roughin' it

Today my editor sent me out to explore the town and familiarize myself with a camera.



Boy, what a drag.

Love always,
molly

for molly: with love and squalor*

It's a long drive to Port Townsend.

It only gets longer when it takes an hour to travel the last mile to the ferries in Seattle because a soccer game just let out and all the crazy Sounders fans are clogging up the road. And when you stop for 45 minutes just before the bridge to Port Townsend for no apparent reason. And when you went to bed at 3:45 after packing up your life and were woken up by your loving mother at 6:40, only to have her conk out in Yakima and force you to drive all the way to Bellevue. Thanks, Mom. Someday I'll get you back.

Let me say something: Never trust apartment photos. My publisher/boss had me thinking that I was moving into the cutest, most spacious apartment in the world. I attribute this falsehood to absentmindedness rather than spite. The fact of the matter is, when we arrived here, we found that the charming little beaut hadn't been properly cleaned in - I'm not joking - 35 years.

Apparently the old owner of the paper had this random Chinese guy living up there for 35 years and never changed the rent, so when he finally kicked it in the past couple years, he was still only paying $25/month. Come on, now - if you don't have to spend money on rent, couldn't you have shelled out a few bucks for, I don't know, A MOP?!

Or a toilet brush. Eesh. My mom spent 3 hours cleaning the bathroom. She now has no fingerprints. Bleach goes quickly here.

Saturday night was hard. Never again will I take for granted my mom's OCD cleaning habits. I was afraid to touch anything. Couldn't put my bag on the floor - gag - couldn't set it on the kitchen table, or the counters, or the bed. What I thought was a pretty, old-fashioned carpet in the bedroom is actually a cleverly disguised slab of linoleum, patterned to look like carpet. Tricksters. The feeling of grit beneath my flip flops just about killed me.

So my wonderful mother called my editor/boss and ultimatum-ed the crap out of him. (Not really. Even confronted with 35 years of grime, my mom's still a sweetheart. I don't know how. Moms are magic.) She said that unless he got someone in here to help us clean, she couldn't leave me here. I love my mom.

We spent the night at my Aunt Jessie's house (which was spotless!!) and went to church in the morning. When we got back to the apartment, we found a blessing by the name of Allegra, busily scrubbing the kitchen cabinets. She's coming back tomorrow to scrub the floors. I love Allegra.

Last night I finally unpacked, after bleaching the dresser, the kitchen drawers & shelves, the closet, the desks...the everything. It's getting there. And it smells clean. Quite a feat, for the oldest 2-story stone building in the state. (Yeah. For reals. Who knew.)

What it all comes down to, really, is perspective. I could freak out and give up and go home, or I could get down and tackle it one square foot at a time and remember that it must have been clean once upon a time, and it can return to that state somehow.

And if I lose sight of that, I can always just walk down outside to the water. Again, I'm a block from the ocean.

God knows how to take care of me.

Love always,
molly

*Anyone who knows my short-story reference gets a hug.

where do we go & how come it's so hard?

I got a job at Sears when I was home from school over Memorial Day weekend. I walked in, applied, got hired the same afternoon. Not exactly on my "most exciting moments of all time!" list.

I've worked there for about a week and a half now, and I almost hate it. The people are okay (even if they do say things like, "If it don't have a pink tag, it don't go there." DOESN'T, people, COME ON!) and I like my managers quite a bit, and I even got to practice Spanish with a customer once. But it's just...menial. I hope that's the right word; it's the one that keeps running through my head as I work there. All I do is rearrange clothes. I move clearance from one rack (sorry, "quad") to another, I put new merchandise out on the floor, I clear out the fitting rooms and spend hours wandering around, trying to find where the left-behinds are supposed to go.

I hurry through all these tasks because, subconsciously, I have something more important to do, but then I remember - there is nothing else to do. This is the only job. Nothing important awaits me. All I have to do is put away clothes.

And it kills my feet. So, yeah. No love lost between Sears and me. (Sears and I? Whatever.)

So then yesterday, I got an e-mail from the journalism advising office - they send them out to all majors every week - that announced an immediate opening for a news intern at the Port Townsend Leader. Apartment included, $500/month stipend. Sounds like a perfect opportunity - and the perfect escape from Sears.

I called the publisher, then sent him my clips and my letter of interest. I talked to him earlier today, gave him the name of a professor who could recommend me, then went out to lunch with my little brother. Just as we finished eating, I got a call - "Molly, Roger [the prof] thinks you're great. We'd like to offer this to you, if you're still interested."

At that moment, the thrilling possibility of leaving Sears behind me forever was such a beautiful thing that I pumped the air with me fist, right there in the restaurant. "YES! Yes, I'll take it!"

But almost as soon as I got off the phone with him, I started to feel....lost. Port Townsend is way over on the other side of the state - I don't know anyone there. I'd be living in an apartment by myself, working with people who are closer to my parents' age than to mine. It'd be great experience, no question, but....I'd miss out on everything here.

And okay, most people hate the Tri-Cities and would say there's nothing to miss. But I've been having a good time here - going to kickboxing and the Racquet Club with my little brother, hanging out with people from church, enjoying the sunshine, the home-cooking...I've never been away for a summer.

And this is different from taking off for Spain for a semester. I had a good group of friends going into that, and I was going to classes with people my age. It was a whole city of college students.

Port Townsend? What do I know about Port Townsend? I think it's more small-town than the TC.

I was excited about just hanging out with people this summer. I'm an E! How am I supposed to survive 2 1/2 months living by myself?

This happened in the space of 24 hours, from the first e-mail notification to the job offer. I didn't really consult God on any of it. How do I know if this is where I'm supposed to be?

Love always,
molly

tonta

quiero ligar.

joder que gilipollas soy.

Amor para siempre,
molly

more family

So I talked to my birthmom on Wednesday for the first time.

She likes me.



I can't believe this is finally happening.

Love always,
molls

P.S. I am NEVER having kids. You know why? Stephanie has twins. She has siblings who are twins. She has aunts who are twins. Ain't no way in hell I'ma have TWO babies pop outta me at once. Nuh-unh.

but wouldn't it be sweet if I had a twin?

weeeeeird....

flattened.

I have been listless and vaguely frustrated for months. I'm not excited about anything. The last thing I can remember being truly madly excited about was Spain.

Why the hell did I even go? What good came out of that experience? I can speak Spanish now. That's it. Since then, I have been one giant ball of disappointment to myself. I don't do anything worthwhile. This is not a pity-party; just fact. I do nothing. I feel nothing. Just this heavy boredom, weighing down on me, stealing my motivation and my once-unstoppable drive for success.

School frustrates me - rather, my current approach to school frustrates me. I used to be so ambitious! I used to work so hard. I've got papers in 2 of my 3 classes that are already late; one of them, I don't think it'll actually matter, but the other one, I just...stopped working on the night before it was due. I'll be docked .5 of a grade point for that. And there's no reason for it - there's no reason I couldn't have gotten it done. I know this stuff. Heart of Darkness, imperialism - we covered this senior year. I actually read all the material this time. What is my problem??

Where is God in the midst of this? I feel like such a fraud. Same old problem. Interviewing for student leadership and Camp Side-by-Side in the past couple weeks, I straight-up lied about where I am with God right now. Where I am with God is nowhere. I talk to him when I want something. I don't feel him. I don't feel anything.

I want to wake up kicking and screaming.

Love always,
molly

self-deprecation: because it goes well with my m&ms

Fact:

I'm 20 years old.

Fact:

I am undateable.

Fact:

I need to stop dwelling on this.

Conclusion:

Easier said than done.


Love always,
molly