Re-entry blues

The wreath is still up on my door, the stockings still hung with care (when Shazaam doesn't swat them down), and the last vestiges of the Poinsettia in the kitchen still hold on strong, but this week's return to work remarked the definitive end of my winter break. I hate to admit it, but it felt good to get back into my routine, though certainly not easy. You can bet your sweet ass it was an Uber ride to- and from work all three days I was back. But it was all novel again, trekking to the BevMo for provisions and to the gym after work.

I am now at the point in my life where I don't just reflect on how things are now compared to just five years ago, or even ten years ago, but now a full twenty years ago. Nineteen ninety seven would have been my second quarter of my sophomore year in college. If I'm not mistaken, the 1996 summer was the only one in which I returned home during my college tenure. I got a job at Target to pull together a little money, only to have it all divested into the purchase of new contact lenses. I also dyed my hair red. And when I returned back to school that fall, it was with my loathsome new roommates, the only two gay people I'd befriended my freshman year, and who I was fated to live with for my sophomore year in off campus housing. Why, we even had a homophobic fourth roommate who I had the misfortune of bunking with, and whose friends from out of town one night busted into the room after having been screaming homophobic epithets at me to let them in one night after partying. He moved out by second quarter, I believe.

It was also the first year I did E at some party. I was not too keen on hanging with the whole group of people at said party, so bid adieu to my hostess, and hightailed it home, not really feeling a thing. Once I got back to my apartment, I started playing music, and I specifically remember the point when it kicked in--when I played the Junior Vasquez deep house mix of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. It still gives me flashback chills.

I used to keep journals during this time as well, which would hardly read as a magnum opus today, but in which I kept track of my favorite songs for the month. This would have been about the time of The Cardigans' "Lovefool," Everything But The Girl's "Missing," and one of my all time favorites, Reel 2 Real's "Jazz It Up." Suffice it to say the first two songs would continue to be played for the remaining two years of my college career non-stop on the radio, and the third would be a staple on my mixtapes for many more years to come. I just heard "Lovefool" for the first time in awhile in an Uber home Friday night, as a matter of fact.

I had begun working at the dining commons by this point, and befriended the beautiful Guy, with whom everyone was in love. A beautiful, charming Filipino boy who would kindly accompany me to my gigs at the AM college radio station, he really did have a swarm of hangers-on who were all chicks, and was ostensibly straight, but he seemed to hang out with me quite often. I think he had once made mentioned about how he didn't mind hugging friends of his, which I believe was as close to bi-curious experimentation as he was probably willing to go, but I didn't pick up the cue. I didn't pick up the cue from ANY of the guys who made them at the time, something I regret so tremendously today, English words cannot express. I never got the memo that college was a time guys were willing to experiment, and let more than a few opportunities slip down the drain because I was too busy being, out, gay, and proud instead of being out, gay, and on the prowl, or even just remotely aware.

Before the school year ended, I had made a new group of friends through my connections at the radio station, and would transition to a whole new clique, leaving the pair of assholes I'd been living with that year behind, and hitting the half way point of college career.

What a time.

We out

I almost don't want to write this entry because I don't want to believe my beloved vacation is nearly over. On the other hand, I am absolutely ready for 2016 to be over.

Besides the string of unexpected celebrity deaths and the galling election of Emperor Drumpf to the highest position in the world, two wonderful things occurred this year.

The first was the marriage of VPA, my best friend, who married the best man for him. I was telling someone else who had been at the wedding a few months later that my version of heaven would be to relive that weekend on repeat, seeing the two of them get hitched and seeing all sorts of people I knew and loved and hadn't seen in ages. It was a wonderful time, and one of my co-workers even mentioned how refreshed I looked when I returned to work.

And speaking of work, I got promoted. It was a long haul to get there, but it finally came through. I just re-ran my retirement estimator, and it's saying that I'm on track, whereas before it said I needed to put a little extra money away. That's pretty good news. And the saga with the credit cards continues, but I will just keep chipping away at it and try to watch my expenses.

I returned from Vegas on Monday, and would count it as a fun visit, but not as memorable as last year's when both my little sister and my other cousin who I hadn't seen in forever were present. My grandma is also starting to fade. This was not helped by the fact that a friend of hers died while I was there. Still, I hit up the Strip with my aunt, won big, lost big, and made my way back home to my Frisco Disco and Zammers.

