Not too Proud Throwback-- 2005

This is a diary entry I wrote about the idea of being "Not Too Proud" nine years ago. My life is considerably more prideful these days, but the spirit of it remains the same.
4-04-05

When we were little, my dad and brother used to play a game called, “Not too proud.” First, you make a proclamation: "I'm not too proud to steal quarters out of the wishing well!" "I am not too proud to root through those rich people's trash!" “I am not too proud to go dumpster diving behind the bookstore for old copies of MAD magazine!” And then, you go out and do it. I realize that in many ways my life has become one game of “Not too proud” after another. I am not too proud to abscond with a mattress left out on the street as trash by the neighbors. I am not too proud to wear shoes the dog chewed up. I am not too proud to wait until T-mobile turns off my cell phone to pay the bill. I am not too proud to go to a Dolly Parton concert with my mother. I am not too proud to wash off last night’s makeup in Dargan’s bathroom over 9:00 am cocktails. When we lived in Los Angeles last year, frequently broke, we were often not too proud to write a check at the ghetto Ralph’s two days before payday that may or may not successfully clear so that we could buy groceries and cigarettes. I am not too proud to fill my broken radiator with urine I found in plastic water bottles amongst roadside litter (filled and then discarded by field workers and truck drivers, I presume) and fix the radiator hose with a clipboard. (I really did this, and not only was I not too proud to do it, it got us home and made me feel like frickin’ MacGyver.) Part of me kind of delights in these not too prouds, and certainly this game, whether consciously played or otherwise, is the source of a lot of adventure in my life, as it is impossible to do a lot of fun things if you have too much pride. I encourage anyone who worries a little too much of what other people think of them to embrace it: say it loud and say it proud (because this is the last thing you’ll be doing with any amount of pride for a while): “I AM NOT TOO PROUD.”

That being said, part of me really hankers for a lifestyle where I could maintain a little more pride. Sometimes I’m proud of being not too proud, sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be. I wish I didn’t live in a house where we do laundry only once a month, that perpetually smells of dog, and where our wine corker has been lost upstairs for weeks so that when I buy wine I buy a box of it instead of bothering to locate the aforementioned wine corker. I’d like to get my finances in order and become more organized and spend more time training our embarrassingly ill-behaved Rottweiler puppy, because right now he’s like a crystal ball of how fucked up my children are going to be. I’d like to swim every day, make more friends, read more books, write every day, and depend less on Tivo, marijuana, and alcohol as my main sources of entertainment. I want to be able to remember what I did to have fun when it wasn’t one of those three things, and do them.

I think I may have forgotten how to try. I must have known once. (In seventh grade, I even got an award at school for “Most Enthusiastic.” Where is that girl now?) If genius is 90% perspiration, I am sitting here on a paltry 5%. My chances of success with those types of odds are about as good as the accuracy of a 99 cent pregnancy test (which they do offer at the “Only 99 cents Store”, along with all sorts of other items I feel they have no right to sell for a dollar-condoms, douches, hair dye, and hemorrhoid ointment; call me extravagant, but I think that there are certain things you should pay full price for, and pregnancy tests are right up there at the top of the list.).

In David Rakoff’s acknowledgements for “Fraud” he writes at the very end: “And to David Sedaris, who reminds me, both in word and action, that I could still, at least, try.” Sedaris did not publish work until his late 30’s, spending his earlier years in a mess of self-destructive behavior, crystal methamphetamine, appallingly bad performance art, and menial jobs, all the while sitting on this gold mine of hilarious unspent talent. I see their success stories through the turmoil, turmoil easily matching mine, if not surpassing it purely on the basis of time wasted thus far—and I hear the echo of a Judd’s song, “Why not me?” If they can overcome such flakiness, why shouldn’t I be able to? However, I want nothing less than to look at Sedaris’ life as an excuse for myself, as a consolation that I have a lot of time to waste before I have to really hit the books and make something of myself (KD Oslin, was after all, over 40 by the time she made her first hit record.) because if I do fuck around for another fifteen years procrastinating success, I will be unhappy for the next fifteen years. I want to spend that time, instead, working to become something, and if I don’t become something, I will know that I have, at least, tried.

