Too Pooped to Post

I think this is the longest I've gone so far without posting. I've been so busy with my new job that I haven't been online in ten days. I'm so tired when I come home that I have no energy to blog.

The job is going fine so far except for one thing: I've hurt my back. Nothing serious, but with all the bending and lifting that I do, I've pulled a muscle in my lower back. And the smaller movements seem to set it off more than large ones. Like I can bend down to pick something up off the floor if I do it slowly, but if I laugh, sneeze, yawn, or even shift my weight, I get a twinge of pain in my lower back that feels like it goes right through to my front. Dang. I think my body is telling me that I'm too old to return to retail after a 15-year hiatus. I'm going to see my doctor on Wednesday to see what he tells me. In the meantime, I've been popping Advils like they're M&Ms. And unlike M&Ms, Advils do melt in your hand.

I've finished reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." I'm satisfied with the outcome. That's all I'll say, so as not to spoil anything for those of you who haven't read it yet. Now I think I have to re-read all the Harry Potter books from the beginning, now that the series is complete. I've forgotten so many little facts over the years that the books came out, so it will be great to be able to read them all in succession.

Three Days and Counting

Actually, it's 2 days, 4 hours and 20 minutes until midnight of Saturday, July 21st. That's when "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" will be released. My local independent bookstore is having a day-long series of Potter-related events on Friday, ending with the release of the book at midnight. And being the nerd girl that I am, I've pre-purchased a copy and will be picking it up at 12:01 am Saturday morning, along with many other Harry Potter fans. Of course, I'm not completely geeky -- I could show up dressed as a character in the book -- but I won't. That would just be weird, although I could very easily make a Hogwarts school uniform out of the grey flannel J. Crew mini-kilt, grey cardigan sweater, and white button-down shirt that happen to be a part of my wardrobe anyway. And I do own a magic wand (it was a gift, okay?). The British edition of the book is expected to be 608 pages, while the American edition is 784 pages. Why is that? It's the same book, after all. Does the American edition have bigger type? Is the eyesight of American children collectively that much worse than that of British kids? (I blame video games). I love the American editions if only for the wonderful illustrations by Mary GrandPre (see above) used by Scholastic, the American publisher of the Harry Potter books. They're charming, and they appeal to both the children and adults who read the book. The British publishers release two versions of each book, one for children, and one for adults with a less juvenile-looking cover.

I saw "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" last Thursday. I enjoyed it, but I left the theater feeling that something was missing. I was a bit disappointed that some of my favorite scenes from the book were cut from the movie. Oh well. That's not going to stop me from seeing it again this Sunday. Then again, maybe I should just stay home all day Sunday and start reading "Deathly Hollows." Now I'm conflicted.

Tea Lady

I got the job at the tea shop. I start tomorrow. I had a one-hour-and-fifteen-minute interview on Friday, during which time a vicious thunder-and-lightning storm came through, all while we were safe inside. By the time my interview ended, the sun had come out again. How deliciously metaphorical.

I was really nervous about accepting this job, only because my confidence is a bit worse for wear after my last job. But as I look back on my employment history, it appears that my gut instinct is lousy. I seem to have made decisions that were the exact opposite of what I should have done. I've accepted jobs I shouldn't have, and turned down jobs I shouldn't have. And when I had interviewed for my last job, I came away from it really, really wanting it. I thought the people were great and it would be a fantastic job. Boy was I wrong on that one. So I should take a page from Seinfeld's George Constanza's book and do the opposite: "It all became very clear to me sitting out there today, that every decision I've ever made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have in every aspect of life, be it something to wear, something to eat... It's often wrong."

It's frightening that George Costanza has become my unemployment idol.

And when I'm plagued by self doubt, I just repeat the mantra of Saturday Night Live's fictional self-help guru Stuart Smalley: "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me." Truer words have never been spoken.



Two Dubious Role Models: George Costanza and Stuart Smalley

Doctor Woo-Hoo!

Tomorrow night is the much anticipated (by me, anyway) American television premiere of the third season of Dr. Who. I must stress that I am not usually a Dr. Who fan, but ever since they brought it back, and especially when David Tennant took over the role from Christopher Eccleston, I have become addicted. But I bet Dr. Who has many new fans of the female persuasion because of David Tennant. Of course, the entire third season has already been shown in Britain, which means that I sort of know what happens in the end because I've been reading blogs of British fans like Project 76 and Struggling Author. But that's okay. As long as I get to watch David Tennant for an hour, I'm happy.

Tomorrow's debut is a double feature. It starts with last year's Christmas special, The Runaway Bride. I haven't even seen it yet and recent Dr. Who news in Britain is already revealing that this year's Christmas special's guest star is Kylie Minogue. Will Kylie and the Doctor fall in love? She should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky.... But I can't wait to see The Runaway Bride. I've been waiting since last Christmas, when I followed the official Dr. Who BBC website and downloaded photos of the dishy doctor and comedienne Catherine Tate. It's nice to see a (fellow) big-boned, redheaded woman as the Doctor's companion, albeit temporary. The double feature continues with the first proper episode of the season, "Smith and Jones," where the Doctor meets his newest companion, Martha Jones. Martha looks cooler than the Doctor's previous companion, Rose Tyler. Not that I didn't like Rose, Martha just looks like she could kick more ass.

