the end of schlemiel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated

They say an era is defined as a significant period of time. And whether or not my time in Milwaukee was significant, it's definitely the end of an era. I've decided to cut my losses and move back to Tucson.

I held out for as long as I could to continue my stay in the mid-west, but I guess, it just wasn't meant to be. Technically, I could stay for about another month and a half, but do I really want to stay around for more rejection? What am I, a masochist? 

I could be stubborn, because I know firsthand, that sometimes being stubborn does pay off in the end. But I also know that being too stubborn can blind sight you and make you lose sight of your original goals. 

I'm really gonna miss this place. It was the first time I ever got to live on my own. I learned how to cook, thanks to the wonderful hosts on the Food Network who kept me company those long days I spent emailing my resume. I learned that the word, "budget" actually does exist and that it's not just some crazy thing, people made up when explaining why they buy shoes at the supermarket. And most of all, I learned just how hard out here it is fo' a pimp.

I'm gonna miss the people that I met here. All but one. And I'm gonna miss not being able to spend the summer with them and attend all the great festivals Milwaukee is home to during the summer. But, I am excited about going home. As coincidence would have it, Mike Lightyear Sr., the grandfather of Blu, who took a liking to me during my brief unemployment in Milwaukee , asked me if I would be willing to drive his gold Jaguar back to Tucson, pick up his white Cadillac and drive it back to Milwaukee. All expenses paid. I already had my plane ticket and was in the middle of trying to decide how I would get my stuff back home, when Mike called. It was like a prayer answered. I've always wanted to take a trip along Route 66, ever since The Cheetah Girls sang about it in the cult classic, Cars. I, of course, jest. I've actually wanted to cruise 'the mother road' ever since I read about it in "The Grapes of Wrath," my sophomore year and now I have the chance. 

Some may say, I'm just giving up and that I should hold in there just a little bit longer, but, no. It's time for me to move on. I don't know yet how living in Milwaukee will impact my life altogether, but I do know I wouldn't change it for the world.

*If you wanna keep track of my route back to Tucson, follow me on Twitter now or on Facebook!

david strikes back

I did something kinda bad. Okay, really, horribly, terribly bad. And the surprising thing about it? I really don't have any remorse. Has Milwaukee changed me that much? And if so, has it been for the worse?

As most of you already know, I've been busy for the past month, filling out applications and sending my resume to everywhere I could think of. And during that time, I've been thinking a lot about Blu and how she totally screwed up my situation in Milwaukee for petty reason. I personally believe Blu didn't like the fact that her brother told her, that two people from Tucson would help her open her store and she didnt have a say in it, either way. And since she had to accept it, since her brother was providing the financial funds for her store, she did. That is, until after all the major "before" work had been completed and I filled out the proper paperwork, canceling my unemployment, she decided to have me and Gwen fired. Fortunately, she only half succeeded, because my roommate Gwen didnt get fired, even though Blu claimed she was lazy, rude, and incompetent. 

It wasn't fair that Blu went on living like this, as an evil, vindictive, lying, manipulative and spiteful person. Trying to make the lives of innocent people, difficult. Originally, Gwen was to be the manager of the store, but Blu had other plans. She made her best friend Annette, a hippie with no retail or management experience, the manager, putting her above Gwen. And since Blu and Annette have absolutely no idea what they're doing, they put all the blame on Gwen and stress her out more than she should be. It's just not right. 

And Gwen, could quit. In fact, she's even come home from work, saying she's had enough, but then, what good would it do us, if we were both out of a job? Already, I felt like Pam, from The Office...no good if we both felt like her.

Blu had to be taught a lesson, the lesson being, you do not mess around with me, my family or my friends. And if taught well, a lesson can impact the way a person continues with the way they live their life. So, I took matters into my own hands. 

I dressed the part of a business person who had a layover in Milwauke, went to the historic Hilton Hotel in downtown and rented a suite. Once in the room, I opened up my Mac and began to write a "Dear Guest, thank you for staying with us..." letter, only the guests name would be that of Blu's husband. The room provided me with stationary and an envelope, which made it look more official and since I've been a welcomed guest in many a hotel, I knew exactly what to stay. I even included a paragraph about a free night's stay, just so long as he brought in the letter and the included reference number. 

I checked out of the room within two hours, claiming the airport had called me with a standby ticket and didn't have to pay a single cent. Still, my plan called for a hotel receipt, which I made sure I had in my hand before I left. With the letter and receipt in tow, I awaited for the perfect moment to set off my plan. According to Blu's husband's Facebook account, he'd be out of town for the weekend, "goin' to see some buds," so with a few photo shop skills, I changed the date on the hotel receipt to make it look like he never left and knowing that he and Blu lived a couple blocks away, I casually left the receipt inside the doggie door...okay, I think I've said enough.

Work has never been better for Gwen. Blu has had other things to deal with, and apparently, the store has been more productive. None of the employees are stressed, people are coming in more because "the mean lady who is off-putting" is no longer around and there has been a noticeable increase in sales. 

Despite those facts, I know a lot of comments will be negative. And though there may be a few that don't agree with how I did things, I did it because I wanted to prove that I am not a force to mess with. Especially, when it comes to my well-being or my friends. I guess you could say, I'm not someone that you want as an enemy. Before coming to Milwaukee, I never would have thought of doing something like this. This city sure has changed me...

grey gardens

Normally, I don't like to blog short posts, only because I write as much as I talk in real life. But I have to make a little rave.

Tonight, on HBO, Grey Gardens, a movie based on the lives that inspired the Maysles Brothers' classic documentary, will finally premiere! If you've a fan of the documentary, this seems to me, to be a really nice companion piece. I saw it when I was in grade school, and my mom rented it from the library, thinking it was "The Secret Garden," and I've been a fan ever since. Total cult classic. Maybe the clothing choices is a little out there, but I love the overall eccentric-ness of it all.

The movie tells the story of "Big Edie" Beale and her daughter "Little Edie," who were relatives of Jackie O, and made interesting and devastating choices in life, forging a unique bond while living in a ramshackle East Hampton mansion.

It stars Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore. Yes, that Drew Barrymore. She’s ridiculously adorable. You want to hate her, but you JUST CAN’T. She did crazy child star RIGHT. And from the previews, her acting talents prove she was born from Hollywood royalty.

It premieres tonight and probably for the rest of spring, and I hope you all get the chance to see it!

an easter carol

Last year, I spent Easter at the Vatican. This year? Well, it sure ain't the Vatican. And that's just how life is. One moment, you're in Italy, eating a Margherita pizza in the Piazza della Signoria and the next, you're eating tuna out of a can, waiting by your computer to see if you're emailed resume was accepted. Or, if you're a celebrity, one moment you're marrying an A-List television star with matching hair highlights, the next you're at the Oscars, sitting front row with your new love and your ex-wife is on stage as a presenter.

But since I'm not a celebrity and just a regular person, I've been doing the former for the past few weeks, looking for a job. And for some reason, that's when I started thinking about church. It had been forever since I've gone to church. Before, I went almost every Sunday to church with my family, but ever since I've moved here...Sunday seems to just pass on by. I think it's a living on your own type of thing. With no parents around, you forget about doing the little things, like going to church, eating your vegetables, making sure the hooker your paid for leaves after the first hour, so she doesn't charge for the hours she sleeps over.

