More Anthropology Adventures.

I was wondering how long it would be before a weird job related thing would happen, as all of my jobs like to spite me just a little bit, and the time is here.

I know many of you will say, "Please, Amy. You've received mafia letters, are conducting a genealogy of someone who might get deported, this is not the first weird work related thing to happen."

It's true, I would say in response, but this is the first thing that's been specifically directed at me. The other things I just sort of jumped in front of, if you know what I mean.

It all started a few weeks ago. I received a message in my Facebook inbox from someone I didn't recognize. It said, "You Rock!" I responded with, "Interesting, thank you. Have we met?" He claims he hit the wrong Amy, and that that's what he gets for being on the computer without contacts in. Yeah, right. I ignored the request.

It was not long after this that I realized, thanks to a janitorial plaque with pictures courtesy of UND, that the guy is one of our building's janitors. The next week I come into my office and find the single of Journey "Lights" sitting on my desk. I left it in the exact same spot I found it for more than a week and it never went away, but my garbage was always changed.

Last week I get in and I noticed a bootlegged copy of Stevie Ray Vaughn sitting on the student workers desk right outside my office. Definitely home made, from a concert in 1989 with Santana. I thought, well, at least he's not leaving them for me any more, and added Journey to the pile.

Then I get here today, and the Stevie Raye Vaughn CD has been moved from the student workers desk and is now on MY desk, but Journey remains where I put it.

What the fuck, dude.

Stevie Ray Vaughn is an excellent guitar player, but he's a douche, and I hardly ever listen to him. Journey, I listen to at the bar and make fun of all the really drunk people singing, "Just a small town girl..." by throwing entirely too witty for their sloshed minds to comprehend remarks at them.

I do not want the janitor to leave me anything, let alone really shitty music. Plus, am I supposed to keep these? Does he want them back? I don't even want to find out unless he plans on leaving an autographed Tom Waits record, or tickets to Simon and Garfunkel, or money.

I hope this doesn't become a problem, I would like to feel comfortable in my office and not like there might possibly be a camera taping me. I'm a jammer, and I want to jam out Bohemian Rhapsody in peace.

Not only that, but the only reason I even know it's the janitor leaving them is because I'm a freakin' sleuth. As far as he's concerned I don't know who's leaving them, and that's a billion time creepier.

Dear Janitor - I know your name, I'm just choosing not to use it here,

If you're reading this, please stop leaving me CD's. I'm flattered and appreciative, but more than that I'm creeped out. Even worse than that, the student workers are creeped out. So, please stop.

Thanks,

Amy

Mystery Science Theater 2010

Today I am beginning what will hopefully turn out to be a really awesome experience which will lead to me becoming a part-time private detective/alien hunter/seeker of the unknown.

A woman called me the other day requesting someone in the department to help her do some genealogical work. She's 65 and recently found out her father is not actually her father, which led to her discovery she is not a legal citizen of the US. Her mother brought her to the states when she was 1, so she's been here for 64 years, but she can't track down her mother's birth certificate. She's already uncovered many torrid affairs, business scandals, and her mother (who is 94, hates kids, and hoards animals) will no longer speak to her.

My guess so far? She was abducted by aliens.

Fear not. I am taking this 100% seriously. Do not let my fancy footwork fool you. I am in this for the long haul - whether that be to London, where her grandfather had a consulting firm, Boston, where he possibly founded the Boston U Business School, or the institution, where she or I may belong.

Wish me luck and tell a friend.

The Big 25

Only minor feelings of crisis. I think I've accepted many of the social constructs that come with being...well...no longer 24.

The first being, I am no longer in the "18-24" range, but have moved into the "twenty-something" phase of life.

It was a little difficult to grasp the idea of being two years shy of being my mother's age when she had me, only because as a child, I was always under the impression she was old when she had me, compared to my friends' parents, who were 22 or 23 when they had their first kjavascript:void(0)id.

At first I felt compelled to change things more drastically, but as a 25 year old now, they ain't how I roll, I mean I no longer behave in a drastic manner.

