I'm sort of in a state of rage right now due to the fact that I have to spend every last penny on a second fucking bridesmaid dress for my step-sister's second fucking ginormous wedding, AND I've been having to deal with the fact that if I turn my bath on, my bathroom explodes and my bedroom is saturated with disgusting Santa Monica tap water. It's the third time it has happened, this bathroom explosion. This time it claimed the lives of two pairs of my boots, a sorta fancy bra, and my motherfucking bathmat from Target. The boots are ruined, and so is the bra. Well, it's all ruined, but the bathmat irritates me the most. Not because it's the most expensive ($10 from Target), but because it's going to be the most irritating piece to replace. If I want new boots or a bra, I can just walk over to the Promenade and pick them up. But if I want to replace my bathmat, which I do, I have to drive all the way to Culver FUCKING City to Target and barrel down a sea of screaming children and their completely oblivious parents just to get a replacement. So I'm annoyed, basically. And I wanted to get that out before I jump into this little number so that it was clear why my tone may be less than sunny.
I've decided I need to work on getting over myself. I've told a million people to get over themselves, but I've never said it to myself. While I was driving today, the song "1234" by Feist came on the radio. I listen to the radio in my car, see, because I don't have a CD player. And I'd buy one if I had a working window in my car, but since I'm too cheap to replace it, I can't keep anything valuable in my car at any time. My bowling ball even got stolen once! So I listen to the radio. It's good, though. I can keep up with the kids. Except when they play songs on Star 98.7, which is meant for people in their FORTIES, that I have liked for months already. It's happened several times, with several artists. At first I wanted to turn it off because I didn't want to encourage it, but then I had a miniature moment of clarity and I realized this: What's wrong with people listening to the music I like? I'm all about making mixed discs for people. It's my favorite when I introduce a friend to a new artist. But why do I have an issue when random forty-somethings I don't even know get to hear my favorite songs? It's not like I discovered these artists. Rarely am I the first of my friends to hear something completely unheard of. And it would be one thing if I hated everything else on the radio stations except for the artists that I previously enjoyed...but I don't. I'm with the rest of them. I'll listen to a Coldplay song on the radio. (Yeah, I'll admit it.) I don't change the station when "Umbrella" by either Rihanna OR Mandy Moore comes on. So what makes those Star 98.7 douchebags any different from me? Nothing at all. CHILL OUT, Lindsay. Instead, I should be excited that the artists I like are actually starting to taste national success. I'm going to work on that.
I came to the Sony lot (where I work now) for my interview, and I was completely overwhelmed. I had to wait in this long line in order to get clearance to even step another foot further onto the lot. There was a Visitors section, and an Employees section. As I was waiting, I watched all of the employees whiz by and dance onto the lot towards whatever exciting job they had. I wondered if they looked at the visitors waiting in their single-file line and thought "Pshhh. Visitors." My first week here was fairly humbling, because even though I was officially hired, they security office was out of badges, so I still needed to pass through the Visitors gate each morning on my way in. I desperately wanted my little magnetic badge that allowed me to bypass all those pathetic non-employees. Alas, I continued through the Visitors gate for an additional week. I finally got my badge last week, and I was ecstatic. When I got to the turnstile that lets you onto the lot, I slammed my new badge down on the scanner and started to run through towards the lot. Apparently you have to wait a moment for the light to turn green, and then you may proceed, but I never got that memo. I immediately jumped forward, and almost as quickly was slammed backwards into the man behind me. Clearly I was new at this whole EMPLOYEE thing. I was slightly mortified. The worst part was that all of the visitors that were waiting in line for their entrance witnessed the entire ordeal. At that moment, I would rather have been one of them. Now that I know how to enter the turnstile, and I'm a seasoned employee (two weeks!!), I look at those visitors with the same amount of contempt that I had imagined the employees looked at me when I was just a lowly visitor. You can't help it. It's like the Sneeches and the Star-bellied Sneeches. You want what you can't have, and you want desperately to prove that you have what others don't have. It's really sad. And I wish I could say that after having written this my heart now goes out to those waiting in line...but it doesn't. I have my badge, and that's all I need.
"A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle." -Benjamin Franklin