Not being of the Catholic faith, I didnt wan't to go to the cathedral across my apartment. The bells ring too early and when it's noon, it rings for a full two minutes, which makes it that much harder to sleep in. No, I wanted to find a place that was charming and quaint, and had at least a handful of well-dressed, fashionable people. That's when I saw it. St. Paul's Episcopal Church. It was a beautiful sanctuary made out of red Lake Superior sandstone with tall angel statues greeting you at the front entrance along with detailed, original Tiffany's stained glass windows. And a lady, wearing a rabbit coat, walked into the small garden where the church office was located so I knew I would spend Easter there.

On the way to St.Paul's, I realized I didn't have any money for the offering. I never carry cash, since it always gets wrinkled and crinkled in my pocket and I never seem to have enough when I approach the cashier. And unless the church had an ATM, I was gonna have to do that awkward oh-darn-what-pocket-did-I-put-my-wallet-in, dance. So, in a short, succinct prayer, I told God that whatever money I found on the ground, on the way to church, I would put that in the offering, thinking I would find a couple of coins, at the very least. I didn't. But on the way back from church, I found $10 bucks laying on the street.

I took it as a sign. Maybe my luck was changing. Maybe, if I kept my promise to God about giving any money I found on the street to the church, things would start to change. At this point, I was desperate to believe in any signs that came my way and so I knew I had to go back.to St. Paul's. And I did. I was hoping to catch someone during the church's half-hour long, noon prayer and meditation service, but when I got to St. Paul's, they were closed. The double wooden doors wouln't budge. I spent half an hour walking around the building, trying to find some way in, when I saw a FedEx delivery guy leaving the church office. The door closed, before I could reach it and so, I buzzed the front bell to be let in. But nothing. Then, a black girl with a bad weave came limping up the pathway on crutches, and I knew, surely, they wouldn't turn us away from a church. If only we had a scarecrow and a tin man to accompany us...

But we didn't and still, no one came to the front door. We rang and rang the buzzer and knocked on the door, but nothing. I even stuck my hand through the mail slot, hoping I could push open the door. But that didn't work. The black crippled girl with a bad weave, eventually left and I went around the back to see if I could find anyone else. And this time I did.

It was security. They were called by the secretary, who saw me put my hand through the mail slot, and thought I was trying to commit a B & E - breaking and entering. Apparently, it's custom for a church to be closed the Monday after Easter Sunday and since the church has a daycare and Pre-K and Kindergarten class, the secretary became worried. I admit, sticking my hand through the mail slot wasn't the best idea, but I was just trying to find a way to give the $10 bucks to the church offering. The secretary and security personal found my story of telling God I would put whatever money I found on the street a little weird and a little odd, even after I showed them the mud-stained, crinkled dollar. But it was the honest-to-God truth!

Walking home, I wondered what went wrong. I mean, the $10 had to be a sign. Nobody finds $10 on the street, out of the blue. Especially after promising to give it to God. I felt depressed all over again. I tried to do something with good intentions and it totally backfired. I don't know what went wrong. But as soon as I turned my computer on, I got an email for an interview for a front desk position, this Friday! No good deed, goes unpunished. If only my black cripple friend with the bad weave were here to say, "God bless us, everyone..."

hope

It's been almost three weeks since I got that un-fateful call, that told me my services for the store, the store I had changed my entire life for, were no longer needed. And since that time, I've been searching relentlessly for a job. I'm not ready to move back to Tucson. I know, the easiest and probably most obvious answer, would be to call my parents and let them know that I have been fired and that I don't have the slightest idea of what I'm doing.

But a part of me doesn't want to.

Part of me, wants to hold out and wait for as long as I can. To see how far I can go, all on my own. You know, before I have to call mommy and daddy.

I want to take care of myself. I want to be able to live on my own. To make my own rules. To live my own life.

But it's been hard when no one responds to your applications or your resume. You start to lose faith. You start to lose hope. You start to wonder if you are indeed doing the right thing or if you're just being foolish and stubborn. And with the one month of being unemployed in a city far away from home fast approaching, that's what I've been wondering.

Should I give myself a deadline? Something along the lines of, if I can't find a job by a certain time, I should give up? I mean, it wouldn't be fair to my roommate Gwen if I just stuck around the apartment, rent free. Already, she's spent quite a lot this month. Her truck needed an overhaul, she cracked a tooth in half from eating day-old popcorn and found out she has two cavities and needs a filling. Her idiot-dog chewed her entire comforter and bed sheets to shreds and if that wasn't bad enough, the idiot-dog ate something out of the trash and threw up all over the living room, which got real deep into the carpet.

So as Gwen continues to live her lavish lifestyle, I find myself in a situation only Zack and Miri could understand. But I could never bring myself to do a porno. Of course, easier said then done, right? I was thinking this to myself as I walked the streets of downtown to fill out an application for a front desk position at the Hyatt Hotel. And right there, on the corner of Van Buren St. and Ogden Ave. at the bus stop, was a quote imprinted at the top of the awning:

"Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."
--Harriet Beecher Stowe

It was just the kind of a sign, only fate could have put before me. And it was just the kind of hope I needed. Wish me luck...

great and wonderful things

So, I'm back on the job hunt. I never thought I'd be back here, humbling myself to be worthy to the unworthy of Milwaukee. But I am. I so wanted to be here so much, I'm swallowing all my pride and applying for jobs I would have never given a second thought. Cafeteria worker at a nursing home. Custodian technician at a daycare center. Wal-Mart. All of which, are very respectable ways of earning money, but it's not the way I ever saw myself earning money.

When I was in the third grade, my teacher Ms. Cloud, gave us an assignment to write a one page essay, in cursive, what we wanted to be when we grew up and why. Greg Scotts said he wanted to be a garbage man because they make a lot of money. Kylie Byrd said she wanted to own a jewelry store, like her mother, that way she could make a lot of money and wear all the gold jewelry she wanted to. I wrote that I wanted to be an archeologist. Just like Indiana Jones. It wasn't the thrill of finding ancient Biblical artifacts that enticed me. It was the sense of adventure.

When it comes to jobs, I'm not attracted to the amount of money it offers (although it does help!). I'm more interested in the work and whether or not I'll enjoy doing it on a day to day basis. Because if I don't enjoy what I'm doing, then it'll show in my work and then obviously, nobody's happy.

But I guess this is all part of living in your twenties; taking on meaningless, mediocre jobs just to get by and help you survive until you get to your thirties. At least, that's what it seems so far. I don't want to be in my thirties and find myself in this same stressful situation. It's not fun.

A week before I was born, my mother and father went to an old fashioned fire and brimstone revival. You know, one of those repent your sins or burn in a lake of fire type things. And during the pastor's sermon, he stopped mid-verse and made his way down to where my parents sat. He told them, God compelled his spirit to let them know that the baby inside my mom would do great and wonderful things and that the baby would be a boy and that his name would be David. This shocked my mom and dad, who hadn't the slightest idea what the sex of their unborn baby was.

