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whoa

13 Aug

I was offered a job in NYC today.  It is a consulting starting doing marketing consulting work for, mostly, CPG companies.  CPG.  That’s the industry I was working in since I started working.  I hate that industry.  We sell things that aren’t necessary to people who don’t need them.  It’s not a lie per se, but it’s damn close.  We make crappy claims (though the claims are substantiated–that was my first job out of college, to help substantiate those claims).  We put the word “New!” on packaging and use it as a selling point (it’s hardly ever that new). 

I didn’t like that industry.  But that’s all my experience.  So I got this job in NYC based on my experience.  I was offered (and accepted) a job in Austin doing market research for electronics and high tech (it’s not as sexy as it sounds.  My first assignments will be in white goods, metering, and UPS.  Grrrr…I won’t work on solar anytime soon).

Part of me thinks I should take the job because, as much as I hate CPG, I could learn some useful skills.  Plus, I probably should stay with Pam.  The only thing that makes me unhappy with Pam is that she’s a bigger girl and I’m not physically attracted to her.  In all other ways, things are great.  And isn’t it selfish of me to want to leave a girl because she’s big?  Especially when I’m kind of big myself.

If I stay in NYC, she wants to move in together, but I think I’d rather get my own place because I can’t quite commit to her.  Damn you Lisa, last night I was thinking how much I love you still.

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Third time’s the charm.

7 May

I’m drunk right now, Lisa.  I wish I knew what you were doing.  I wish I knew if you still thought about me, if even in passing.  I’m in San Francisco right now.  Do you remember how you wanted to go to San Francisco when we were together?   Well, I’m here.  And I think I’ve wanted to come here ever since you broke up with me.  It was a promise we made together.  And even though you’re with this lame-ass boring actuary, who makes six figures, I sometimes think you and I can still get back together.

No, I don’t want you in my life anymore.  Take your rich  boyfriend and live a better life.  I’m still trying to move to SF just like you always wanted, in some pathetic attempt that you will see that I’m here and will want to get back together with me.

He’s so boring!!  I don’t care if he makes money.  He’s boring.  I know you and him have natural chemisty and you both love to hike and travel.  So what?  I’m sorry that I grew up poor and never traveled or hiked.  I’m sorry that I’m not Jewish or white.  Why did you pick someone who was white and Jewish?  It makes me feel like shit.  I’m sorry we never hiked the AT.  Growing up, I never had any money to even eat out, let alone take trips to far-away countries. 

Where you slumming with me?  Did you want to date a non-white, non-Christian person just to say that you dated someone who wasn’t white?  Did you slum it with  me?  I loved you and thought about you every second of every day.  I was happy.  You weren’t happy, it turned out.

Part of me loves you, but that part is small.  Most of me thinks you didn’t understand me or give me the benefit of the doubt.  Still, I wish for one more night with you, to hold you again and wake up to you so we can play again.  I love you.  it’s sad that you’re probably engaged to that boring, thin, rich, smart actuary.  But whatever, it’s true, I love you.  I want you.  If for just one more moment.  Love him.  Love Ben.  He’s not fun. 

I’m drunk.  I feel sad for myself.  I hope you enjoyed Argentina.

Let’s start at the beginning.

19 Apr

It started when Lisa broke up with me. Since she left and found someone else (less than a month later!), I have been miserable.

I moved to New York in July 2005.  I didn’t know anyone and felt a bit lonely.  So I signed up with match.com.  I emailed Lisa and we later met for the first in Coney Island.  She was cute.  I was excited to have someone in my life.

She tried to break up with me a few times, the earliest in Dec 2005.  I don’t know why.  I fought to keep it together and we still kept at it.  Despite that, I was happy.  We laughed a lot, were affectionate to each other, and even made love on her Brooklyn rooftop.

She claimed we fought a lot, but I don’t think that was the case.  She often made comments that she didn’t want to get married and wanted to spend the rest of her life traveling and not settling down.  I felt anxious.  I thought she was trying to push me away with subtle and not-so-subtle hints.  I tried to do what I could to make things easy for her.  I tried to start a business that would make us enough money so she could live abroad and travel.  I was so stressed with starting this tutoring business that I was unpleasant to be around.  We yelled and fought, mostly because I was stressed.  Sometimes I felt like I was doing this for us–for her–and that she didn’t care.  But I never told her that that was why I was starting the business, that it was for her.  I think she thought maybe I was just trying to make a quick buck.

Anyway, we broke up on Feb 24, 2007.  She emailed me and told me it was over.  I found she put a profile in match.com and in less than 3 weeks, she was with someone.  An actuary who makes over $100,000 per year.  So just like that I was replaced.  I’ve been depressed ever since.

The cherry is broken.

3 Apr

I spend nearly two hours commuting to my temp job each way.  Two hours in the morning.  Two hours at night.  I spend the time in between doing some glorified data entry for a financial institution. 

 In a former life, I had two master’s degrees from a top-rated public university and a consulting gig at a pretty well-known marketing firm.  I quit that gig because I hated the commute.  I moved in with my girlfriend to save money but sat around doing nothing.  I was desperate for a job and this temp job opened up.  My commute is about the same time but my pay is 33% less. 

I’ve been unhappy for a long time.  In my career and educational choices.  With my body.  In my relationship.  My ex-girlfriend accused me of a being a stressful person.  I denied it.  She was probably right.  My father is a bit depressive.  I inherited that from him as well as his weight and receding hairline. 

 The above story about my temp job is emblematic of my life: I make a decision with best intentions but, ultimately, end up in a worse off situation.  I’m writing this blog mostly for myself because I desperately need to make a change in my life: I want a career, a better body, happiness with my family, and I want to find true love where I feel completeness.