November 11th.

One of my fellow bell choir members told me tonight that I need to do less drugs before coming to bells. And that about sums up my day.

November 10th.

I had four flights today. Their flight numbers were 3373, 3337, 3377... and 3368. If you were trying to confuse the crap out of me, schedulers, consider your mission accomplished.

Today I took a nap in the crew rest room (not to be confused with restroom) for the first time ever. It was delightful. I dreamt of sushi, which was weird, and I left my coat in the restroom (not to be confused with rest room) afterwards, which was bad.

I am currently in the future (does that even make sense?), but it's not as exciting as it sounds. It's 8:43pm, and I'll be sleeping soon. This is considerably less lame when you consider that I've been up since 4 this morning, and my alarm is set to go off at 3:45 tomorrow morning. Ugh.

Tomorrow will be a very, very long day. But the evening festivities will make it all worthwhile. There are wings or bowling balls in my future. I don't know which yet, but either way, I'm stoked.

Blog!

I am nothing if not a procrastinator.

Somewhere in the middle of October, I found myself perusing the "How to Write Books" books at the bookstore. I looked at the cute little NaNoWriMo-in-a-box kit and thought how fun it would be to participate this year. (NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month, in which you are supposed to write a novel. In a month. It's about quantity, not quality, and it's to get you started and show yourself that yes, it actually can be done.) But, knowing myself as I do, I knew that I wouldn't do it. Or, even if I did decide to, I wouldn't finish. I did think, though, that it would be fun instead to try to blog every day in November. I made a mental note to attempt such a feat.

In case you didn't notice, it's November 9th, and my last entry was almost a month ago.

So that failed.

But I'm here now, so let me tell you a bit about how my life's been since that last entry. In a word: awesome. If I could pick two words, they'd be awesome and busy. More words, and things start getting worse (delayed. unscheduled. smelly. unhealthy.), but really, overall awesome.

I've had some great crews, including a crew on my least favorite plane, for a last-minute overnight that was thrown onto my schedule after a long day of being stuck in one tiny room wih a broken airplane sitting uselessly outside. As unhappy as I was with the change to my schedule, it ended up being one of the best times I've had with a crew.
My bff got and started a job. Not only am I happy for her about this in general, I'm also glad that she's actually liking it so far. A happy her is a happy us.
My cousin who has lived in North Carolina for the past ten years and who I often miss seeing evem when she is in town thanks to my job has just decided to move back to Minnesota.
And, of course, my awesome new boyfriend has given me a plethora of reasons to be smiley and awesome.

As for busy, boy let me tell you. Every month, flight attendants are guaranteed 75 flight hours. When I place my bid every month (aka when I tell the computer what I'd like my schedule to look like the next month, which days I need off, etc), I bid ti get as many hours as possible in as few days as possible, to maximize time off. This month, I also decided to allow my schedule to be built with only one day off in between trips instead of the standard two, in hopes that I would get a nice string of a lot of days off at some point in the month. I had no such luck. In November, I have the minimum number of days off allowed in a month (a mere ten), and 90 flight hours. 90. 90 is a ridiculous number of hours to have built into your schedule, especially for someone as low in seniority as me, and especially considering I didn't request more than the standard 75. In all of November, I never have more than two days off in a row, every single one of my trips is a four-day, and I only have one day off in between some of them.

As I said, besides awesome, my month has been (and will continue to be) busy.

There is a ladybug trying to find a comfortable perch inside my lampshade. Scared the crap out of about two minutes ago.

Anyway, now that it's the second week of November, I'd like to try my November daily blogging goal. I know, I know. You're probably thinking, "Cindy, how on earth will you manage that?"

I guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out.


P.S. I was going to wait to post this so I could look it over on an actual screen instead of here on mypod, but in an effort to kick off blogmonth, fuck that, I'll just post it as-is. Please forgive any typographical errors. Erroneous "b"s are probably supposed to be spaces between words. Kthxbai.

Where to begin?

In reading through some recent posts, I realized a couple of things. Number 1: they're not all that recent. B: I'm effing emo. And lastly: many things have changed.

Right now, I'm wearing blue pajama pants, a brown t-shirt, and a horizontally striped black and white long sleeved shirt. I feel this is important for somebody to know, but I have no idea who. So, you.

It's officially winter, even though it's only early October. I know this because three of my nails have broken in the last two days, and my hands are all dry and red because I didn't put lotion on last night. Unmistakable signs of winter. Also, the snow on the ground and the delays at the airport today were a pretty good indication.

I was on the same plane for nine hours today. Literally didn't even step off to get food or use a real bathroom (stupid airplane lavatories). Shouldn't I be somewhere like England or China by now?

Remember that dating website I joined? Total bust. Not even one awesome person to be found. (Well, maybe just one...) And remember how I'm bad at dating, because I've never really done it? (That's what she said?)