They had already decided to name me Michael if I was a boy or Diamond if I was a girl (According to my mom, Diamond is listed in the Bible as the daughter of some big legacy family. And though that may be true, let's face it...it would have left my future career possibilites limited, if you know what I mean), but listened to the young pastor and, well, that's how I got my name.

Now if I can only figure out what great and wonderful thing I'm supposed to be doing. That's what's been heavy on my mind for the past week. That and wondering whether or not my current unemployment fits into that plan. I still haven't told my family that I got fired, only because, I still don't know what to say. Right before I got that un-fateful phone call, I was just telling my family over Google Video Chat, that I was excited about the opening of the store and finally working again. Guess I spoke too soon.

And it's humiliating having to admit defeat, yet again, because it does make me wonder, what exactly am I doing wrong, that people just don't want me working for them? If I could pinpoint the problem and learn from it, I could move on and get onto my great and wonderful future, instead of being stuck in despair and hopelessness.

fired!

So...I've been fired. Yeah. Not even joking. We've had to delay the opening of the store for a while (it just opened today, finally!) because my boss is majorly stupid. So I haven't really been working this entire time. I've just been collecting my unemployment. Which I was okay with. You know? I knew it wasn't gonna be forever so I was fine with it. And I was making some hours at the store, but I wasn't going to cash them in until after we opened, because I still wanted to collect my unemployment.

This past Sunday, however, after getting my first paycheck on Friday, after signing all the paperwork, my boss, Blu, calls her brother, Mike Lightyear, the guy that recommended me for the job, and tells him I am neither energetic or outgoing and not a good fit for the store. I'm not even joking. Me! Not energetic! Or outgoing! THE FUCK?!?!

When I heard that, I wanted to shit myself. I am so outgoing. I have energy for days. Anymore and I would be on crack, you know? And the reason Mike wanted to tell me, instead of Blu, was because he felt it was his responsibility since he had recommended me for the job. So, he said, I would no longer work there and that I had to improve on my energy for my next job if I "ever want to make it in this economy."

I don't buy it all. I am energetic. Fuck, I'm the best employee there is, or rather, was, at that store! I know labels, I know clothes and styles, I'm the only one who knows how to fully work the registers...I have years of retail experience. More so than Blu, who couldn't tell the difference between fake Louis Vuitton and real leather. So, if anything, I was fired for being too competent. But it doesn't matter anymore. The thing that does matter? I'm seriously fucked over.

And soon, Gwen will be too. After talking to Mike, I told Gwen everything and she was immediately in shock. Nothing Mike told me was true. And it scared her, because Mike gave Gwen the same type of talk. Apparently, Blu told Mike Gwen was never on time, she always left without saying anything and was basically a miserable excuse as a manger. Again, not true. I know Gwen has been busting her ass for the store and I've seen firsthand, the stress it has given her, so for Blu to call and say it's pathetic is so aggravating. It won't be long before we're sharing the same boat.

I'm all the way across the country away from my family, away from everything and everyone I know and I'm jobless. I don't know how I'm gonna pay rent, how I'm gonna eat or, well, basically survive. I don't know what to do. I've been looking on Craigslist and Monster.com for jobs, but I haven't heard back. And it sucks even more because I don't have a car. My mode of transportation in Tucson, because the job I was supposed to have is only two blocks away from my apartment, so there was no need for a car. But now? Fuck...

So, I don't know what to do right now. I'm just really scared and I don't know what to tell my family. I was just talking to them on Sunday telling them we were opening on Thursday and I was excited and now everything is just...gone. Just, gone.

mid-west, my way

The other week, I had time off and since my good friend Hadassah was on Spring Break, we decided to meet up in Chicago. And it was one of the best times I have ever had in a very long time.

I took the Megabus from Milwaukee to Chicago, which is this bus people in the Mid-West take to get from cornfield to city. It's like a regular bus, except the Mexicans and Black people try to sell you bootleg DVD's. Which isn't so bad, especially since I really haven't had time to go see Coraline.

We stayed at The Avenue Hotel, off of Magnificent Mile, which is a really beautiful avenue with great shopping and amazing restaurants like The Ralph Lauren Bar & Grill Restaurant, which is designed to look like a classic English library.We actually spent the first night sleeping in the hotel room. The pillows were so soft and the beds were so inviting, a quick catnap turned into an all night snooze fest. So much for painting the town red.

But we awoke the next morning, refreshed and rejuvinated and set out to explore the city. We ate at the world famous Lou Mitchell's, visited the Shedd Aquarium, rode the Red Line to Chinatown and pub crawled in Wrigleyville. And before we knew it, the weekend was over and it was time for Hadassah to visit Milwaukee, my new home.

Showning my new home and the way I live was very exciting for me. I got to show and share with my friend where I shopped for food, how I spent my evenings, and basically how I lived my new life. I've never been able to do that before, mostly because I've always lived in the same city. I felt like such a grown up, like a citizen of the world. And since Gwen knew Hadassah from back home, it was like having a small Tucson reunion in our small apartment. And it was made even better when Hadassah cooked us an authentic Mexican dinner, a la Tucson style. God, how much I miss food cooked with real butter.

Gwen and I decided to spend Hadassah's last night in the Mid-West in Chicago for St. Patrick's, more specifically, Wrigleyville. So, we met up with Gwen's cousin Gabriella and her boyfriend John. We started off at Harry Caray's Tavern

and ended up at Houndstooth Bar, making sure to hit every bar and pub on the way for Irish Car Bombs. By mid-afternoon, we were so wasted and so gone and so was my iPhone. Gwen lost her cell phone too and her jacket and by the looks of things, I doubt either one of us will ever see those things again. I also ended up with the strangest bruises I don't remember getting, which led to painful swelling and a cankle. Gross.Yet? I wouldn't change any part of my weekend for anything!

three's not company

Last week, Gwen and I got a new roommate. It was her dog Emma, from back home. Gwen's cousin Gabriella moved to Chicago and took Emma along for the drive. I knew Gwen was bringing along her dog, since we looked for an apartment that was dog friendly, for both our dogs. Only, I didn't know how big her dog was.

When we arrived at Gabriella's brownstone in Lincoln Park, I finally got to see Emma for the first time. A big, black border collie mix that had full run of the first floor. None of Emma's furniture was moved in yet, so Emma was able to run across the foyer, the living room and the open kitchen. Immediately, I began to wonder how well she would fare in our tiny apartment. A dog that size needs room to run around and stuff. And though our back door does lead down to a flight of stairs and an open backyard, there is no fence that blocks our backyard from the side of the building and to the open street.

After we got back home from Chicago, the damaging effects of having a new "roommate", began to unfold. To Gwen, Emma is an adorable spaz. To me, Emma is a big, fat, slobbering idiot. Like Marmaduke or Beethoven, only not as charming or witty or box-office worthy. She chews on everything. Everything. And the reason behind that is because Gwen spoils her like she's worth it. Before Emma came, Gwen spent over $150 on toys and treats at Petsmart, which, if you ask me, was money not well spent. Especially since Emma is nowhere near trained. Or even smart. The other day, she did the exact same thing as the dog in the following video.

