Spoon full of sugar.

Day 38 of my freedom and first day on the new job as: super nanny. In an effort to *not* drown in graduate school debt -because spending $30K on a master's degree which will never actually increase my earning potential is always a good idea- I've taken on the glamorous task of dedicating 30 hours per week to two tiny tots: girls aged 2 and 4 years old.

I know the family through mutual friends and Mom and Dad are textbook Austin. Naturally, they live in 78704 in a house rehab'd in the [seemingly effortless, yet impossibly unattainable] rustic-vintage-meets-modern-industrial style. Mom rides her bike to the office at Whole Foods corporate, while Dad works in his [at-home] design studio with Ray LaMontagne crooning in the background. There's a Prius in the driveway, vegan sausage in the fridge, and oh yeah, they also run a recording studio used by the likes of Sarah Hickman and Ben Kweller. Naturally.

[Knock on wood] but the girls are cooperative and mild. I loved that this afternoon, I didn't have to meet with any clients or sit through sales meetings...instead, I collected rollie-pollies (sp?) and caught up on some class reading. Sure, the lack of adult interaction might leave me just this side of brain dead if I did this for, I dunno 18 years, but it's a sweet gig for now.

Today was uneventful, although I'm sure there'll be plenty of blogging fodder. Although, I was a little bushwhacked when I arrived at 8:00 this morning to a "poopy explosion" that had taken place a mere moments before my arrival. I cannot describe to you the horror of these two words, so I'll let your imagination do the talking. Clean-up involved a lot of bleach. And not even organic, fair-trade, dolphin-free kind. Like, real Clorox. It was definitely a "situation."

Other than bug-collecting, I realize one great joy of this job will be that I essentially live in a universe of Casual Friday. No strict dress code! Love it! Especially considering my corporate job was so heinously corporate, that there was no such thing as Casual Friday...the Suits saw denim as nothing short of an abomination against Christ himself.

Actually, I take that back. There probably should be a dress code for nannies: as I left the house [on my way straight to class for the evening] I realized I was covered in peanut butter, purple chalk, yellow finger paint, snot, baby powder, and an unidentifiable substance that was likely radioactive...yeah, I should probably go ahead and invest in a haz-mat suit now.

Nuckin' futs.

Day 35 of my freedom and I find myself at home, waiting for a potential roommate to show up. Last night after class, I interviewed with a family for a nanny position and next week, I'll be interviewing for internships. Seems like we spend an awful lot of time jumping through hoops...always screening. impressing. trying too hard. I mean seriously, we all know that even in the romantic world, the first couple dates aren't really "dates" in the sense that you'd like to enjoy yourself while also forming a connection with another human being; but more "dates" in the sense that they're a thinly veiled screening process in an effort to fill an opening (some may call this a deep, emotional void) in your life.

But here's why I love Craigslist: it does half the work for you! Call me shallow/conceited/lofty/bitchy but if you cannot properly punctuate a sentence, or have an annoying habit of *constantly* splitting infinitives, I don't want you under my roof. I find e-mail is a nice, detached way of weeding out potential renters. Case in point: I received interest from a young lady whose 900 word [first contact] message I will condense and regurgitate here, with my bracketed, [literally] colorful commentary:

Hi! My name is Crazy (typo, but it stays...ok, ok I did that on purpose) I'm 18 years young (young doesn't even begin to describe you, toots) and I graduated this year from McCallum High School. Yay me! (thank you for at least using/spelling the proper form of 'yay' as opposed to 'yeah') It was a rough 4 years, but I got through it. Finally.(hmmm nice use of foreshadowing here. Your pointedly vague use of "rough" sends little shivers up my spine. What does it all mean??) I'm an only child (did you really scare your parents into stopping reproduction?), so having a roommate will be interesting.. lol. (your tone says 'laid-back' but your uneasy ellipsis with 'lol' says 'emotionally wheels-off')

My past: (I like the subtitled chapters. Nice touch. Also means you have too much time on your hands)

During my freshman year in highschool, I began having lots of trouble. (Again, vague use of "trouble" frightens me). I would skip school, cry out of nowhere, have panic attacks, etc. (Ahh, there it is! Some real character exposition. Love it!) Finally, I was admitted into the Shoal Creek Psychiatric Hospital for self-harm. The psychiatrist later diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder, and I was put on medication. I haven't been back since, and I've been stable (I'll go ahead and assume you use the term 'stable' loosely). Sure, I still have my depression moments and mood swings, but that's all part of being a hormonal teenage girl (really? I thought it was boys, breaking curfew, more boys, drinking Boone's Farm, and lots more boys...I like my version better). By the way, I'm NOT psycho. (No, no of course not!) Bipolar Disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. No, I'm not going to come after you in the middle of the night with a knife (I'm sure you prefer a chainsaw). I'm a sweetheart, trust me. (Again, experiencing extreme discomfort at closing this sentence with "trust me." Pretty sure those are the last words you hear when waking up in a basement outside Guadalajara, in a bathtub of ice, with your kidneys neatly packaged in a Zip-Loc bag next to the hairdryer on the sink).

