Coming out of the dark

I have been somewhat silent because nothing much has happened since I'm back (I'm back, by the way). Actually, plenty has been happening but I didn't have much of an end to it so now that I do I will explain.

I'm back. I have been back a week now. To those of you in Portland, my apologies for not contacting you right away, but I just want to be settled. I hope you understand. For those of you in Cancun, gosh, what can I say besides I just wanted to leave quietly. It wasn't for lack of WANTING to say goodbye, but didn't I pretty much just do that? That's the way I felt. And so much goes on in the course of the day there that time wasn't right. I was ready to leave and leave quickly, to get back to here and be settled, so I hope you can accept that I just had to go. I was never a big fan of all the fanfare anyway.

So. I got back, stayed at Barbie's for a week, and just moved in briefly with Becky. I rented a car and have looked at an apartment or two, but of course can't get either one of those without having a job. Friday when I got into town I met Linda from First Am for a drink and she outlined her plan, which made me feel pretty good since it's a tough market out there. It was tenuous until Wednesday, when she phoned me back and yesterday, when I got some emails from HR. So I start on Monday. Not really sure what I am doing, but I think I will be floating for a little bit. I'll take it, believe me.

So my next plan of attack is to go find a car and a place to live. Still not settled, but I'm here, and by now most of you should know that if I don't want to talk, I just don't. Sorry but that's the way I am and it's hard to change. And yes, Kim S, I will be phoning you this weekend. :)

Here we go again

Over the years I used to tell people, "I hate change, that's why I make myself go through it so much." So I am changing again. Leaving Cancun, for good this time. Going back to Portland. Not a huge change, but big enough. You see, I sold my car, I got rid of my apartment, I stored my furniture (thank God for that). I quit my job, and now, in a struggling market, I want to go back to it again. Never say never, right? But I think this time around, I wasn't 100% sure that I wanted to go to Cancun. But I did it, because I didn't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if.

I am not a hotel zone person, this is for certain. And I came to understand that I am just not a Cancun person, either. I mean, I like it. I'll come back to vacation again. But I just don't need to live here. The enormous bugs (thank God I haven't had too many horrid issues here in the apartment), the booming (and I mean BOOMING) hip hop music as you pass by Slices at 10am, 1pm, 5pm, 12am, 3am... it never ends. Can you imagine working in that place? Holy mother. The fact that my Spanish is for shit and you just NEED it, you JUST NEED it. The lack of stupid normal stuff like consistant internet, normal TV, Target, sane driving, normal rules and regulations in the business world... the list goes on and on.

So the job evolved and did all manner of twists and turns and frankly, I just wasn't that good at it. I thought I was getting good reception and I was making all kinds of contacts, but it did nothing, it brought nothing into the club, I felt useless and pretty soon I felt like a third shoe, something completely useless. I know what I am good at. I learned what I want. I learned who I am and who I am not. I don't know what drives people to stay here, but whatever it is, I don't have it. So I am leaving and going back.

Many new challenges lay ahead, but I think it's for the best. I have to get back to the business of living, I guess, but this time as a grown up. I hope all of you understand, but my way of thinking is that you have to do what you think is best for yourself, even if it involves risking everything for the unknown and then hoping you can get it all back.

No one will ever say I didn't do anything a little bit nuts in this life, that's for sure.

Lovey Howell ain't got nothin' on me

So yeah, I fainted today. Fairly dramatic, but in retrospect, I could have done better. It all started last night when I took a water pill, which I do, because my ankle on my left foot tends to swell when I am stressed. This morning however, after peeing all night long, I got up and got ready to go to the pool to lay out, because, frankly, I can right now. I neglected to drink any water besides what I took to wash down my pills. Oops.