She doesn't listen to Gwen, she destroys her toys to oblivion and leaves large pieces of stuffing all over the floor, and she eats out of the trash. Sure, she's only two years old, so she's still in her puppy phase, but if you take a week, like this week, while Gwen is on her period, it's gross coming home and seeing a menstrual blood-stained tampon greeting you on the bathroom floor. But Gwen shrugs it off, as she rubs Emma's head and says, "Oh Emmy Spaghetti..."

What's most upsetting is that I'm the one having to watch Emma. With the opening of the store just a few days away, Gwen has been super busy making sure all important documents are being processed, all licenses are up to code, and that our first day of business is nothing but smooth sailing. She's gone for hours at a time, driving all across town, leaving Emma all alone with me. Not that I don't like helping out from time to time, but it's getting a little overwhelming. I didn't come all the way to Milwaukee to be a dog walker.

It would suck worse, if Gwen didn't constantly thank me for helping her out, but I just can't stand her dog. She's one of the worst dog's I've ever met. She doesn't bite me or bark out of control. She's just annoying. Last week, I found my "Special Limited Edition 'Friends' DVD Party Box Set" recipe cards that I got as a graduation present from my aunt, ripped and torn and strewn all across the living room floor. Emma found it in the living room bookcase and just had it. It made me so mad, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I mean, I couldn't hit the dog, without having my face posted across national TV and being labeled as an animal abuser. So, I took the higher approach.

I stopped paying attention to Emma. I stopped petting her. I stopped rubbing her stomach. I stopped throwing her toys for her to run after and bring back. And if you have ever had a puppy before, you know that ignoring them is absolutely killer to them. But I didn't care. Those recipe cards were only sold at Target in 2004, when Friends ended its 10 year run on television! They don't make them anymore! UGH!

And the thing is, I love dogs. I even have one back home, whom I miss, oh, so much. Lucy would never pull any of the shenanigans that Emma pulls. Of course, she could never reach the inside of a trashcan, but that's not the point. Lucy listens. She only squeaks her toys and never tears them up in a million pieces. And she's smart enough to know used tampons don't taste like cherry-flavored tootsie roll pops.

So, if any of you are wondering how I'm doing in Milwaukee, yes, I am having a mental fight with a dog. And yes, I miss Lucy.

testing, one, two, three

Last week, my roommate Gwen and I were doing our weekly grocery shopping, when we walked down the personal hygiene aisle and saw the two for one condom sale. Double the amount of protected sex for the price of a Venti Caramel Macciatto. That's when Gwen made the comment that every time she's hung out with Jack, he's always had a new package of condoms on the coffee table. Ew. And yet she still went over to his house. Gross.

Apparently, Gwen had been seeing Jack again. She wanted to let him know, more than anything, if they decided to stop having sex, she cherished his friendship for she saw a smart and kind soul in him. Guess the sex was that good. Still, I pointed out to Gwen that condoms last for a while, as obvious to the one I have from middle school. If he was constantly changing them out, it was obvious he was using them with other people. And that's when Gwen said it was good he was using protection, because the three times they had sex, they never used a condom.

Jack said he was clean and Gwen knew she was on birth control, so of course, all was good. And then after they had sex, they rode off onto a rainbow on their matching glittering unicorns, while eating non-weight gaining, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. At her age, did she really believe everything a guy told her? And if that was true then Gwen really needed to get tested and see if she was a walking sexually transmitted disease.

So, she made an appointment, for both her and myself. She said it would be a fun-roommate-bonding-type thing to do. Yeah. Because knowing if whether or not you'll have to take large amounts of Kaletra or Hydrea for the rest of your life is always fun. I didn't wanna take the test. Not that I've been having a lot of sex, but if you only knew how they administer the test to men, you wouldn't want to take it either. Plus, who wants to hear they have gonorrhea? And if nothing itches or smells funny, then it should all be good, right?

Thursday night, we went to the free clinic. It was so nerve wracking to sit in an empty doctor's office, awaiting for my number to be called and have a college-aged medical professional tell me my fate. And yet, Gwen seemed to remain calm. She wasn't worried. She felt healthy, so she was obviously okay. But I was healthy too, so why I was worried? I wasn't the one having unprotected sex and that weird cough I got the other week was because I was just thirsty. Right? Right?! Unfortunately, I never found out because when my number was called, they discovered they "were all out of free tests," which let me breathe a big sigh of relief. So, they sent both Gwen and I to BestD on Brady, a gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and questioning friendly testing center, where apparently it was boys night out. Or girls night, depending on how one views such things.

At this clinic, patients were called out by a series of three letters of their choosing. Gwen chose G-E-N and I chose W-T-F. Why the flip was I doing this again? For a "fun" roommate bonding experience? At that point, I realized maybe Gwen asked me to do the test with her because deep down, she knew she could have something since she wasn't having safe sex. I immediately felt better. Call it schendenfreude if you will, but I felt this wave of tranquility come over me and I knew my test would come out negative, in the good way. And it did. And so did Gwen's test, who cried tears when she got her results. Except, she had to stay a little bit longer with a counselor who explained to her the dangers of unprotected sex. Apparently, Milwaukee ranks as the number one city in the U.S. for chlamydia and number three for gonorrhea. Guess we know now, how folks here pass the time during the winter months.

So, Gwen and I decided to abstain from sex during our time here. It makes sense, since apparently head cheese grows as rapid as the cheese they cultivate here. And with that lovely image burned into your head, it's time to end this post.

the short end of the long truth

The other day, the sun came out and the entire city was drenched by the warm glow of a February sun. The snow began to melt, leaving behind grungy-looking snow, and allowed all green and human life to finally come out of its winter hiding place. It was a sure sign, that the city streets and sidewalks would soon be filled with people. And maybe this time, with everything and everyone out in the open, it would be much easier to meet people, unlike my previous experience.

I walked down North Avenue and headed west to the lake, also known as Lake Michigan. It was such a perfect day. I could already see myself sipping an insulated cup of white mocha while walking down the path that followed the river and having one of those worldly intellectual thoughts that are usually reserved for the hero of a critically acclaimed, Hollywood movie. So, I made a quick stop at Alterra, a local coffee shop, housed in the historic Milwaukee River Flushing Station. That's when some random guy told me they knew I wasn't from around here. I didn't know whether this was a compliment or a diss, but I was rocking out my new vintage, navy blue peacoat I picked up in Chicago, so I knew I looked good, either way.

His name was Sydney and he was a speech and linguistics major and when he heard me say "milk" instead of "melk" like so many Milwaukee-ians do, he knew I wasn't from around these parts. I agreed and told him "Wis-can-sin" was not my home of origin and we just started talking. Apart from having a degree in linguistics, he was also a bakery manager for a locally owned supermarket and a budding Hollywood screenwriter.

The last one totally made me roll my eyes, too. One opinion published in a local newspaper, and soon everyone thinks they're a writer destined for Hollywood. But as it turns out, Sydney actually was. He started writing a story about a guy named Helmut, that he met online through a dare, who in the course of four months changed his life altogether. They never met in person, since they were cities, almost world's apart, but they ended up becoming best friends, before Helmut died of pancreatic cancer. Before he died, Helmut told Sydney a story worthy of an Aaron Spelling soap opera: his mother was a prostitute and because of her busy and odd hours, he became a father to his baby sister, who died when she was only nine and then, when his mother was no longer of an attractive and desirable age, she allowed her landlord/lover to have his way with Helmut in lieu of rent, before the landlord/lover became angry and hung her to death in the bathroom, before he himself was shot to death by Helmut who witnessed the whole thing and did it out of self-defense, before the police unloaded their guns into his body, which resulted in a blotched surgery that may or may not have resulted to his cancer. I counted at least a dozen bewildered looks from customers who passed by, as Sydney told his story.