I'm taking Raina out for her birthday dinner on Monday, which will coincidentally also be the last day of my vacation I drink. I have Tuesday off which will be spent cleaning, possibly shopping for some new work clothes, hopefully going to the gym, and definitely detoxing. I am sort of awestruck that I will turn forty next year. I suppose it will be similar to when I turned thirty, and woke up that morning thinking, Really? I'm thinking I'll perhaps bring my mom, sister, and nephew up to SF, which will cost me, but, well, anything I do will cost me. And I should probably celebrate this big one in some sort of recognizable way, no? I just can't believe the next big one after that will be fifty. I mean, seriously?

Tomorrow, then we out, saan

I'm still trying to get it right in my head--just one more day of work, then I'm done for two and a half whole weeks. I keep feeling like I'm forgetting something or I've lost something because the reality of it is just too unreal to fathom.

Today was our godawful holiday party, now called the painfully politically correct "end of the year" party (or "end of the world" party, as I dubbed it). I had tried to avoid it by scheduling a 2:00 meeting earlier in the week, but my manager warned that my VP wanted me to be there now that I'm a member of leadership. I showed up in the middle of the stupid white elephant game with the usual people saying, "Wow, look who's here!" and "Didn't expect to see you here! You never come to these things!" I don't think I was there for more than an hour before it was back to the office to wrap things up.

I killed off as much work as I could, delegated a few things to my one superstar analysts, and notified some managers there would be a delay on some items. Made it to the BevMo and got in at least a moderate round of exercise at the gym before closing.

Tomorrow I have to be at HQ for a brainstorming session, so it'll be a cinch, and not a full day. I'm thrilled to pieces, and so ready for these next sweet seventeen days.

After a mild panic attack over the rampant sudden use of my new credit card, I went back to my budget numbers and realized I could still pay it off in a few months. I could even consider dedicating a larger pay off to a different card each month instead of spreading the payments evenly, just to make myself feel like there was more of a dent being made. I still need to keep costs under control--I know. And I should really apply that in 2017.

But in the meantime, I've spared myself $300 to gamble away in Vegas in the hopes I get lucky, which I won't, but hell, it's my fucking Christmas present to myself.

Siete

Seven days.

Just seven days to get through before Winter Break. Seven business days, to be precise. You can't imagine how happy I am to get that lovely streak of free time off.

This shall include the Christmas trip to Vegas to visit at least some of the family. Apparently, some of them want to do their own thing, which irked me at first, but then, after I thought about it, may make for a pleasant change. A smaller group of them to deal with will ensure things are a little quieter, and perhaps allow extra time with Petula. I mean, how many Christmases with her do we have left?

Speaking of major life changes, my dear co-worker Bertha announced she will be retiring in February. Sad to see her go, of course, but just another shift in the every-changing family.

I had gotten sick of all of my casual clothes, so did up Nordstrom's the Monday after Thanksgiving. Just need some new shoes, and will feel like a whole new me. I have steadfastly avoided the skinny jeans thing, but the tide is against me. And I feel like I look like a clown in tennis shoes, but I've lost that battle, too. So an updated look is in order. Then we need to move on to work clothes, but one step at a time.

One thing that will assist in these couture shifts is the new credit card I got--one I did not apply for, but that was converted from an account for medical procedures into a Mastercard with several thousand dollars on it. Being in my current situation, I certainly know better than to go buck wild, but it helps to know I have a back up source of credit in case the poo hits the fan.

Over ever-growing concern about my girth, I went back to avoiding foods packed with refined sugar. And lo, I started to feel much calmer and even-keeled--something that helps in my new leadership position--and have even started to see my waistline shrink every so slightly.

Yeah, it really does help after all, and once you get accustomed to it, it's not so bad.

I can see clearly now the pain has gone

I noticed it about two weeks ago: the sky seemed brighter and the outline of people and things seemed clearer. That's how I know the winter is about to begin.

I had a major snafu that could have resulted in massive overpayments yesterday when I submitted the final file for our company bonus. Luckily my boss caught it, but not before it caused my blood to run cold. The kicker is that yesterday was supposed to be a day off for me. And right after I'd cleaned the apartment and was ready to hunker down and cocktail and YouTube, I got the text from her about the error.

Luckily, it was corrected in time, and I threw myself on the mercy of the court of my boss's eternal criticism, and all seems to be fine.

And that's the last major project of the year for me. I mean, I have a couple more that are pretty large scale, but nothing unwieldy. I so look forward to this time of year when I have plenty of paid holidays and time off of work. And then it will be to Vegas come Christmastime, this time, though, perhaps without the whole family as everyone seems to be doing their own thing this year. No probs on my end. Seeing Petula and just a select few will work just fine.