So I am laying out, minding my own business, and found myself getting thirstier than usual. Janet had a cup of water from the pool bar that I was using as an ashtray, and after my two hours were up, we went to turn in the towels. She was taking the cup back to the bar and I told her, give me a minute, I feel really dizzy. My ears started roaring, and my head was really light, but I thought I could make it to the elevators. So we walked over that way, and the lightheadedness was growing, so Janet suggested I sit on the stairs (across from the elevator). I did and put my head between my knees. Janet went to get me a glass of water from the pool bar, and though she told me to wait there, I kept thinking that if anyone walked by it would be sort of embarrassing to have me sitting there like I was, head between my knees and all that. So I make a decision and stand up and sort of Frankenstein-lunge my way over to the elevator and hit the button. It was on 2. Next thing I knew, I was out.

I imagine whoever was on 1 and coming down to PB had to step over me, but basically, I was leaning against the wall on one side of the elevator and when I fainted, I took a total header into the trash can on the opposite side of the elevator. I remember hearing a lot of crashing. That would have been me crashing into the trash can and the trash can crashing into the wall and then the lid, which, by the way, is also an ashtray, complete with sand (thank goodness they keep it pretty clean), falling OFF the trash can and landing on me. Then I heard a lot of voices and yelling and stuff. So two maintenance men come running over and are pulling me up and in my best Spanish, which on a good day is horrific, I keep telling them everything is fine, I'm fine, I'm sorry, etc. Like a dork. Clearly I am not fine. So they put me BACK on the steps and more maintenance men are coming and security guys and all that, and they are saying, call the doctor, call an ambulance, and I am saying no, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need water.

Meanwhile, back at the pool bar, Janet is getting the water, and as she is walking back toward the stairs (this all happened in the space of maybe 3 minutes), she sees the lavandaria guy waving frantically at her, saying "Your friend! Your friend!" Janet is thinking, what in the HELL could have happened? Did she burst into in flames? And sure enough she rounds the corner and there are 5 people all surrounding Stupid Thirsty White Girl.. they motioned to Janet that I fell, (one might have acted it out, not sure), and she gave me the water and I started feeling instantly better. Another glass later and I was ready to get the hell out of there. So we thanked them all and went to the room and I took a shower and we went to La Isla and had some lunch and a Starbucks and now I am limping, my left knee is sore, my left pinky toe is REALLY sore, and I have a lump on the right side of my forehead. Battle scars. Gotta go home with SOMETHING.

4:04am

Seriously. I don't care about tourists enjoying their vacations anymore. I don't think it's fun when someone gets on the bus with a flipping guitar and sings Cielito Lindo and La Bamba. When I tell you karaoke is done and the last singer of the night just sang, don't argue with me. Just get out.

I can't believe I just got home.

2:24 am

My skin is breaking out, my hair is gray and kind of dirty in the back where it covers my neck, I feel sort of slimey and I have a mosquito bite in my left armpit. And roughly 25 of them around my feet, ankles and calves. My eyebrows are completely grown out and I need to be dipped in wax and rolled in a bedsheet. My fingernails actually have dirt in them. I have been working since 9am yesterday morning but I have to get up later and be downtown by 9:30am. And yet I am here. Because you have to believe me when I say I am stunned that this is me.

Everybody But Me

So as it turns out, in this half-condo, half-hotel situation that I live in (I feel like Benny), the Dish network that supplies our TV is built into the maintenance dues the owners pay. Lately many owners have not been paying their maintenance, which means Dish isn't getting paid consistantly. When that happens, as it turns out, they knock out a couple of channels here and there.

When I started living here I had 2 HBOs, a Cinemax (great...), TBS, TNT, CW (for America's Next Top Model), NBC and CBS. Things have come and gone, and now that I know the system and how it is based on owners not paying, I see it as torture and punishment. Today, I have 1 HBO, TBS, 2 (count 'em, 2) NASA channels, and the Inspirational network. Seriously. So like 2 channels you can watch (the NASA channel is unwatchable unless you are either a complete dork or an astronaut. I don't even think the NASA channel is available on Comcast in Portland).

