waiting, waiting, waiting

know what i'm thinking, as i sit around waiting for those fucking results?

i'm thinking about how fat i've gotten from the past couple of days alone.

i know. this is supposed to be a moment of pure crisis. i have things that are massively at stake. and all i can think about is my appearance?

i have a belly. the kind that you can poke with an index finger and have the flesh feel all gushy and fluid under your finger.

when did this happen?

i hate being squishy.

but at the same time, screw vanity for the rest of today! this belly of mine will only get worse before it gets better. i'm a-getting wasted tonight and am gonna drink as much as i can until my belly is to bursting. and then tomorrow i can worry about getting rid of this pilsbury dough squishiness.

cheers.

back to black

the post i put up today is already gone. i deleted it. it was t.m.i., i think. :)

my blog is going dark for at least a few days. but i will be back and at 'em hopefully soon enough.

until then, here's metallica's "fade to black."

getting lost within myself
nothing matters, no one else . . . .

an agitated rant and a prayer

dude.

i'm really scared.

bar results come out in exactly a week.

i feel like i've waited so long for the results to come out that i just don't care anymore.

conversely, though, i feel like i could stand to postpone knowing the results for, oh, a good ten more years.

i am just so nervous. nervous as hell! fuck!

i know i've talked over and over again about not caring . . . .

and it's true that i've got other plans in the works anyway, so this won't be the end-all and be-all of my existence; i'm not going to go out and kill myself if i don't pass (i think).

but god. at the same time, this is everything, everything, that i have worked hard for.

i talk breezily about how much i hated law school when i was in it, how i didn't like most of the people there.

but i still worked my ass off on it.

and when i studied for the bar, i simultaneously hated how it became the bane of my daily existence, because all i would do, day in and day out, was try to memorize all these damned rules and meticulously write out essay answers.

but i still gave it everything i had.

when something becomes so much a part of you, and you work so damned hard on it, even as you loathe the fuck out of it, no matter what you say, no matter how much you wish otherwise, it still is so very important to you. in fact, it's become you. so despite all my plans, despite all my wishes, despite my other life goals which have nothing to do with practicing law, i want this. i want it so badly. it's something i've dedicated myself to wholeheartedly, even if my heart wasn't in it per se.

i'm sorry. i wish i could not care so much about it.

but how could i not? three years of law school, then two years of trying to put it away and not think about it but having it still lurk over my shoulder, then half a year of my life studying for it, and the huge chunks of money i've paid and still owe on loans that got me through law school and paying for all the review materials and not having a nice steady job for practically this whole year . . . . how could i not want to pass and start practicing? seriously?

godfuckingdammit. so that's why i'm agitated and why i'm not myself. that's why i'm ready to get all shit-faced right now at 8:30 in the morning seven days before the results come out and keep myself in a wasted state until i somehow find the nerve to check the results on the web.

damn it.

but today is my last day of work. i must play it cool today, and then by 4:30 p.m., i can start railing agitatedly in my mind and try to find a way to not get all frickin' crazy this next week.

i brought doughnuts in for my co-workers.

i noticed that other people have brought in stuff, too.

darn it. can't i have my last day be business as usual? i'm only a temp!!

but dang it, unfortunately, they love me. and i think they really will miss me. i hope they don't make me do some damned speech or anything. . . .

*sad, heavy sigh*

ai-ya.

all praise to buddha and the spirits who lived before me and who are now my protectors in this world, please help me find the strength to patiently wait out this next week and to deal with things as they come. and please also help me find the strength to not let my dark thoughts ruin my last day of work here so that i can show my gratitude to my co-workers who have really gone above and beyond for me in every possible way and love me so wholeheartedly. help me be upbeat and happy because i really am grateful to have met them and to have worked among them, and i do not want to ruin a day that they have enthusiastically planned, just for the sake of me.

here's to the losers

have you ever felt like a loser? not just a loser, but a loser standing small?

if so, this song's for you:

"the winner takes it all" -- abba

i've always thought this a rather sad song, but watching this music video and seeing the seemingly real pain in beautiful agnetha's eyes makes me feel even more strongly the pangs of woe that she sings about. this song was written after her marriage to björn (the blonde dude in abba) fell apart. it is just a beautiful song, and she has such a beautiful voice.

and i seriously am digging her eyeshadow in the video -- it looks awesome!