My current situation:

So after graduating high school, I decided to take a year off. Now I work full-time at a pet store, which I love because I get to see and pet animals (do they not smell the crazy on you? I thought animals could do that.) Oh yeah, last week I picked up a German Shepherd puppy off the streets (Because this seems like just the kind of responsibility you can handle at the age of 18).The vet estimates that she is going to be between 80 and 90 pounds. She is already displaying protectiveness signs. And she loves to chew on her toys. (Basically, she will kill you).
Another thing.. my mom and I fight constantly, and my dad doesn't do anything about it, so I'm always feeling kind of helpless (Wow! This just keeps getting better and better! Alright, alright I do kind of feel for you here. Kind of.). I want someone who I can get along with and just will be there for me and will be like a best friend and will talk to me and just let me vent when I need to (Well, I need someone that can just be a responsible grown-up, not flush tampons down the toilet, or set up a meth lab in the closet. How about we both just shit in one hand, wish in the other, and see which one fills up faster, k?).

Anyway, that's currently where I stand right now ('Anyway'? That's it? Whew! Thought I might really have a crazy person for a second there!).

Hope to hear from you soon!

That's the other thing I love about Craigslist: while you might not ever find someone to rent out your third bedroom, at least the shit's entertaining!

Un-office.

Day 33 of my freedom and here is an excellent example of my typical day, post-Costa Rica bliss, post-corporate life, in my favorite format (aka: list compilation):

* List of things I did not do today:

• Open an Outlook Inbox with 35+ unread emails, all the while wondering how long my stupid freakin' Dell will let me work undisturbed by Malware pop-ups and Unused Desktop Icon alerts before I have to shut down the whole system and call [useless] IT man.
  
• Sit in traffic on northbound I-35, thinking the Jetsons had it right. Especially with the whole fold-up-your-flying-car-into-a-suitcase thing (oh, and the robot-maid was a good call, too)...no traffic *and* no parking issues. Genius.
  
• Drag myself to 6:00 am spin class, so I can get in a work-out before the office at 8:00, cursing myself for again forgetting that 24 Hour Fitness has no actual body wash in the little shower soap dispensers and let's hope I don't get foot fungus because while I did manage to pack my Hair Pro 500, my frackin' flip-flops are in the car.
  
• Guiltily leave behind my dog for a ten hour day, then spend the rest of said day concoting in the back of my mind all sorts of destructive images of how my sweet golden girl has avenged her loneliness by either destroying a pair of shoes, or swallowing a large, unidentifiable object resulting in a frightful pile of vomit for mommy to clean up when she [finally] comes home.
  
• Deal with clients -maybe unhappy- always demanding. 'nough said.
  
• Try to assuage the childlike temper tantrums of a certain Director of Operations, marveling at how one can arrive at the age of 35 and still be such a daft, unbearable assclown.
  

*List of things I did do today:

• Opened an Entourage Inbox with a handful of unread emails, all regarding assistantships
  
• Step over a fuzzy-faced doggy pile on the way downstairs (that's my kinda' gridlock)
• Made an afternoon bikini wax appointment
• Solidified lunch plans
• Put on pants...but then thought better of it. Why wear pants when you work from home?
• Read the remainder of 1968 in America: Music, Politics, Chaos, Counterculture and the Shaping of a Generation for my History class
• Perfectly formatted my email signature in Entourage. Why hadn't I done this before?? Decided on bang-up combination of century gothic in maroon and dakota handwriting in teal, bolded for added contrast. Shazam!
  

In the meantime, I also did not make any money but miraculously feel unbothered by this point...must be the new e-mail signature.

Waste.

Day 32 of my freedom and what have I done with it? Basically, nothing.

Really, I never cease to amaze myself with how I can manage to successfully allow hours of my life to disappear (aka: waste time). This talent is in fact, the reason why -no matter how hard I try- I always seem to be ten minutes late to everything. My thought process goes something like this:

"I should definitely allow myself a solid hour to prepare for [insert activity of the day here]. Because I would hate to keep [insert name of generally important person here] waiting...that'll give me enough time to shower and dry my hair, feed Schatzi and get dressed."

*35 minutes later...*

"Wow. Can't believe I got ready so fast! I might as well check the mail real quick and empty the dishwasher"

*20 minutes later...*

"Golly gee! I've still got a few minutes to spare! I could leave right now *or* I could go ahead and remove this chipping nail polish. And the toilet is looking kinda' funky, too...."

*30 minutes later...*

"Oh shit! I was supposed to be [insert moderately important place here] ten minutes ago! What the hell happened??!"

So yeah, my house is always spotless and my nail beds flawless but I myself always show up sweaty and disheveled from quite literally hauling ass across town. Every. Freakin'. Time.

Wee babe.