At first, Sydney wrote the story for himself. Then he shared it with friends who in turned shared it with their friends. Before long, the story made its way to an agent who immediately got in touch with Sydney and suggested he sell his story to a movie studio, before turning it into a book. Twelve film directors and three screenwriters later, Sydney was a mere touch away from finally having his story put onto the silver screen, but like all things in the glamorous world of Hollywood, these things take time.

I, of course, took everything he said, with a proverbial grain of salt, because who can really believe everything they hear? Take me, for example. You know my old boss, Alice? The one whose husband, Azten was arrested last March for allegedly being involved in a double homicide, so while he waited in jail for a trial, she was busy raising two daughters and gave birth to their first baby boy five months later, before she stiffed me out my paychecks, purposely ruined my credit and ultimately laid me off right before the holidays, all because she refused to stop living the costly lifestyle she had become accustomed to? Yeah, that one? Well, believe it and the update:

Azten was found guilty. On both counts of murder. A friend of a friend who was the present sheriff in the courtroom told me, officials played recorded phone calls that had Azten telling Alice what her alibi should be and what their friend's alibi's should be. Guess both Azten and Alice didn't know prison phone calls were personal. But the pieces fell even before then, during a climatic moment when Azten's mistress took the stand and gave the exact alibi, verbatim, that Azten told Alice to tell their friend. Even if he was innocent, the fact that Azten had people lie on oath for him, with undeniable evidence, was enough for the judge to give him two life terms for each murder, with the possibility of parole after a twenty five year period. His life is over. Even if he does get out after twenty five years, he'll be over 60 years old, with a damaging record that will most likely prevent him from holding a substantial job position and his family, especially his son, will never recognize him as an outstanding father.

But besides the incriminating phone records, there was also the blatant fact that the flower shop his wife ran and that I used to work for, was actually a front for his real-life drug business. No joke. A small part came out during the trial, but was thrown out for irrelevance in the shootings. And though it was small, it was still big to me. All at once, I remembered that there were a few shady characters from time to time that came in asking for Azten or Alice, but then again, the flower shop was located downtown, which is home to some of the most colorful characters a city could ever have. But shady enough to be involved with drugs? Sure, I joked about it with friends when we had roses flown in specifically from Brazil, but who knew the jokes held some truth?

how to succeed in friendship without really trying

When it comes to making new friends, it's not so different or outside the realm of dating. In both scenarios, you're dealing with the same thing; you're meeting new people, hoping to find a common interest that will allow you to forge a relationship with that person and have them in your life for a period of time. The only difference is, you hope to go home with one of them, at the end of the night. Well, maybe both, but as Harry and Sally once showed us, it's never a good idea to sleep with friends. And if someone like Manuel Uribe, the world's heaviest man, can find someone, then so should I.

I took a lot of your guys' advice and decided to just put myself out there, fully and completely. I was going to go to a pub and just sit there all day, despite having to inhale copious amounts of second hand smoke, because, really, what's the use of breathing good, clean, fresh air, if you have to do it all alone? I even had a day picked out: Friday, a day when people are looking to unwind and welcome a stress-free, relaxing weekend.

They say the key to finding someone or something you really want, is prospecting. Good business people know that and that's why they're so successful. So, by implementing my new business strategy, I was ready to go out and find some strangers who were a drink, a laugh, and an inappropriate touch away from being a friend.

But then, my plans at the very last minute, when my manager, Blu, asked Gwen and I to take a trip out to the Windy City, Chicago, and pick up some items for the store. Being only 95 miles away, the drive wasn't that long, but neither was the day. There was so much to do, so much to see, and not enough time to do it all. But we did manage to squeeze in a drive-by to the Harpo Studios and enjoy an entire large Chicago- style deep dish pizza at the world-famous, Lou Malnati's Pizzeria. And while enjoying the city that brought us all that jazz, I used my business strategy to talk to everyone and ended up getting a phone number to hang out later that night. Of course, I wouldn't use it, because I'm looking for more local friends, but at least I was on the right track.

That night, it snowed. And in the morning, a sparkling blanket of white snow welcomed everyone in Milwaukee, starting off one of the most cheesiest and romantically inclined day of the year on a high note. Anything and everything seemed possible. Like making a new friend. And that's just what I did as I made my way through the city. And while walking through my new neighborhood, someone approached me. Guess she saw a possible friend in the making.

Turns out, she wasn't. Her name was Brihanna and somehow, with tears in her eyes and runny mucas in her nose, she told me she had just had her boyfriend arrested for kicking and going all Chris Brown on her and had absolutely no means of getting back home to her two-year-old. She offered to sell me her cell phone for money, but I haven't carried cash since Visa foolishly allowed me into their Platinum Status club. So, instead I asked her if she wanted to go to KFC and talk about it. Normally, KFC wouldn't be my first choice in comfort food, but it was just down the street and chicken fried in 11 herbs and spices did sound good.

After chicken and chatting, I made a new friend. A drama queen, but a friend nonetheless. I left Brihanna with $10 and my email and told her I hoped she found her way back home. A couple hours later, Gwen came home and I was so excited to tell her about finding a new friend. But Gwen wasn't interested in my story, because some random girl came out of an alleyway, crying and telling her that she just had her boyfriend arrested for kicking and going all Chris Brown on her and had absolutely no means of getting back home to her two-year-old. She even offered Gwen, her cell phone for money...and that's when I knew I befriended a crackhead. After moving here, we were told by people that the area of town we moved into, Riverwest, used to be an old crack neighborhood, but was now up and coming with artists and musicians. Guess, they all haven't moved out yet and I guess I'll keep on looking.

you don't got a friend in me

When you decide to move to a new city and leave behind everything and everyone you know, the hardest thing to do isn't finding out who has the best late night Chinese food or finding out where the hottest place to be on Saturday night is. No. The hardest thing to do is making new friends.

Sure, I don't really need new friends, since my old friends back home will always be there for me, but it's not the same when you can only talk to them through a web cam or the phone. As a society, we need human interaction. Yes, to the non-socializers, being able to be alone with one's thoughts has immense appeal, but it's not enough to survive and grow as a person.

The only thing is, I don't know how to make a new friend. Before, in the past, I made new friends through school, work, that sorta thing. And before then, it was even easier when you just had to go up someone on the playground and tell them they would be your "best-est friend". But now, as an adult? It just gets harder. Especially in a city like Milwaukee.

During my brief stint of living here, I've come to the conclusion that there are two types of people living in this city. People that were born here and continue to live here and the people who moved to live here. The latter are really friendly and open to meeting new people, but the former, who are friendly as well, are very clique-y and their friendliness is just for show. For them, it seems that their lives are set. As if they've accepted that along with their native friends, they were born into the cold, will live in the cold and die with the cold.