i just can't get over how amazing this song is. i never tire of listening to it. because despite the hurt, agnetha is trying to be strong and sensible about her relationship coming to an end, and the lyrics show her matter-of-fact attempt to reason away her pain: the winner takes it all, and the loser has to fall. it's simple, and it's plain -- so why should she complain?

not to be all cheesy, but when i listen to this song -- like really listen to the words and her voice -- i get caught up in it. and i have to pull a kleenex out to dab unobtrusively at my eyes.

what i like most of all about the song, though, is the fact that, as much as she sings about being a loser, agnetha is anything but. you hear the lyrics, and you just want to kick the guy who threw her to the curb right in the nards. she sings about the winner taking it all, and you see how resigned she is to having lost her man. in the video, when you see her looking all vulnerable, sad, and alone, you just want to reach out and hug her.

but at the same time, a loser wouldn't be saying these kinds of things and finding ways to remain strong.

so i feel ya, agnetha. as losers standing small, we will let the judges decide -- and the likes of us will abide. but in a way, we're winners, too.

(seriously. no one can be more abba-solutely abbagirl than moi.)

lesson learned

i'm going to hell.

i surely am.

hippie sex predator just stopped me and asked if he could talk to me privately.

i was apprehensive as i followed him into the file room. talking "privately" was not a good thing; the last time he had caught me in private, he had asked me if there was anything wrong, because i'd been treating him so callously and brusquely.

once in the file room, though, to my surprise, he began saying his goodbye to me. he won't be here tomorrow, he said, but "i really like you and think you're so cool." he said he was sad to see me go.

i was immediately touched by this speech alone -- and also ashamed because of the way i have treated him and talked shit.

and then he gave me two gifts:

a glass ring, because, as he said, "i know you like wearing chunky rings."

and a tiny silver wish box in the shape of a star and that has a latch with which to keep the tiny lid closed. "i put a wish in there for you, that you pass your bar exam."

i have no words.

i'm so touched.

his words and acts have really made my week.

i am surely going to hell. i will stop talking shit about him now.

in fact, if i ever mention him here on this blog again, i will use different nickname: troll with a heart.*

so not to go all sesame street or anything. . . .

but i've learned my lesson.

and i'm sorry.

* sorry. but sweet gestures aside, he still does look like a troll. and can be as uncouth as one. but his heart, in the end, belies his appearance and manners (and smell).

a newly discovered major peeve

when a power-hungry co-worker who is a major control freak tries to take away your power to speak for yourself.

i was just in a staff-meeting during which we were joined by a pretty important person in the hierarchy of this entire institution. the pretty important person recognized everyone in the room except for me and this other girl, so she introduced herself to us with the obvious intent of having us introduce ourselves to her in return.

before the other girl and i could begin introducing ourselves, hawknose jumped in, and she began introducing the other girl to the pretty important person. in my mind, i was all wtf?!

and then just as she finished introducing the other girl to the pretty important person and was about to introduce me, i interceded and began intoducing myself to the pretty important person. and yes, that meant i had to cut off hawknose before she even got three syllables out about me.

nuh-uh. *wagging finger* no one's talking for me. i speak for myself.

but even after i introduced myself, hawknose still spoke up and lamely added that this was my last week. she didn't know or realize that anything was amiss. she just wanted to talk and impress pretty important person.

hawknose, hawknose. what is wrong with you? get off your high horse.

sorry. i'm now biased against her because of inside information i now have about how she's attempted to expand the scope of her official duties and has gotten all anal and completely like a control-freak. i can totally see that now.

so that's my new-found peeve. i will not let others talk for me when i can plainly speak for myself.

how i spent the first half of my friday night

i held my bloody mary glass away from my body as i concentrated intently on the display before me. my eyes were narrowed intently, and i paid no mind to any of the flurry of activity going on around me. it was loud in the extensively large room, with its vaulted ceilings that pathetically attempted to replicate the ceiling of the sistine chapel. it was a gaudy and loud place, but it is nonetheless the kind of loudness that is just so constant that it reassuringly allows you to blank out the world.

there were sounds of furious clicking as the people around me played on the old-fashioned slot machines, the ones with the rotating reels that clickety-clacked endlessly. and also the sounds of faint dinging and mechanized music as people won bonuses. the card tables were busy, too, with an array of people who peered keenly at their cards. there were white people, black people, quite a few latinos, and also a good mix of asians -- all there with one purpose in mind: to challenge lady luck and win some against the house.