I move into an apartment with some friends on Monday. That will really change everything, more than this particular day ever will. I've gotten so used to just not using anything, it'll be nice to have all my things at my disposal again. Although, I was just about to list all the things I was going to start using, and I can't really think of anything beyond kitchen things. I guess the best thing, next to a full size freezer, will be that I will have somewhere else to sit besides the bed, which coincidentally, I won't actually have for awhile. I am so sick of laying/sitting on the bed all day I could puke. My damn elbow is probably permanently damaged from laying on it to watch TV at the end of the bed.

Anyway, one of the professors brought me in a chocolate brownie style cake - totally unexpected and really freakin' good cake. It was a nice surprise, they even got a card signed by most of the people and another prof gave me bacon flavored toothpicks, which is really weird, but really funny. I have to give them credit because I don't even know how they knew, and it sounds like they didn't until yesterday, haha. It's always a good day when you get cake at 9am. I got cards from my Grandma and Aunt in my work mailbox, Gma's had $20 so I will make it through the weekend without using my CC anymore, I'm going to lunch at Paradiso with a friend because you get a free meal on your birthday, and then when I get done with work I will most likely spend the night watching Brothers and Sisters.

I was about to write it should be a pretty good day all in all and then I got a text from someone I think I wish would just not text me. I don't know if that's what I wish exactly, I just wish we would talk and have the huge explosion fight we're bound to have and then just get over it so we can be move on and be friends again. I know I like to argue, but this is making me crazy. I've never had so much to say in all my life. I've never had so much I wanted someone else to say! I suppose I should get that part out of my head, but I don't care what she says, I just want her to say something. I suppose it won't be terrible if it doesn't happen, but there's nothing a big blowout tell-all can't solve, I'm sure of it.

Ok, so after that, it should be a pretty good day, this, the the twenty fifth occasion of the eleventh day of March.

Happy Birthday to me.

Holy Mary Mother of God

Most of the time I'm pretty content with my rationalizations about God and all that good stuff. I don't believe in hell, most "rules" in the Bible and other religious documents are subject to time and culture and social change and that's why there are many religions rather than just one.

I'm a little shaky on the whole Jesus thing...I kind of like to think God knew what was going on from the beginning. I don't think God steps in, but I really hope that every now and again an exception can be made for any one who asks. Which changes the Jesus thing.

I hope God's a she, or a ball of light, or a black hole with Morgan Freeman's voice because it's as close to a real hug as a voice can come. I don't believe God punishes people...ever, even if they don't believe. I don't believe being gay is wrong or sinful, because if God gave us anything it's the desire to look for love wherever it may reside.

I think God knows how difficult it is to have faith, and on some level has to appreciate those who have a hard time mustering enough faith all the time, and those who throw themselves head long into the religious abyss looking for some kind of reassurance. I think the soul is that little piece that will always wonder, but also instinctively knows right from wrong, even if it's hard to interpret. Truly good people never know they're good, evil people know it right from the beginning.

But every now and again, I feel this little niggling in the back of my mind. Sometimes it tells me it's all meaningless. There's no way to know, and there's no purpose in trying to explain it or accept it. Faith is just a form of escapism, trying to fend off our responsibilities to ourselves, to life and to other people. Even as we raise it up as a blessing.

Then other times, I really want it to be exactly how it says in any of the inspired religious texts. Pick one, it doesn't matter, I just want it to be true, and I just want to believe it. I wish there was one that was more inclusive, but beggars can't be choosers. I would love to have guidelines, no gray area, just black and white, right and wrong, yes and no, none of this maybe, sometimes, what if, garbage.

People like me never know anything. We just think and dream and wonder and hope and not pray, we never pray. We blame ourselves for everything, because who else is there? We run from success and failure because either alternative demands too much of a stance on any particular thing and the possibility of an undesirable outcome is almost too much to take. The thought of making things worse is horrifying, and the thought of making things better is a wonderful fantasy. A fantasy we fully recognize as just that. A thought, a dream, a wish, a hope, but not a prayer, never a prayer.

As Requested

I'm Back. From where? I don't know, but I'm back.

I have a new job. I'm officially moving back to Grand Forks. Technically, I'm already here, it's just my stuff that isn't, and really, who needs stuff. I have enough stuff to live perfectly comfortably in two places with just the transfer of a few outfits and my iPod. Now, of course, I would not be me if my whole car wasn't filled, so I often transport things that just never leave the car. A garbage bag of socks is one of those things. All of the jackets I own, granola bars, a two drawer dresser thing from Target, onion rings, a grocery bag of DVDs. I'm not gonna lie, a lot of the stuff has been in there since Iowa in Sept. I wish I could just shake the car out, like you do a rug.