My suspicions were confirmed, last Saturday night when my roommate Gwen and I went to the über edgy sports bar, Zim's, a sports bar that had every one of its plasma flat screen TV's on mute, so as not to disturb the pulsating club music playing through the sound system. It was there that we met Christy, a thirtysomething friend of a friend that knew Gwen. Christy moved to the city over a decade ago, when she decided to follow her heart and marry her college sweetheart, which resulted in a baby girl and a divorce. Gwen gave us the low down of the city, from how low the crime rate has dropped, to where to get the best sushi. It was a crash course in Milwaukee 101, which even included my theory of Milwaukee natives and non-natives.Turns out I was right.

Which makes sense, if you think about the people Gwen and I have met. There's, Sara, who grew up in Michigan and went to the University of Arizona for her bachelor's degree in Child Pyschology. There's Adam, who grew up in Atlanta and attended college with Sara at the U of A, and his girlfriend Beth, who grew up in Boston and now studies law at the University of Wisconsin. Then, there's the infamous Jack, who grew up in Milwaukee and went to school in Atlanta with a friend who knows Adam, but recently moved back to Milwaukee to work for his father's advertising company. Out of all our new friends, guess which one is the least friendliest?

Sure, Jack and Gwen share a recent history of a one-night stand gone horribly wrong (on Gwen's part, anyways), which could explain the cold shoulder and the slim possibilty of Jack becoming our friend. However, a week after bumping their uglies together, Jack started texting Gwen. Short, simple texts, with an occasional phone call that asked how her day was going, how work was going, yada, yada, yada. The text messages then evolved into future plans, like asking Gwen out for dinner or just to hang out, but each and every time, Jack cancels, saying "a friend dropped by unexpectedly" or "I'm so wiped." And each and every time, Gwen, who puts so much hope and emotion into each and every text message, becomes devastatingly crushed.

So, now, I am on a quest to find some new friends, preferably ones that aren't drama. The only problem, is, how? I'm not working yet, since the store isn't open yet, it's too late to sign up for classes at the university and too cold to meet anyone on the street. Craigslist? M seeking M/W, platonically?

...and the drama continues

So if dealing with a roommate who doesn't understand the concept of a one-night stand isn't enough drama, there's the case of the clueless boss.

Her name is Blu and according to my friend Hadassah, she is the black sheep of the Lightyear family. The Lightyear family has had a long tradition of being one of the wealthiest families back home in Tucson with coffee and business real estate enterprises. Their oldest daughter Blu, who used to be a Wicca-practicing, lesbian, left Tucson 10 years ago to Milwaukee, her family's original home. Since then, she's stopped practicing magic and lesbianism and married a advertising web developer guy named Reese, with whom she has two kids.

Back in Tucson, Blu used to work at Buffalo Exchange, a retail clothing store that bought new, gently used, and vintage clothing from people and resold it in their store. She had always loved the concept of the store and knew it would be a big hit in a college city like Milwaukee. So, with her friend Flower, Blu decided to open up a used clothing/consignment store. Originally, she decided to go to a bank and take out a small business loan. But then, her grandfather, the patriarch of the elusive Lightyear family caught wind of her business plan and decided to help out as a silent partner.

He helped out so much, in fact, that his "voice" became louder and the store project became a personal project, one that the whole family could get involved. Blu's concept of a funky, one-of-a-kind retail store became lost and the whole project became commercial, with Susan, Blu's interior decorator sister, spending close to $19,000 in lighting alone. Yeah. $19,000.

Blu took a giant step back and watched her dream store become into something else. Something, she just could not be a part of. I asked Blu why she stayed so quiet and didn't go to her grandfather to tell him he was taking over more than a silent partner should. That's when she revealed to me and Gwen that her Grandfather was broke. He had filed for personal and business bankruptcy and only had about $20,000 left to his name. The Lightyear dynasty was slowly coming to an end. The reason Blu's grandfather had taken so much interest in the store was because he had decided he didn't want to end his life with a series of failures. All the businesses he had created his whole life were now gone and if he could end with one last hurrah, maybe he wouldn't be such a failure after all.

So, Gwen and I decided to encourage Blu to take a stand against her grandfather. We told her, that if the store didn't have a spirit, there would be no way it would flourish. It's my personal belief, that in order for a small business to be successful, you have to believe whole heartedly in what you're selling. All your time and energy is crucial in the first few months, because if a business doesn't have heart or passion, then it's just a building full of stuff, that will go nowhere.

Now, Gwen and I regret our decision.

After having a series of conversations with her grandfather, Blu has fully stepped back into the store project and has seem to forgotten about me and Gwen. On several occassions, she has left my name out when talking to Gwen about setting up a work schedule, while standing in front of me. She's even went out and hired a new employee, because she looked "so artsy and cool." I was told, that since the store is just starting out, it would only have five employees, but now, with this sixth member, I hope it doesn't mean cut hours. The biggest blow came, when she questioned me about my fashion choice selections, as if reading GQ was so passe and How to Make Clothes Out of Hemp 101 was in. She even talked to Gwen about relocating her in three months to open up a new store in Madison, Wisconsin or even Atlanta, Georgia which has stressed Gwen out even more, because she feels as if Blu is trying to phase her out of the store as a manager of the store. Considering the fact that we both moved across the country, leaving behind everyone and everything we know, it's a little scary.

The way Blu acts and says things, is very mind boggling. Hadassah says, her brain isn't all there since the drug usage she did in her teens affected the way she thinks today. She assured me, the fact that the grandfather took over, was a sign that everyone in the Lightyear family knew she couldn't pull off running a successful business. That's why they sent me and Gwen. She assured me, Gwen and I needn't worry and that we would still have jobs. But if that's true, why do I still have this uneasy feeling in my stomach? I already dealt with one employer who filed for bankruptcy, and we all know how that turned out. I'm just wondering if this is my sign to leave or my chance to show my courage?

text and the single girl

One of the things I promised myself, when I moved to Milwaukee was to shop locally. Buy produce from this farmer, buy a loaf of bread from this baker, that sorta thing. Just like they do in the unrealistic movies and television shows about single people living in a city. And what's nice about living in an up and coming neighborhood in Milwaukee, is that, everything is within walking distance. The only thing is, since I've never really shopped for groceries, I don't know how much of what, I should buy or keep stocked.

Thankfully, Gwen, being a single apartment dweller for a few years knew exactly what to buy and even managed to show me a few new things. Like how to make stir fry on a modest budget, how to incorporate pasta into every meal and the many uses for baguette bread. Apparently, not only is it good with a plate of various cheeses, but it seems, a baguette is good for bagging men who want absolutely nothing to do with you. And that's just what she did the other night.

After spending the night with Jack, Gwen returned to the apartment with a look of bliss on her face. Somebody obviously got laid. And what should have been a one time, simple night of lust, turned into a week of insanity. It started when Jack drove Gwen home and became livid, when she couldn't remember the exact directions back home. That should have been the first sign, that their dirty deed was nothing more than a one-night stand and that he simply was not interested. But to Gwen, it wasn't so obvious.

She kept texting, leaving voicemails, even sending a couple of emails, all to no avail. Why won't he call me back, she kept saying. I, along with many sexually, single active adults in the world knew that it was a one night stand, nothing more, nothing less. But to Gwen it made no sense. She couldn't understand why he made plans with her to meet up for dinners and peruse through art fairs and museums, even after they had sex.