i was aware of them all and yet not. the air was thick with the smell and fumes of cigarette smoke, and they made my eyes, already sensitive from my chronic, daily use of soft contact lenses, dry and irritated. i constantly had to blink my eyes in an effort to resuscitate them. but even this discomfort was inconsequential to me. i had my own fortunes to tend to. the bloody mary glass in my hand was freezing cold and made my fingers painfully numb, and i sipped from it from time to time. but all my attention was on the slot machine in front of me. i was on a roll. for some reason, i had gotten bonus after bonus on this machine -- and when i happen to enter the bonus round on this machine, the pay-offs ended up being pretty impressive.

this was only my second time here, at this particular casino. the decor inside was hued with mostly browns and reds, and the interior was surpringly well-lit with natural lights -- none of that neon stuff and black walls that i'm used to seeing in casinos.

i had sat down at this particular slot machine on a lark. it was a girls' night out, but the people i had arrived at this casino with had already gone their own separate ways, anxious to have their own bit of fun, whatever form that happened to come in. as for me, when it came to casinos, there are only two things i really ever tend to do because i get my jollies off so well on them: grab myself a bloody mary and sit down to the video slots.

i had walked by this particular machine, the jade elephant, a number of times in the few hours that i'd been there, and each time, i had seen no one sitting there. finally i sat down to it because, for some reason, even as much of a fairly well-informed cultural studies and post-colonial scholar as i am, i always tend to get a kick out of things in pop culture that exploit cultural stereotypes of the asian persuasi(a)n. and this video slot machine, this jade elephant, was no exception, particularly with its cartoonish caricature of the typical demure, modest chinese lady in traditional garb and a large picture of a jade elephant behind her.

i had already made my fortunes at other machines. i had come in through the casino doors armed with a solid $ 100, and i told myself that, no matter what, if i happened to be on a losing streak, i wouldn't stride over to the atm machine for more dough. that $ 100 would be my end-all and be-all. i usually come into casinos with this kind of conviction in mind, i.e., not to exceed a certain dollar amount loss. i often end up having trouble adhering to this conviction, though, because i end up getting so damned competitive. especially if i come to find some crazy old lady standing and watching me from behind, then forget it! i will stay in that chair and not leave the machine until she goes away first, even if it means i end up losing all my money.

so within the span of a few hours, and because i'm pretty poor and must play small, i had spent much of the evening playing the penny and two-cents machines and had found myself down by about half of what i had come into the casino with. i still couldn't find the people i arrived at, so finally when i came across that same lonely jade elephant machine again, i sat myself and inserted my ticket, with about only $ 44, into the machine.

my first spin gave me a bonus -- three jade elephant landed on the reels.

"ooh," i said to myself in a satisfied way. i took an eager sip of my bloody mary.

the bonus round ended up giving me about 2,000 pennies.

i played some more. over the span of about fifteen minutes, i began losing all those 2,000 credits (and then some) that i had just earned.

but i continued playing. when the jade elephant pop up on a reel, the machine makes an excited commotion after each one appears. and the commotion was getting to me. i was addicted to the sound. the commotion would increase after each elephant appeared, so that by the second time, you are leaning forward and waiting for that third elephant to drop -- and end up being so heartfully disappointed when it doesn't that you anxiously and determinedly keep pushing the "repeat bet" button, because you're sure -- no, convinced! -- that you are thatclose to hitting the bonus.

and so it was a haphazard battle on that machine. i would win a one or two thousand credits, then lose it just as quickly. but i was convinced that the machine was absolutely hot and that it was only a matter of time before i won big.*

* now, please note that, for a poor girl such as me, winning "big" is a relative term. "big" for me is likely not the same as "big" for others.

in the meantime, as i battled it out with the slot machine, a cute asian girl, about my age, sat down at a machine three seats away from me. i guess we were in the "cultural corner" of the casino, because she was playing a game whose title boasted something brazillian and with a picture of some chick balancing fruit on her head.