Since I have a new job I was thinking of buying a car, but who am I kidding? I'm broke. This being said, I may get my parent's van, which would be...awesome. I can't decide if that's sarcastic or not. I wanted a station wagon, like a Subaru or something, but one less payment is fine by me, and in the summer I could technically live in it if need be. Hopefully it will not come to that, but I like the idea of knowing I have somewhere to sleep that does not rely on anyone else, just in case.

This was problem when I first arrived in GF. There were some weekends when the hotel was booked, so I slept in my car in the hotel parking lot when I had to work the overnights. It was usually only from 8-2 or three, then in the afternoon I'd a get a room again, but still. I may act like a gypsy but it ain't in my blood. I like having somewhere to go rather than going somewhere because it's the only place to go. My car and I have been to hell and back a couple of times together, so feel badly abandoning it, but I would feel much worse if all the tires fall off while I'm driving it, or the radiator just exploded. Both are quite likely to occur. Just the last time I went to the cities I had to pull over twice between here and Fargo to fiddle with the plugs and such so the speedometer would stay in place. I'd set the cruise for 75 and all of a sudden the arm thing would jump to 90, then back down to 60, which would then kick of the cruise. Very annoying. So there's me on the side of the Interstate (read freeway), no coat, I don't like to wear them on long drives so it was in the back seat, my Michael Jackson pants, hunched over the engine trying to see if anything's loose by just grabbing and wiggling stuff around.

Anyway, like I said, new job. It's nice actually, a very good job. Full state benefits, 25k a year, pretty laid back since I'm the one in charge, I kind of come and go as I please, without over stepping my bounds. Can't take advantage of the fact that no one knows what you're doing or someone will start noticing what you're doing. That's why the last lady got FIRED. I put that in caps because she claims she resigned, but it's a lie. She sucked. She was dumb. She was dirty. She was old (not in itself a problem, but she made it so). She was let go. I have my own office, I supervise student workers, I have keys to the building and all the doors, I have a voice mail with my name on it, my name is even up on directory that's in a glass case when you walk into the building. I just put AMY, haha. Soon I'll be like Madonna, and Cher, Beck, Beyonce, Bjork, Coolio, Bono and Elvis.

If only it wasn't in North Dakota. Puke. That's a deal breaker, and would have been if I could have found anything in the cities. I guess I did find CC debt collecting, and I almost did it, but I just sort of pretended it wasn't an option and let it pass me by. I did go to the interview and learned some interesting things: If you're ever behind in payments and you've got collectors calling (not the card itself) tell them you've already got a lawyer (give them a random lawyers name from the phone book) and are pursuing bankruptcy. That company will never call again - you might have another company call, but not the same one. Everything they say is a trick to scare you, "Has a law suit every been presented to you in the past?"

Let's see...still mourning Michael Jackson. Just changed my desktop to the lean in Smooth Criminal today. Another awesome thing about having an office...I can decorate it. It still has to be professional obviously, but I could get some nice framed photos of all my favorites. I bought a clock from Office Max that's made out of a recycled Warren Zevon record for $5! Course it doesn't work, which is why it was on clearance, but it looks awesome. Still thinking about what I'm going to substitute for the kids photos everyone always has at their desk. I don't have kids, so who's will I borrow? I thought about MJ's but that's creepy even for me. I think I'll just use the one's that come with the frame and when people ask, are those you're kids? I'll just say no, I don't know who's they are.

I have to go set up a film for one of the professors who isn't here, perhaps I'll think of more to write by the time I'm done.

Elton John and BIlly Joel

They are still 100% rock stars. Their voices are as strong as ever and incredible musicians. I was a little nervous about spending money I don't have, but it was definitely worth it. A real show. Now, if we could just get those damned North Dakotans to dance! You don't sit to Elton John unless you're in a wheelchair...no offense to those in wheelchairs. I guess they only pull out the big moves for Garth Brooks, Kenny Chesney and Shanie Twain...if you know what I mean. They did manage to get through the lines of Piano Man when Billy and Elton stopped to hear the audience. They hit the "Sing us a song you're the Piano Man, sing us a song tonight..." without trouble, then there was a momentary pause where I thought we were about to be embarrassed, but then came the, "We're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feelin' alright." We did a good job, I was pleased.