I explained it was just a guy thing. He faked a future to get what he wanted in the present. Though the whole doing it after sex, was completely bizarre and new to me. I felt bad for Gwen. It's never good to be on the bad end of a one night stand and despite the fact that she did it with someone she barely knew, I still felt bad for her. Especially since she became an emotional wreck. She ignored my advice of forgetting Jack and walking away with what little dignity she had left. Instead, she sent another text:

"Hey Jack. It's me. Are you free tonight? I'd like to make you dinner, so let me know!"

It was so clingy, so pathetic, I could barely read the text without rolling my eyes and wonder how I was living with a desperate and needy person. And to think, I actually thought she was once cute. Ah, so young, so naive.

"Hey. Can't tonight. I'm gonna eat leftovers and then maybe go back to work. Some other time?"

It couldn't have been more obvious, than if he had painted the text on a brick wall and Gwen ran into it. What was she not getting? He's. Not. Interested. Was I seriously the only one that understood this? Later that night, Gwen decided to go to the store alone, claiming she needed to learn how to set up the clothing racks, before we opened and took with her, a light Parisian meal of grapes, cheese, prosciutto and of course, a baguette. While there, she text Jack again, saying she was by herself, at the store and had "a light meal for two". He, of course, came up with a lame excuse and passed on her dinner.

I'm starting to think, I should monitor her text messages.

the milwaukee blues

So, it's officially been one week that I moved out of my house, flew over 1800 miles to a new city and started a new life in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

I LOVE this city!

There are churches with tall steeples and local breweries on almost every corner. The houses all have tiny porches, with ornate wood details and a blanket of white, sparkling snow covers everything. The French, German, and Dutch influences on the architecture really make the city picturesque and idyllic, as if Walt Disney himself had designed it all for an unnamed themed land in one of his parks. And the weather isn't so bad. I really thought, that being a child of the desert, my body would go into shock and I would end up looking like Jack Dawson in that frozen ocean scene from Titanic, with blue-tinted skin and tiny, frozen icicles in my hair. But so far I'm good.

Our little apartment, is exactly just that - little. My old bedroom was as big as our living room, our sun room and my new bedroom combined. Now? It's this tiny square-looking thing with a tiny radiator and a tall window that faces a brick wall. Yet, somehow? I absolutely love it! I dont know it's the old-fashioned claw foot bathtub, or the tiny kitchen with the gas stove or how our back door leads down a flight of steps into a big backyard of soft white snow, or the simple fact that it's my apartment, but I absolutely love it all!

Gwen, the old manager from the coffee shop across my old job and the new manager of the store that I'm working for, had been living in the apartment already for a week, when I got there. The temperature was well into the negative territory, so her exploration of the city had been very limited. But after I arrived, the weather cleared and the city of beer and cheese was our oyster! We discovered local farmer markets and local breweries, like Lakefront Brewery, that had magnificently tasting beer. I, myself, have never preferred the taste of beer, thinking it was nothing more than bottled piss, but the beer here is actually flavorful and delicious. I think it has something to do with the fact that it's made in smaller quantities and doesn't need to have so many perservatives to last longer.

And thanks to the magic of beer, Gwen and I have made new friends; Sara and Jack. Sara grew up in Michigan and attended the University of Arizona back home, while Jack grew up in Milwaukee and recently just moved back after graduating from a school in Atlanta with a friend who knew both Gwen and Sara. If it was a movie, a director would have deemed the moment too coincidental for the film, but this was real life, and as we all know, life is a series of coincidences. The only thing that worries me about our new friends is, how determined Jack seems to be, in getting with Gwen and how easily Gwen is falling under his ruse.

Back in Tucson, Gwen left behind her boyfriend Ron of four years. She confided in me the other night that she didn't think her relationship with Ron would work out since long distance things never do. Gwen had no idea when she would return and when they parted, she left with the idea that her relationship with Ron had run its course and that they were no longer bound to each other. Ron, on the other hand, parted with the idea that the distance between them would make their hearts grow fonder and told everyone he knew in Tucson that the moment Gwen returned, he would propose. Gwen knew about his proposal, but ignored it. The very idea that someone back home was waiting for me to return and start a whole new life with them would have sent my heart soaring. But instead, it made Gwen run - run into the arms of Jack. And after a light dinner at Stonefly Brewery with our new friends, that's exactly what Gwen did, after she asked me if I had my house keys.

I was left to walk the block back to our home. Ultimately, it was Gwen's decision on how she chose to live her life, since I certainly cannot tell her who she can and can't see, but I couldn't help but think she was making a very terrible and very irreversible choice. And then it hit me. I'm an adult. A full-grown, tax-paying, choice-making, living-on-my-own adult. No more will I wake up again in my bed and see my family at the breakfast table. No more will I come home after school or work and ask my mom what's for dinner. I'm on my own now. I'll be making my own choices, my own decisions, because thats what adults like Gwen do in the real world. I guess a part of me knew this all along, but I never fully realized it until now. Kinda like when you hear that your favorite store is having a sale, but you never realize how good the sale is until you come home with bags after bags of new clothes.

I'm gonna be meeting new and different people and forming new and different relationships with them. Some of those relationships may fade, but some will last. And from those relationships that last, one will stick out more than the others and with it I'll be starting my own family, because that's how life goes. Gwen said people meet other people during the course of their life and form new relationships and ultimately change is inevitable. It was a true statement, but the boldness of it made me realize that the lives of my friends and family would move on without me.

I'm not a child anymore. I'm all grown up. And part of me wishes I could die right now, that way I can be forever young and have my life be just as it is, no more, no less. Just like James Dean. But then another part of me wants to see what the future has in store for me. To see where I'm going and how I get there. Everyone always talks about how liberating it is to be on your own, but no one ever mentions fear. The fear of realizing everything and everyone around you is changing and I know it sounds funny right now, but a part of me wishes my mom had fought harder to keep me in Tucson and a part of me wishes I would have actually listened.

Why is it that everyone around me seems to be able to move on to bigger and better things, yet I can't seem to just simply move? How does everyone do it? How does everyone make that transition into adulthood so smoothly? Is it just a facade of keeping up appearances or what? Because sometimes I do feel like a kid who's pretending to be an adult, just waiting for the red, velvet curtains to close the stage and end the play. Yet, I know, this isn't a play. This is real life. Am I just not as ready as I thought I was?

schlemiel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated

Somewhere, at an airport terminal in Texas, a young and wide-eyed traveler, ready to take on the world, but carrying way too much luggage, awaited his American Airline flight which would take him to Milwaukee and ultimately, his destiny.

That traveler, of course, is me.

In a mere matter of hours I will be in Milwaukee. Gwen, my new roommate, says an arctic blizzard is supposed to hit the area pretty soon. Hopefully it hits after I'm safe on the ground. Until then, I'm stuck waiting. Too bad my terminal isn't as fun as the one in the video, below.

Cool, huh? Is it just me, or do airport terminals seem like the first day of high school? You got the travelers who travel all around the world and know their way in and out, without missing a beat. They're the seniors. Then you got the freshman travelers who've never flown before and walk around with a scared and worried look, and continually look at their itineraries. Then you got the travelers like me. The ones who know just enough, to know what to expect and how to get where there going.