(i kid you not. isn't that wrong? seriously, i guess being p.c. is not one of a casino's first concerns, even as it tends to draw an astonishingly impressive mix of culturally and ethnically diverse peoples.)

i had gotten perhaps two or three bonuses when, from the corner of my eye, i began noticing that she was checking me out.

well, not checking me out as much as she was checking out my machine.

did i mention i tend to get possessive of the machines i happen to sit at? and seriously, despite the continuous cycle of wins and losses on that machine i was on a roll.

so she clearly wanted my machine.

then i began noticing that she was slowly making her away across the three machines separating us and inching closer to me.

i didn't care. i was proud that i was on the roll that i was on. i like flaunting my good luck to the other slot machine poachers. i slouch even more languidly into my chair, extend the hand holding my drink out to the side and rest my arm on a raised knee, whose foot is propped up next to the machine. let them watch, whoever they are. watch me hit it big time.

and i did hit it big time. by this time, the cute asian girl had made her way to the seat right next to me. she hit a bonus on that machine, too, but even when her bonus reels started spinning, she kept darting looks at my machine.

that's right, honey. keep your eye on mine.

and as the last of her bonus spins came to a halt, that's when my jade elephantgave it to me good.

now, when you hit the bonus on jade monkey, before your bonus spins start coming into play, you have the chance to make three random selections from about 30 or 40 jade monkeys on the screen. these selections will either give you additional spins (you start with only five), a higher multiplier, a scatter pay for a particular pictograph, or make one of the five reels be totally wild.

my selections, for this one last bonus, gave me a scatter pay, a multiplier, and a wild reel. so i only got to have five spins.

i was kinda disappointed, because i'd wanted more spins -- but then the reels began spinning with my bonus plays.

and can i say what happened then made me blissfully happy?

because thereafter, this is what happened: . . . .

cha-ching!!

i hit pay dirt.

after my bonus play finished, i satisfiedly cashed my ticket out and left my seat. within moments, the girl next to me extracted her ticket from her machine and eagerly snagged my seat.

but i didn't care.

i'm a girl with small-time expectations. i have a cozy, simple life and am thrilled whenever life throws me a perfect fastball that i can confidently swing at and know that i'll hit a home-run.

i sat down at that machine with $ 44. and i emerged with $ 230.

at this time, it was only 11 pm. i then went in search for my companions. the night was still young, and with the extra dough stuffed in my back pocket, there was plenty of fun to be had.

and trust me. fun did find its way to us that night.



but leave it to abbagirl to discuss the mundane details of the night and not get into the more-exciting details.

hey, i've gotta keep some parts of my life secret.


and then i made it home by about 2:30-3:00-ish a.m. and slept most of saturday.

feelings of nostalgia, now that my days of employment are narrowly numbered

things i'll miss about my rubber-stamping job

1. ending up with ink-stains all over my hands at the end of each work day without fail.

2. re-filling up my ink pads with those roll-on inker things.

3. the challenge of stamping each page of a 100+ page document and trying to make sure the stamp lands on the same spot and in a straight manner on each and every page.

4. lubing up the first two fingers and thumb of my left hand with sortkwik, the "non-staining fingertip moistener" that offers an "easy, clean way to get a grip."

5. mindlessly losing myself in a meditative, zen-like way in performing the same manual tasks over and over.

6. leaning against the office's old copy machine, which vibrates just the slightest bit to give me a cheap but pleasant thrill for the day.

;)

7. forgetting that, for the first time in my life ever, i have direct deposit so that when i log into my bank account over the internet, my eyes grow a-gog at the amount of money that has miraculously* appeared in my account.

* "miraculously" as in "i forgot to expect money in there!" -- not as in "gee, that sure is a lot of money in there."

8. meeting a whole bunch of cute and smart doctors, residents, and other kinds of staff here at the med. center.

9. talking shit with kooky, g.w.n.h., and ghetto supa-star about work in general and also about our other more-irritating co-workers.

things i sure as hell won't miss about my rubber-stamping job

1. hippie sex predator's disgusting bodily stench, which follows him around like ruby gloom and her dreary cloud of dark rain.

2. hippie sex predator yelling on the phone for sometimes hours at a time at his wife, son, doctor, health insurance provider, friends, neighbors, and a whole host of other characters for something or other and otherwise providing way too much info about himself.

3. hippie sex predator's fuggly countenance and short, highly disgusting, oompa-loompa-like appearance.

4. hippie sex predator himself (obviously).

5. the long-assed staff meetings that go on forever.

6. hustling over to loaner boss' at her insistence and being trained for something or other, then having her drop me like a hot potato and leave me hanging when she gets distracted by other people or events.

7. dealing with difficult people who think i should drop everything to tend to their every whim and otherwise try to make me feel like i'm an insignificant little pea-brain, even though i generally tend to hold two or three more degrees than they do.

8. commuting back and forth for about forty minutes each way, over the span of a measly 18 miles, amongst a sea of bad drivers, through the ghettoes of sactown.

---------------------------------

freedom from the wretched cubicle life in 8 more days!! yay!