So what is my biggest beef with this whole situation, since I am home in the morning, briefly in the afternoon for like an hour, and then at like 2 am? TBS plays NOTHING but "Everybody Loves Raymond". I am not kidding. I have been home since 4:45pm today and there have been FOUR episodes on. They just keep coming.

I hate this show. I just don't get it, I don't get the draw. People are amused by these people constantly fighting? This horrific mother and father meddling in their son's life? Good Lord. In the real world that would be grounds for divorce. Imagine your husband ALLOWING the behavior of his in-laws... oh my hell. I realize this is just TV, but honestly, is this what Americans want? A show based on two HORRIBLE people fighting constantly, ruining their kids' lives, and subsequently displaying an absolutely awful home life? Is that family life in America? Geez, I lived it. I don't need to watch it on TV. I think they should have "Everybody Loves Raymond: The Kids Lives" like 40 years from now and see if their kids ever get married. I'm betting they won't.

Rant is done, gotta go back to work. Because everybody loves the hotel zone...

Quiz in the search for meaning

What am I?

I like to get to work early, like 7am, and face my day before the phones start ringing.

I like to stop for a coffee and chat with the barrista who knows what I drink every day.

I like my work scheduled, and if not completely ON schedule, I like to know exactly how to handle the stuff that pops up and gets in the way.

I like to solve problems. I'm pretty good at solving the problems that always seem to come up.

I like the satisfaction of completing a task. I like getting confirmation each day that certain tasks have been completed.

I like knowing what I am talking about at all times.

I like structure. I like the comfort of "home".

I like having the option of meeting friends out. I also like to stay home on the couch and watch a movie or "How I Met Your Mother".

I like going to the grocery store and getting everything that I need all at the same place, and having the money to get it.

I like going to bed around 10. I like a good routine in my life.

What am I?

I'm not sure but I think I might be an Escrow Officer.

How's my bitterness?

My laptop took a dump. I am not sure why or how but my appearance on this here blog will be limited for a little while until I figure out what the FUCK happened. I need this. I need this a LOT.

You better believe I'm bitter.

This just in - New Link (look to your right)

So I just added a new link and I implore you to check it out. I'll wait.

Okay since I am sure you just finished reading it and are now back to finish my post, I will tell you that I am related to this person (by marriage, not blood, and not mine). And I think it's a pretty cool (pretty FRICKIN cool) thing. But after reading the site, and making a nice comment (which lgrt will tell you is really not like me), I thought about it a little bit. Like, it's kind of frightening. I mean, you're driving a course that talks about its lack of roadside "conveniences" like gas stations and wireless internet. You're driving for miles and miles and miles looking at the same scenery with your dad (I can only relate to that on a spiritual level, sorry). It's Alaska and the Arctic Circle so it's flipping cold. The route is full of potholes, soft shoulders, and steep hills. You're pushing 50 for Christ's sake, and I won't even begin to elaborate on the nods towards midlife crisis. Your wife is probably going to be so worried that she'll drain the bank accounts shopping. See? There were a lot of things going through my head.

But again I will say Kudos to you. I am SO going to be glued to this site. Talk about the adventure of a lifetime.

Buggin'

Ya know... I was never a bug person. The first time I moved to Mexico, people said to me, Jeez, Joyce. Are you SURE? I mean, you've SEEN the cockroaches down there. And I said, well, you know, sometimes you have to go against the grain. Maybe the experience will help me get over my phobia.

You can ask Laura what happened the first time I saw something moving underneath my shoe pile.

And the next time, when 2 gigantic cockroaches chased me out of my bedroom in the middle of the night (I don't care what you say, that's my story and I am sticking to it). And then there was the night at Over 30 that the cockroach LANDED ON MY SHOULDER (I blogged about it, it may have been July or August 2006, I'm too lazy to go looking for something to link to).

