up at like 6:30 and he just volunteered to buy me Pellegrino because I was staring wistfully at the old bottles on his nightstand. Ok fine, I was saying that I wished there was Pellegrino but not with any expectation of him volunteering to go get me some. Basically, what I'm saying is he's the sweetest guy ever and for some reason unbeknownst to me think everything I do is wonderful and adorable which is pretty fucking awesome.

I was about to write a post about how I've been staying at his house all week because my asthma has been so bad I've been afraid to stay alone and about how he's taken care of me during the worst of it and even came with me to the doctor which is just like the most disgustingly adorable thing ever but then the Pellegrino thing happened and I thought "that's an even better example of how lame and cutesy couple-y we are" because shit like this HAPPENS ALL THE TIME.

And it's gross. It's just gross how pleased we are with each other and then it's like we become more pleased with ourselves because we're just so pleased to be pleased with each other and now pleased doesn't even sound like a real word anymore but that's just the way it is. We're just so god damn pleased with each other that it's ridiculous. And you know how sometimes at the beginning of a relationship ('cause let's remember Matt and I have known each other for a grand total of 2.5 months aka the same amount of time we've been dating) you're just waiting for the bubble to burst? Waiting to find out what the secret crazy is? I'm not waiting, I just can't imagine anything that would realistically happen and seriously fuck things up.

(Side note: I just told Matt that I often didn't know which posts were good posts until I reread them a month later and suddenly go "oh, that's pretty good, that's why people read my blog" and he told me it was because I'm a fantastisaurus. You can vomit now, it's allowed.)

Somehow we've reached the point where when I say things like "If I take this job we're never going to see each other," Matt says things like "It's not for forever we'll make it work and hopefully I'll be working nights. We can make it work, right?" but when he said "I'll be working nights" he meant in the future when he finishes the EMT program which is really not soon which means thinking in the for sure long term sort of way and instead of freaking me out it just makes me feel all giddy and bubbly inside and oh my god you totally want to punch me right now don't you?

Also we have names picked out for a future cats. Really. Patches and Atticus and one that has yet to be named. There will also be a ferret named "Ferret" because I'm told the ferret does not need a name. But I'm going to call it Boo Radley because then whenever I want to play with the ferret I can say I'm going to go play the Boo Radley game. And now you think I'm crazy because I like "To Kill a Mockingbird" that much but really I just like the name Atticus and think that Atticus Finch is an awesome character to name something after and ever since I said I wanted to name one of that cats Atticus I thought about all the other great pet names in that book like "Boo" and "Scout" and "Jem". Anyways...

Matt asked if I would meet his mother the other night who apparently no other girl has been intentionally introduced to. 

I like the way all this is working out a lot.

I'm ready let's do it baby.