Ode To MyCrazies...

A woman came into the hotel and asked to use the phone. I couldn't figure out why, but I was really annoyed by this. She continued to gab on her phone "trying to get a ride." I tried to ignore her at first, going about my business, but I overheard her say something about her husband pushing her in the car and trying to run her over. This should have made me feel badly for the lady, but I just thought, "Figures."

When she finally got off the phone, unsuccessful at finding a ride, she came up to the desk and started thinking out loud. Technically, she was talking to me, but I didn't see how I was going to be able to conjure up the name of some long lost drinking buddy who could come and retrieve her. I nodded and mmmhmm'd, told her the city bus comes by across the street, but that's the best I can do. I don't like when people cajole me into answering or engaging. Statements like, "I wonder who I could call..." make me fly off the handle in my head.

We went through this whole process two more times, the third time she talked to me directly about her husband. They were gambling, her and her husband, when she decided to go meet her boyfriend, so she walked across a muddy field, then realized she didn't want him to see her dirty, so she needed a ride home. I'm assuming somewhere in there is the part about the car and the running over.

She asked if the coffee was free. I said, "For guests, yes, the coffee is free, but go ahead."

Clearly, I was being a bitch, but in due time will we see why.

She started talking about wanting a job like this, doing laundry. I told her winters Winters are pretty slow so the manager has us do it, but in the summer he sometimes hires someone. She continued on about working and liking to clean, so I gave her an application, and said he'd call if he needed someone.

She got a hold of her son and he came to get her. She thanked me and said goodbye.

I felt guilty, feel guilty, for being such an asshole.

Now, let's break it down, shall we?

What did Amy learn from this tiny instance?

1). Amy attracts crazies - this is example number 5 in about a year and half.

2). Amy gets screwed over by crazies - this would have been example number 4, there's one still in limbo.

3). Amy knows in an instant, the crazy ones, but often lets them lure her in.

4). They always engage me in conversation first, before anything else. Even when I am short with them, they continue to engage, that's when I know.

5). If given the time, they will wear me down. This is the epiphany part. I can only be short for so long, then I join the conversation, and then it's over, they're free to suck me dry. Damn my need to speak. I know that if this woman had asked for $5 for a cab, I would have given it to her. This is a problem. This is where my defensiveness in the beginning came from...this woman was fully capable of asking things of me as front desk clerk, and there was nothing keeping her from asking something of me as a person. I knew it the second she came in, but I gave her a chance to say anything else, and she said, "Can I use your phone?" I thought if she makes it quick, I'll know she realizes this is an inconvenience and change my tune. She talked for 8 minutes, I had to remind her that people need to get through to make reservations.

6). Luckily, this time, I saw the signs. In telling me every detail of her thinking at the moment, she let me in on all the clues.

A) She gambles
B) She has a husband
C) She has a boyfriend
D) She's an alcoholic (this one's more subtle, she asked old friend to pick her up, when she couldn't, they decided to get together for drinkS, which she hadn't done in a long time.
E) She has no job.
F) She has no friends willing to pick her up.
G) She flings her dirty laundry around in public to strangers.
H) She has no money for a cab (this one's the weakest one, but combined with the others, lends a hand to the evidence).

7). The guilt I feel about not helping her out, is pretty significant. Like, I wish I could do it over. Even though I know, the alternative is me giving her money for a cab. Here lies epiphany number 2. I will either spend the rest of life getting f'd over by crazies, or I will feel guilty about not getting f'd over by crazies for the rest of my life. I figure, I feel guilty for a reason. And it's so stupid, but the parable from the freaking bible that I remember most often is the one that song about Jesus coming to visit is based on. In the song the "singer", Reba, I believe, waits and waits for Jesus to show up, but keeps getting someone else at her door. She gets all depressed when Jesus doesn't come, but then he says he was all the people she let in. Really, this has nothing to do with Jesus, but letting people in seems like the right and nice thing to do. However, sometimes it's going to hurt me. I will struggle with this forever.

The End.