Since I'm back, and living in the hotel zone, I have had limited issues with buggins. There was that one in the hallway going up to the smoking porch when I first got here, but it was pretty much dead. And I have seen some carci (that would be plural for "carcass" in my world, not sure if it is really a word or not) in the restaurant (no getting around that, but we have a bug guy come in every 2 weeks and it's not like it's in the food or anything). It hasn't been too bad. But then the rains started.

The other day I noticed that the door to the smoking porch was left open, not sure by whom, overnight. When it rains it's like a flipping ice skating rink up there with me and my no traction Eddie Bauer flip flops, so I don't smoke up there when it is raining. So I am on my way up in the morning, I guess this was only yesterday, so much has happened in the rest of my world since then, and as I am rounding the bend to go up the next small flight of stairs to the actual porch, I notice the bended leg of a grasshopper-y like beast. To my recollection, it was the size of a golf bag, and frankly, I didn't stick around long enough to inspect it. All I know is that this thing that could ONLY be called a locust from the plague years was on the riser of the stair, bigger than my hand, in my way, and forever imprinted in my memory.

I haven't been up there since.

Friday morning Joe and I had an appointment with a sales gal over at Basic for some reciprocal advertising opportunities, and so we pulled up to the parking lot there and waited as a taxista moved his car. While waiting, windows down, I spot this huge flying Good-God-What-in-the-Hell-is-THAT sort of thing flitting around (as much as it could "flit", for the love of Christ it had to weigh 15 lbs) from car to car. Of course (of COURSE) it went toward my open window (at least with manual windows you can control how fast the fucking window goes up), but when it couldn't get in, it lit on the windshield. It was huge. It was big, black and shiny with like yellow and red stripes on it, and big long antennae. Of course something like that would have to be able to fly. So we park the car, and I get out, and as I am walking something inspired me to brush the front of my shirt, and of course, I hit something heavy that fell off, and of course I freaked a little bit, and I will, of course, go to my grave saying that the bastard was ON me, even though Joe didn't believe me. Because why WOULDN'T it be on me? I tried Google to try to identify it, but most of the bug identification sites don't show flying beetles spawned from Hell, so I was unsuccessful. But if this thing wasn't 3 inches long not including the antennae, I'll eat my hat.

So this morning, not knowing if the door up there has ever been closed again, I trundle down the steps with my laundry bag, just like every Saturday morning. At the bottom of my steps is a door that I close every night - I don't have to, I just do. It's not like added security or anything, I just do it. Well this morning, all my shit in my hands, bounding down the stairs like a puppy, I obviously startled yet another beast (I am thinking moth at this point, but I don't care, it flew, it was big and it had no where to go but around my general head area). It couldn't go out the door as the door was not yet open, and I am quite sure that it was thinking to itself, Motherfuck! What the hell is THAT?! Just like I was. If it was screaming, just like I was, then I didn't hear it over my own. To top it all off, there were people in the main hallway, so when I grabbed the door handle and yanked it, and lost sight of whatever the hell it was, I had to immediately straighten up (I tend to go fetal in unpleasant situations), clear the look of horror from my face, and act like somebody else was screaming and doing the freaky deaky on the other side of a closed door. Act all cool, don't let them see your legs shaking, walk to the elevator, go to the lavandaria. By the time I got back upstairs I was a basket case.

So yeah, that's been my experience with bugs, the crawling and flying kind, the last couple of days. I have had plenty more experience with the stand up, walking around on two legs variety, too, but I will save that for another day. You don't want to hear it yet. Or maybe I don't want to type it. Yet.

Happy Birthday to Sol!

Once an avid reader, and now it appears not so much, I am hoping this post brings him back into the fold. Even if it doesn't, Happy Birthday to him anyway. We have a fun and relatively long history, and he is funnier than crap. I hope your day is fabulous and that you are able to keep in mind that age is only a number... your youth is a badge you carry with you for as long as you want.

Thanks to Kim S. for reminding me, as I am generally really bad about remembering birthdays...