Unemployment, Giardia, and Christian Drug Dealers

1. I saw Michael Bolton in concert a couple weeks ago and it was magical. Magical, I tell you! His voice sounded exactly like it does on CD's (IF NOT BETTER) and he is dreamy. DREAMY, I SAY!  He changed clothes three times and even though none of his ensembles involved bedazzlement, I still appreciated the effort. To commemorate the event, I got an enormous black t-shirt with his face on it. I plan to wear it non-ironically, the same way I wear my Hanson t-shirt. Beckie and I (yes, I found someone to go with me, completely voluntarily) were probably the youngest audience members there, but what we lacked in age and oxygen tanks, we made up for with enthusiasm. To be honest, before going, I wasn't aware of how many Michael Bolton songs I knew. A lot, that's how many.

2. Today, I got fired from my brand new job at a Christian medical marijuana dispensary (there were bible quotes on the receipts, just like at In and Out) . I've never been fired before, and I got to tell you, it doesn't feel good.  A week after I started working there, I came down with what I thought was probably the flu, but turned out to be giardia. I decided to tell my new employer that I had a bacterial infection (instead of a highly contagious intestinal parasite) because they had been really cautious about me getting a doctor's note to return even when they thought it was just the flu and I was worried if I told them it was giardia, it would be another week before I'd be allowed to return, but instead, today, when I was still sick, and called in to the tell them that I would come in but was still sick, they fired me. Is there a German word for disappointed relief? Because if there is, that's what I have. Disappointed because I really (really) can't afford not to have a job as I have rent to pay and what not, but I also wasn't all that wild about my new job (I listened to six hours of Christian rock on my last day there, which was just as excruciating as it sounds, not because I have anything against Christianity per se, but I do have something against that particular musical genre. I will concede that I may have questionable taste in music (see #1), but it's not so bad that it includes Christian rock. Anyway, so now I'm unemployed and also still sick, which means that I'm making frequent trips to the bathroom while at the same time dealing with intermittent crying jags.

3. On a related note, why are admin and customer service jobs so poorly paying in this town? I have like 15 years of client services experience and am really good at it and yet, apparently my skills are worth almost nothing. I have a job interview tomorrow, which is promising (did I mention I really need a job?) but given the job description, DOE probably means $15 an hour which is demonstrably lower than the job I left to go work for Christian drug dealers, a job I left because I thought I wasn't making enough. (Christian drug dealing makes pretty decent money, btw, in case you were interested.) There are a couple really awesome looking writing jobs on Craigslist right now that I know I would be just super at, but I don't think I even have any writing samples anymore. This is my first effort to write on a regular basis in quite some time, and I haven't been exactly excelling at that.

4. Right now, I really want a drink, but I can't have one. The warning labels on the antibiotics I'm taking pretty much promise that I'll die if I have one. I doubt this is true, but given my luck today, I think it's better not to press the issue.

5. So maybe I should just go back to school and rack up some more student loan debt? Because I only have like $40,000 so far. From degrees I didn't complete. That feels so good to write, especially considering the day I've had. I've been taking this class at City College called Chemical Dependency and the Family or something like that, which is one of the classes for getting your Drug and Alcohol Counselor certification which I think I'd probably be pretty good at, but since I have my BA already, I could also go back to school for my Master's in Family Therapy which will be really expensive but gratifying. Definitely something to think about.

6. On a brighter note, my mom and I are going to see Book of Mormon on Sunday and I could not be more excited. I already know all the words to all the songs because I borrowed the soundtrack from the library last year and listened to it non-stop for weeks. It's so good, you guys. If you have any interest in musical theater or Mormons (I happen to be a big fan of all of the above), I definitely suggest you check it out.