I turn fucking thirty nine tomorrow. Thirty-fucking-nine! And in keeping with tradition, am not doing anything to celebrate it. Hannah has been trying to work out a taco party night with me to celebrate, but we've had to cancel two proposed dates already. What kind of sucks about all this is that by next year, I really should have something a little more celebratory planned. A trip to NYC or Disneyworld with the boys or the fam? I'd broached the idea of Universal Studios with Reina, and she seemed down with that. Might I possibly have a boyfriend by then who would plan something lovely for me.

Ha!

More than anything, I am hoping that next year will show some progress on the erosion of my credit card debt. Part of that involves hunkering down and taking the bus again instead of Uber ever effing day. This is my new cross to bear, and I gots get through it.

At last my promotion has come along

Yes, it's true.

I wish I could be a bit more elated about it, but the fact that I need it so desperately to thwart my credit card debt kind of puts a bit of a damper on the festivities.

So yes, I'm a supervisor now. Something that I had hoped to put off at least until the tail end of my career since management seems more of a pain than it's worth. And although my boss is a whirling cyclone of negativity, I've just learned to roll with the punches and say "yes, ma'am" when another absurd amount of work comes my way. Luckily, I have a great team, which makes it all a lot easier. And just one of them is the bratty teenager of the bunch who is my pet project to develop and deputize as the new and improved version of me.

I realize, not without a trace of irony, that part of this raise helps to subsidize my Uber addiction, which I primarily take to and from work.

But most importantly, it will help me do battle with the Unlucky Seven™, the name I have dubbed my credit cards. How I put myself in this position after spending a good three years to pay down my previous debt--putting off buying a new bed even as my old one was falling apart, always feeling guilty when I took a cab instead of the bus, carefully counting down how much I could afford on groceries--is galling. I'm especially pissed that I borrowed against my retirement monies to pay some of it down. I have my heart set on retiring at fifty seven, and boy will I be pissed if that day comes around, and I still can't because I didn't have enough in my 401(k).

Fucking lesson learned.

In much more optimistic news, we are coming to the end of the year, and that means Christmas will be here soon. I've booked my flight to Vegas (with points!), and am looking forward to seeing the fam, and especially my aunt's precious dog Cuddles. I've got to work on our annual bonus program next week, which is the last major project of the year for me, and then can coast through the next couple of months with lovely paid holidays.

VPA and Maybelline are to come into town in January, so I'm thinking some Beach Blanket Babylon is in order.

I also had dinner at the Osha with Cara, the sister of VPA's friend Fabiola, last Friday. She's at Berkeley now, and basically a real life America Ferrera. I anticipate many fun times exploring the City with her. We had planned to do the Folsom Street Fair today, but I could just tell when I awoke this morning that it would not be happening, in no small part due to the fact that I only went to the gym once last week, so have a deficient endorphin count which is making me feel like I'm part zombie. Gross.

Hanna moved to the Marina--I know not why--so we're planning a dinner date on Friday along with a tour of her new place. I'm still trying to keep up this doing one fun thing a month jam going, but it's hard considering I don't exactly have swaths of friends to do shit with.

I have upped my weights at the gym, and am rather liking the results. My trainer had emphasized using the weights slowly, which is like effing torture to me. So I just prefer to add more on, and go at my usual "let's get this shit over with" speed. I'll just keep pacing myself and increasing the weights gradually until I have the bulging pecs and 'ceps I've always dreamed of, I suppose, centered 'round my barrel of stomach.

A change is finna come

Grueling.

That's how I would describe the leadership class I had to take on Thursday for my new promotion. When my boss mentioned to my two counterparts at the end of our staff meeting that she had to talk to them about something (the something being that I was being promoted, and they weren't), I knew the deed had finally been done. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting and endless battling with my VP, even to the point where I asked her about it and she broke into tears because it was taking so long, my boss finally secured my promotion. I still have to apply for the damn thing, but this hovering in the greys crap is finally coming to an end, and we can see the sunlight peering through.

And it couldn't happen soon enough.

I'm looking through all of my credit cards to see which one has a sufficient enough balance to use this week, and I had to break out the emergency one I keep at home. My increase is on the lower end, but when I factor in the merit increase I just received, it's not at all bad. I'll also have paid off my Sleep Train balance after next month, and by the end of the year, my Care Credit one, so that will total a little over three hundred extra bucks a month.

So now I have to channel li'l ol me circa 2010-ish when I put my nose to the grind and paid off my credit cards before. We gotta stop the madness over here. This is the last big windfall I'll have for several years, I reckon. If the pooh hits the fan and I have to move out or my grandma dies and I have to catch a quick flight to Las Vegas where she lives to say goodbye, I need to have the moolah to do so.

This has become my life. Ugh.