2005-11-01

tales from my mini vacation

It was sooo nice to get away for a little while. I had my job interview on Thursday, which went pretty well, I thought. I was too nervous for it to go great because it was with a panel of people. I can do one on one, because you can get a to know each other, or a classroom because you know they don't particularly care and half aren't really listening anyhow. But knowing that they are all going to disect everything together afterwards is a bit much. Also it was wierd because I spent the whole morning driving up there, so I was pretty tired. I ended up early, so I slept in the parkinglot in my car for an hour. It was at a corporate-looking "research center," so I doubt anyone there would have seen me, but it was kind of off-putting. So I said some really great answers, some really not great ones. Such is life. I'm supposed to hear back from them in the next couple of days. Hopefully they won't ask for a second interview and just make a decision. At a certain point, hiring someone is a crapshot for everyone involved--kind of like when you are trying to find a new housemate. You can immediately scratch the real crazies off the list, but after that, you can ask all the questions you want, and in the end it is still the luck of the draw.

So I spent the night in Goleta at a motel six, which is highly not recommended. I got asked out to dinner while putting my stuff into my room. I declined, because I'm not the kind of girl who gets picked up at a motel six. It was the loudest motel room I have ever been in--it was right next to a very busy road and the train, apparently. The sheets stank of bleach and for some reason the matress was slippery, so the sheets moved all over the bed. Also there was a snuffling guy at the front desk who kept wiping his nose with his hand. I didn't want to take the key. The collar of his shirt matched the bedspread--bright blue and red splotches--which I thought was a particularly grotesque detail on the part of the management. I don't think I slept at all.

On Friday I went and saw my exboyfriend Paddy. The drive up was so beautiful, as it always is. I don't know that I will ever move away from California again. I got to Palo Alto a bit early, so I again slept in my car until he got off work. Naturally I made sure that I looked hot before seeing him; I changed my sweater and reapplied my makeup in a Borders bathroom so I'd be pretty. I can't even explain how good it was to see him. Happily, he seems exactly the same, only perhaps a bit more comfortable with himself. We got dinner and walked around for a while downtown. I was supposed to go and sleep at Di's, but changed my mind at the last minute. I left my car at his place and we went out. We went and got drinks in Menlo Park, at its only bar, and listened to a terrible and terribly sincere local boy-with-guitar. Seriously, he had a song called "wintertime" and he's from Menlo Park. Enough said. We stayed for a beer and then drove back to his place, so we could both drink at his local pub. We stayed until they were about to kick us out--suddenly I looked up and all of the chairs were already put up on the tables and the barkeep was staring at us to leave. I always have so much fun just being with him. Perhaps it all seems a bit banal, but it was like being on the best date, only with an old friend. Nothing happened--he was the perfect gentleman, which was almost disappointing. He slept on his couch in a sleeping bag and gave me his bed. I got up early to drive up to Di's, but we ended up talking for two hours on the couch in our pajamas. We went to a diner for breakfast and got bad pancakes from an extrodinarily surly waitress. Even that was amusing. When we hugged goodbye, and it almost seemed like he was going to kiss me, but didn't. I don't know. I (clearly) still like him, but I don't know that that could ever happen.

I didn't leave for Di's until 10:30, which turned out fine because she was still asleep when I got there two hours later. Di and I had our usual fun. It was like a big slumber party and I slept on her trundle bed. We tried to go out, but had forgotten that everyone would be dressed up for Halloween all skankified. I don't know whether there was something in the water or what, but the costumes were particularly scandalous this year. A vinyl teddy, fishnets and bitch boots does NOT constitute a Halloween costume. So we went home early and played Life (I lost) and drank gin & tonics. On Sunday we went to a corn maze and got pumpkins to carve. We also went to a "psychic" fair put on by the local nutty cult. The signs said that it was free, so we figured we'd go if it was still open after we ate lunch. We both got psychic healings, a "treatment" in which loony ladies had us sit in chairs on the porch as they waved their hands over us. Di's lady had her forehead painted blue and at one point asked for help from her father (although we most definitely did not see anybody). Mine was wearing a purple leisure suit with leopard print buttons and collar. She admitted that her kids think she is crazy. Di got her tarot cards read, so I had to wait around with these nut jobs for like an hour. I started pressuring them for information and discovered that they are a cult. They are a full-service "Christian" church that believes in helping individuals find their own morals and ethics, rather than preaching. Notably, they don't talk about Jesus or anything, but only a vague, generic and creepy "Supreme Being." When I pointed out that if they believe each person can find these things within themselves, then they must believe in some kind of universal code, they looked at me like I was the one who was nuts. They are going to have a prediction party soon, so I asked if there was a lot of dissent. I think at that point they were beginning to get annoyed with my questions. I was going to ask more about their marriage ceremony, but Di was done with her tarot reading so we left. They also had a sign on their wall telling people not to spy on them for government agencies, because as psychics, it was an insult to their intelligence. As if any serious people would bother with these loonies.

My drive back was horrendous, only because I got lost in LA, and it was bumber to bumper. I was there for four hours. I missed my freeway exit and accidently ended up in a place called San Pedro. There was a huge concrete sign spanning the entire freeway that said "WELCOME TO SAN PEDRO" and the whole freeway literally stopped. It was one of the weirdest and most disheartening things I'd ever seen. I cried and called my mom from a mcdonalds parking lot. I did eventually get home.

xanthium at 6:29 p.m.

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