OK. Survived my first grown-up baby shower. This was a very surreal experience and one which I will only encounter more as I grow older. My friends are now reproducing and I'm not sure how I feel about this. My uterus also feels very confused....all I know is that I get uncomfortably bloated after three beers, so I really don't want an eight pound meatloaf living rent-free for almost a year in my tummy. There! I said it!

Don't get me wrong: loved hanging out with the ladies this afternoon and I am overjoyed for my friend and her growing family. That being said, I was very happy to come home to my two-year-old golden retriever mutt and not a two-year-old babe.

Yes, you can all start sending me e-mails about how I will one day change my mind. I love it when people say that! Plus, I also really like clicking "select all" and then hitting "delete." It's my favorite!

Regresar.

Aaaaand we're back! Day 28 of my freedom, back in Austin and back to blogging. Apparently, internet can be hard to come by in the remote, mountainous regions of northwest Costa Rica...who knew?

Here are a few reflections for today:

• Updating my online portfolio was a tiny bit painful, as I had to revisit the days of only having an Olympus point-n-shoot. That being said, the process was also a powerful reminder that mediocre equipment coupled with a passion for capturing humanity and a good eye, will always out-shoot a lackluster spirit with an expensive, fancy lens. Always.
• Last night, I drank Franzia Sunset Blush wine out of the box, over ice, in a glass emblazoned with the Confederate flag. Not sure when this became my reality, but c'est la vie.
• Traveling for a straight five days and nights in a foreign country, in a tiny 4x4 with unreliable GPS, across a land that does not have street names or numbers, then getting up at 4:00 am for an international flight on a Sunday, is the ultimate test for a relationship. If you can survive it happily (as we did) then hold on tight...you got something good.
• A few Benadryl, an Imperial beer (ah, sweet nostalgia), and the bf's insanely spicy Thai curry will scare away even the worst case of Austin allergies.
• There is something oddly satisfying about spending the past two hours of this Friday evening cleaning the hell out of my house. I feel domestic and proud, goddamit.

Tomorrow: attending my first baby shower as a grown-up for one of my friends that is, well, preggo. Expect an update for sure.

Surf.

Yesterday, my friend said to me, "you can't fight the big waves. Just turn and dive in. Headfirst."

Last night, I went swimming in the Pacific Ocean. No one else around. No lights, but lots of rain. I love feeling the waves break into white surf. You can see it, brilliant at night. I wondered if the water ever gets afraid...tumbling toward the shore, breakneck. Is it afraid of the break? Does it see it coming?

Maybe the wave is afraid. But maybe it's only afraid until it realizes there are only ever waves. That's all there ever was. There will always be waves.

"La vida es como el oleaje, entonces te regala como el mar."

Life is like the surf; so give yourself away like the sea.

Pura vida.

So I'm at the beach, Manuel Antonio. Amazing in every way...there are incredibly strict codes, so from the shore you don't see one single building. The above is an actual photo of this place. I tell you, better than Thailand. There! I said it!

Nothing else to report...not even anything that funny to say. Who needs funny, when you've got beach, baby??!

PURA VIDA.

For the record: tomorrow, kayaking in the Pacific Ocean, maybe trying my hand when the surf's up in the morning :)

H2O.

Day 15 of my freedom and I continue to be a human sponge, here in Central America. A couple things about water in Costa Rica, specifically San Joquin de Flores:

• Unlike Austin water, you can drink it straight from the tap. No Brita necessary! Somehow, their water is truly potable, in the sense that it a) doesn`t stink to high heaven and b) it will not kill you / give you dysentary
  
• There are only hot water taps on kitchen sinks. I`m ok with this, although I am still not used to washing my face in cold water.
• Showers are heated with electricity. I mean quite literally that there is the shower head, with water coming out, and attached to the top is a mechanism with a bunch of wires that heats the water. This seems to violate pretty much every rule we learned in 3rd grade science class about conductors, electricity, and the creation of death, but I guess whatever works....

Speaking of water: tomorrow I´m headed off to the coast for a couple days. I believe the next 48 hours will involve mostly beach, beer and a hacky sack, so I might scratch the bottom of the barrel for posting material. Stay tuned....

Crocs.

Day 13 of my freedom and I thought certainly, I had escaped the most vile of footwear: Crocs. I mean, this is one of those contributions to society where I really just wish the United States would have stopped: up there with Big Macs, Bratz Dolls, and assless chaps. They should all be wiped from the face of the planet, but that´s just my thinking.

Anyway, here I am, thousands of miles from US soil, thinking I was safe. But at spanish school today, I saw some chump sporting a pair of yellow Crocs. I cannot even begin to describe all the reasons why one should never wear these things outside of gardening in the privacy of your own backyard. Ugh. Just so unfortunate looking. I asked where he was from (Alabama)...no surprise there. I´m pretty sure not a single soul outside our great States would be caught dead in Crocs.

I hate to stereotype, but let´s be real...only in America.