It will be nice to have this distraction tomorrow night, as I have a job interview tomorrow afternoon, and I'll need something to relax and unwind to in the evening. I've got an interview for the manager position of the local tea shop in town. I love going there as a customer, and it would be like a little bit of heaven to have a short commute to a job I genuinely enjoy. So fingers crossed.

Hmm, Dr. Who and Tea, two uniquely British things. Maybe these two worlds colliding on the same day could be a good omen of a successful interview?

Breakin' The Law

As of this past Saturday, I am in violation of the newly enacted state law that requires all residents of Massachusetts to have health insurance. I had insurance when I was working, but now that I'm unemployed I can't afford it. I am entitled to continue my health insurance through my former employer through COBRA, but the payments would be $300 a month. And I just can't swing that on unemployment, as having health insurance would mean that I would be $300 short for rent each month. Let's see, which do I choose: health insurance or rent? Sorry, rent wins. Rent always wins. But if I don't purchase health insurance I'll have to pay a penalty in my 2008 state income taxes.

The growing costs of health care has always been a problem in America. While many industrialized nations offer nationalized health care to its citizens, the American government has always been wary of it because they feel it smacks of socialism, which in their eyes is one step away from Communism. (It's for this reason that our railways aren't nationalized either, and thus why Amtrak is always in financial crisis). And these nations with nationalized health care do tax their citizens to cover the cost. But I feel for a state to require all residents to have health insurance is penalizing many innocent people for the trangressions of a few who abuse the system. There are a lot of people who can't afford even low-cost health insurance, or people like me who are unemployed. And today I've started seeing commercials for new companies that are popping up, offering "affordable" health insurance in the same way that companies like Geicko or Amica offer low-cost car insurance. They seem kind of suspect to me. It's as if this new law is opening the door to many fly-by-night companies. All they need now is a humorous spokesperson or anthropomorphized mascot in a witty 30-second commercial. Maybe if the Ditech.com cavemen aren't busy they could break a leg or get into a car accident and appear in a health insurance ad. But do I really want to put my health in the hands of these people?

This new law doesn't do anything to try to reform the health care industry. I'm skeptical that it will lead to the establishment of new companies that really do offer quality affordable health insurance. This law protects the health care industry, at least in Massachusetts, by making sure that it doesn't lose money. I know it's a problem for them, but the skyrocketing costs of healthcare, and the overwhelming costs that can accrue if someone is sick or in an accident, can literally bankrupt people. My mother is in tears on an almost daily basis because, as a retired widow on a fixed income, she is overwhelmed by bills for her breast cancer treatments, including biopsies, a life-saving lumpectomy, and radiation treatments. Medicare only pays a small portion, and doesn't cover the cost of the radiation pills she'll have to take for the next three to five years. In fact, Medicare doesn't cover the cost of prescription medications, and many elderly people take multiple prescription medications.

Coincidentally, Michael Moore's new documentary "Sicko" opened in limited release this weekend. It deals with this very issue of unaffordable health care for Americans. Being in my current predicament, I would normally applaud this effort, but I don't like Michael Moore. His documentaries are always one-sided, and it appears that he manipulates them through what he chooses to show or, conversely, not to show, in order to sway the viewer to accept his subjective viewpoint as fact. In fact, I saw an interview with him on CNN today, and the anchorman asked Moore why he didn't have any representatives of the health care industry defending their side in"Sicko." Moore's answer? I'm paraphrasing, but basically he said that he didn't need to because Americans already know what the health care industry is doing to them. In other words, he really didn't justify his ommission of opposing viewpoints. To be fair, I haven't seen "Sicko" and I don't plan on seeing it, so I could be wrong about it. But I doubt it.

I'll get off my soapbox now. I just hope I don't fall off of it and injure myself before I get insurance again.

Karmic Graffitti

I got back on Saturday from visiting my mom last week. She was still a bit upset in the beginning of the week, but having one of her children home for a week seemed to help. We went out several times during the week, including the mall, our favorite Chinese buffet restaurant, and our favorite pizza place that we'd been going to for over twenty years. I went with her to her radiation treatments at the hospital. Everyone there was really nice and I know they're taking good care of her. She only has about three weeks to go, and I think once her radiation treatments are over she'll feel like she can get on with things, like selling her house and moving up here to be with her children.