And I mean that both literally and figuratively. I don't know what Milwaukee has in store for me, but I know that if the people in Wisconsin really do talk like this, then I am going to have fun!

And for your consideration, I'm including some downloadable songs from an airplane mp3 mix a friend made for me. Maddie...the first one's for you.

1. For Good - LeAnn Rimes & Delta Goodrem
2. Twentysomething - Jamie Cullum
3. Purpose - The Original Broadway Cast of Avenue Q
4. Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson
5. Don't Stop Believing - Journey
6. Come Fly With Me - Michael Bublé
7. Leaving On A Jet Plane - Chantal Kreviazuk
8. Leavin' - Jag Star
9. Learning To Fly - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
10. I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing - Aerosmith
11. Moon River - Patty Griffin
12. Man From Milwaukee - Hanson
13. Love Is All Around - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
14. Making Our Dreams Come True - Cyndi Grecco (Theme from Laverne & Shirley)
15. Top Of The World - The Pussycat Dolls

decisions, decisions

Yesterday, I bought my plane ticket for Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I leave this Sunday! I contemplated whether or not I would arrive by plane or by train, and in the end, I decided a plane would be best, so I could have more time to be with the people I love.

And just as I was putting the final touches to my soon-to-be new life, another life was just ending. No sooner had I just finished reading my itenerary, then my grandma called. Someone close to our family had died. The lady that raised her step-brothers (my mom's step-uncles) had a stroke and died.

My grandma was in tears, and along with her broken English, it made it nearly impossible to understand her. But my aunts called soon after and that's when I learned an emergency family trip was being planned to El Paso, Texas for a weekend memorial/funeral service.

I only met the deceased once, when I was a mere child, so I don't have any memories of her. But now? Now that she's taking my family away from me to be with her, on my last weekend in Tucson? Well...one thing's for sure. I will remember this weekend for years to come.

I have until this evening to decide if I'm gonna stay in Tucson until Sunday or leave with my family to Texas and take a plane there to Milwaukee...

And just in case, any of you wondering, this is the current temperature in my new home.

goodbye home, hello unknown

The other day, I received a letter from my dad. I had spoken to him the day before, so it was a bit of a surprise to "hear" from again so soon. But it was a good surprise. Especially since he wrote me something, I needed to hear:

"It seems like you were always independent. Me and your mom gave you all the space you needed and tried to support you with your events that you enjoyed to do. David, me and your mom will always try to be there for you and will always love you. We want you to be happy whatever you may go on to do, just be careful in your choices."

Soon after I read the letter, my mom came home from work and told me that seeing me pack up all my belongings with total confidence gave her peace and comfort that I will be alright in a new city, all by myself. It was completely out of the blue and unexpected, but it's what I needed.

It hasn't phased me that in a few days time I will be leaving to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I'm leaving everything and everyone I know to live a life of unknowns. It's a little weird. And truth be told? I'm a little scared. I've never done anything like this before and I still do wonder if I'm doing the right thing or making the biggest regret of my life. But it's that little doubt in my head, that keeps me going and doing what I'm doing. My bags are packed, I'm ready to go. And luckily, my first unemployment check just came in. All I have to do now is decide on a date of when I want to move in, just so long as it's between next Saturday and February 15, when the store opens. After that, it's goodbye home, hello unknown!

the move

Since the beginning of time, there comes a moment that has been repeated in all species of the animal kingdom. That moment when the fledgling tries it's wings and flies away from the nest. In all corners of the globe, though the destination of the fledgling may be different, the scene and the motivation is the same: independence.

And that's exactly why I have been packing up my stuff for the past few days. Independence. So, it looks like I will be leaving Tucson and start a new life in Milwaukee, Wisconsin as a clothing buyer for a new store. And it hasn't been easy. But not for reasons, you may believe.

My mother has decided to go on a non-stop rampage to try and stop me from going to Milwaukee. Like, the other day, for example: I was packing up a box with all my personal belongings and was just finishing with the first layer of packing tape, when all of a sudden my mother freaks out about the tape I was using.

"What are you doing?! You're using very expensive carpet tape to tape your boxes?! No! Absolutely not! That tape is very expensive and very hard to find! No, I am sorry, but, you cannot use any more!"

Who knew we had priceless, expensive tape laying around in our house? Priceless tape that could not be purchased just at an ol' carpet store, you know? And I couldn't just go out and buy tape, since I am still broke and I am still waiting for my unemployment check to kick in, which has been really hard to get, since Alice, my boss, has been very uncooperative. My mother said was an obvious sign that I probably shouldn't move. If I can't afford tape, how can I afford life in another city?

The other day, she asked me if my future boss knew I wasn't a good worker. Yeah. Just like that: "Does your boss know you're not a good worker?"

I asked her what she meant by that, and apparently, she doesn't think I go the extra mile in my work. That I don't perform at an exceletory level. Ok, so "exceletory" isn't a real word, but the point still stands. She wasn't basing her bias opinion on my job performance at work. She was basing it on the work I do at home, which apparently isn't top-notch. At least, by her standards.

She's even told me, that once I'm gone she's converting my room into a family room, by knocking down the wall that's connected to the living room. More open space, as she calls it. More open space? That's what my room will be when I'm gone? Space?! Once my brother got word of her ideas, he started arguing with her claiming he was gonna make my bedroom, his, since he was the second to oldest. Then, my younger brother went off about how he was promised the bigger room when we moved again, and since I was moving, the promise still counted. My bed isn't even cold and the memory foam mattress still has my ass print on it, and already my family is fighting over my room.

Granted, it is a desirable room, because it used to be a dining room when we first moved into the house, and nobody wanted the room because it wasn't a typical "bedroom" and it had tile, not carpet, which made it less homely. Since, I was the last one to see the house, I didn't get dibs on any of the bedrooms, so I got stuck with it. And since that time, I've transformed it into a small studio apartment of sorts. I put in bookcases, a desk with a hutch, an armoir, a whole seating area with a club chairs and a big sleigh bed right in the middle. And now everyone wants it and soon every memory of me in that room will be just that - a memory.

In some twisted, demented, and deluded way, this is probably my family's way of making me give Milwaukee a second thought and to keep me from going. Especially my mother's idea. But I couldn't let her stop me. My mind was set. In fact, it's been set since December 24. That was the day I got an email with my results from the oral interview I had with the Records Specialists at the Police Department. Before opening the email, I knew I had to make a decision soon. And I chose Milwaukee. Something in my heart told me Milwaukee was for me. That it was this giant waiting room, where I had to put in my time and soon enough my name would be called and I would go on to do bigger and better things.

That's why I never opened the email. I didn't want it to make me second guess my decision. Because if I opened up that email and it said I had passed my interview and would move on to the next level, my head would battle my heart and tell me to go and I would still be no closer to coming to a decision. But now that I was at a decision, my mother was not making it any easier on me.

Is this normal parent-child behavior? I've never done this before, moving out and living on my own, and I always had this image in my head that when the time came, it would be a family-type event where everyone would help and pack and everything would be done in a few hours. Do parents really make the moving process difficult on their children?