This is a section of sidewalk in Salem. The graffitti reads "Be Happy Please," which is an odd thing for a person to write in wet cement. Usually you see things like "NG Was Here" or "NG ♥ DW." I've never seen a request in wet cement before. The word "please" makes it particularly poignant, as if it is a plea and not merely a "Don't Worry Be Happy" brand of optimistic sentiment. I first saw this seven years ago on my first visit to Salem as a tourist. I was in a major funk at the time, and even though I was thoroughly enjoying my vacation, I found myself sitting at a sidewalk cafe with a cup of coffee and crying for no reason. A few minutes later I walked along this sidewalk and found this message in cement. I had a friend in college who was really into psychic phenomena, and she believed that if she saw something like a motto on a billboard, or on the side of a truck, for example, and it was relevant to her situation, she took it as a sign. I couldn't help feeling that this message in cement was a sign to me. Being that I was in what is arguably the psychic capital of America made it seem even more significant. This message is still there, seven years later. When I first saw it, I would never have imagined that someday I'd be living in Salem. But here I am. My funk is long gone now, but this graffitti in cement still serves as a message of hope every time I walk past it.

Go Greyhound

I'm leaving for my mom's house in Connecticut tomorrow. I'll be gone for most of the week. I hadn't planned on it, but my mom has been going through a lot in the past few months and it's really getting to her. The family dog died a couple of months ago at the ripe old age of 17. Since my siblings and I all moved away from home years ago, the dog was my mom's constant companion. Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer around the same time that the dog died. Luckily, it was in the early stages, it hadn't spread, and they were able to remove it all. As far as a cancer diagnosis goes, it was the best possible scenario. But just as a precaution, she has to undergo radiation treatments five days a week for seven weeks. This had delayed her plans to sell her house and move to Massachusetts, where all of her children reside. She had wanted to be up here already. But she did put her house on the market last week, and on the first day of the Open House, received an offer. Unfortunately, the house didn't pass inspection because of rising damp in the basement, which had flooded years ago and which was never properly fixed (which she didn't realize until the inspection). So the potential buyers withdrew their offer. When I called to talk to her today, like I do every Sunday, she sounded upset. When I asked her what was wrong, she completely lost it and started crying. She said it's a combination of the sale of the house not going through, plus the radiation treatments and the pills they have her on. She sounded so depressed that it scared me. So I told her I could come home for a week and stay with her. After all, I'm not working right now, so I have all the time in the world. The conversation went like this:

Mom: No, don't come down, you can't afford it.
Nowhere Girl: Yes, I can. I have money.
M: No, you're not working right now.
NG: It's alright, I can take the bus.
M: No, you need to save your money.
NG: I'M COMING DOWN ANYWAY.

My mom always puts her kids first. Here she's scaring the hell out of me because she's so depressed right now, and she's worrying about me not having money. But I know my mom. As much as she protests, she really does want me to come visit. So I told her I was coming, no ifs, ands, or buts. Once I did, she acquiesced. I knew she would. So tomorrow, I will be on a Greyhound bus bound for Connecticut for five and a half hours, possibly more if there's traffic (which there usually is).

I like taking the Greyhound bus. It sounds crazy, but I'm perfectly happy to sit on a bus (those comfy tourist kinds, with the plush seats) with my iPod so that my 9-hour Best of the Eighties playlist serves as a soundtrack to the motion picture that is the passing scenery outside my window. Unless I can't get a window seat. I really have to have a window seat. A female friend of mine once told me that if I ever took a Greyhound bus, to sit up front near the driver and not talk to anybody. She said every time she takes it, it's full of strange men traveling alone. I've never had any problems. Keeping the iPod earbuds plugged in my ears the entire time helps, as it intimidates potential traveling companions from trying to talk to me. But my friend does have a point about strange men on interstate buses. You always hear about convicts, just released from prison, who are given a new suit of clothes and a bus ticket - or do they not do that anymore? And whenever there's a cross-country dragnet for a wanted criminal or escaped convict, nine times out of ten they're apprehended at a Greyhound bus terminal, attempting to flee the state. The other option is the Chinatown Express, those inexpensive buses that travel between New York and Boston for $10 each way. I took the Fung Wah bus once and had no problems whatsoever, but that was before the Asian gangs got involved. The gang wars led to the stabbings of Chinatown Express bus drivers and the sabotage of the buses. Not that the mobsters need to set fire to the Chinatown Express buses, mind you. They seem to catch fire by themselves with alarming regularity, usually while speeding along the Mass Turnpike at 85 miles per hour.

It's sad to think that this trip home will probably be one of the last times I visit that town before my mom moves away forever. I'll miss things that I used to take for granted, like the mall that my sister and I used to trawl practically every weekend for twenty years, starting when we were teenagers. But what I'll miss most about that place was its proximity to New York City. New York is 45 minutes away by train from where my mom lives. I always thought that, no matter where I lived, I'd always maintain my connection to New York City because my mother still lived just outside of it. I could always stay with her and take a commuter train into Manhattan. Until I moved to Massachusetts, I had spent my entire life living in the New York Metropolitan area. Now, if I go back, it will be as if I'm not from New York. I'll have to take Amtrak, and pay for a hotel room. In short, I'll be a tourist in the city that I was born in. That makes me sad.

Right, I'm off to take a Lunesta now so that I can battle my chronic insomnia and get a good night's sleep. I'm not used to getting up before noon since I've been unemployed, and I've got to leave the house early tomorrow.