Turns out, I'm not so bad at dating, I'm just bad at finding the right person to date. I've done it, though. I found someone who is pretty darn neat, if I do say so myself. He lives far away, but hopefully not for long. He took me to the aquarium, where I got to learn about seahorses. I love seahorses. I'm shy, and awkward, and he doesn't seem to mind. He watches HGTV with me. He holds my hand and says nice things and likes puns and seems to like me and plays board games with me and he's just making me so much smilier than normal lately, and I'm pretty smiley to begin with.

So there's that.

And other than that, pretty much everything is the same as always.


Oh, crap. What if I AM bad at dating, and he's just too nice to tell me?

Back by popular demand.

It's amazing how fast things can change, unexpectedly, and so much for the better.

I've been at my job over a year. I got a raise, and I can get some new uniform pieces for free, thanks to a yearly uniform money stipend.

Today I learned that mannequin is spelled with a q. Why haven't I known that all along?

Infants cannot be stored in overhead bins, beneath the seat in front of you, or in harnesses attached to one's own body. They must be held during taxi, takeoff, and landing.

Favre has beat every team in the NFL. I don't care who you are or how much you don't care about football, that's impressive. Also, go Twins. Minnesota pretty much is awesome.

I know a lot more than some flight attendants who have been at this job a lot longer than I. This makes me slightly nervous for our passengers. Why are you freaking out about emergency equipment comp checks? You should know this stuff. What if you had an emergency? You should already know what to do! I read my trashy vampire book while my classmates demanded silence in the cafeteria (yeah, good luck with that one) and frantically paged through the review booklet.

Well, not all my classmates. One of my favorite women from our new hire initial training is in my recurrent ground school class this week. I rarely see her around the airport, so I was glad to see her on the list for class. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met. And her hair is like eight feet longer than mine.

Speaking of which, I almost died last weekend thanks to a horrific long-hair-plus-hair-dryer situation. If your hair is inside of a hair dryer and starting to catch on fire a little, how are you supposed to put that fire out when it's impossible to unplug the hair dryer from the wall? Luckily, it did not burst into flames in my hand, and I found the fuse box to ease my nerves even more.

Before that near-near-death experience, I was jinxed into death while driving a long distance in the rain. You can't just tell someone to have a nice drive and to not die. That's why you tell actors to break a leg instead of wishing them luck, and why you don't say "crash" on an airplane.

Luckily, though, I actually survived, and had a couple of the best days I've had in a long, long time. So good, in fact, that I have plans to repeat them this week.

In conclusion, in case anyone was wondering, I can and will kick your ass at Othello.

More than you ever wanted to know...

One day in eighth grade, we all filed to the library and lined up to have our eyes checked. I didn't think anything of it; I could see just fine. I covered my left eye and read all the letters perfectly. I covered my right eye and blinked. "That's weird," I thought. "Ahh, everything must be fuzzy because I had that eye closed. That makes sense." Only, I didn't have it closed, I had it covered with a piratey eye patch on a popsicle stick. I blinked a few more times, leaned forward, and read what I could. The nice lady at the table to the side told me it looked like I'd need glasses. I must have looked stricken, because she told me not to worry and assured me that "glasses are cool!"

It wasn't that I was worried about glasses being uncool; I was already uncool, and I'd made my peace with that. Hell, in kindergarten, I longed for braces, going so far as to get excited when one of my new teeth looked like it was coming in crooked and breathlessly asking my mom, "Do you think I'll need braces??" It's like I was begging to be a nerd. (Not that I've ever need the help of equipment of any kind to achieve nerddom.)

Alas, my teeth are very nearly perfect without the help of any metal at all, aside from the instruments that scrape them sparkly twice a year (and though my kindergarten self is no doubt disappointed, I am glad I never had to deal with braces). It looked like my eyes, on the other hand, would need some help. (Ha! Get it? Looked like? My eyes?) But as I say, I wasn't worried, just confused. Turns out my lack of difficulty seeing stemmed from the fact that my right eye not only needed no prescription, but was actually 20/15, even better than perfect 20/20!

And so it was that on December 31, 1998, I got my very first pair of glasses. (I also got my very first period that day. Because you really needed to know that.) They were round and gold and, frankly, quite terrible, though I didn't think so at the time. I wore them all through high school, and it never even occurred to me to get new frames when I got new lenses.

Having now worn them for over ten years, I've grown quite attached to glasses. Not that first pair, of course, but glasses in general. I think I look ridiculous without them. I did order contacts once, but I think I wore it (I say it, not them, because if you'll recall, my right eye needed no correction. I thought about getting a monocle, but there are just none to be had) maybe three times. I just like myself better in glasses. (I like boys better in glasses, too, in case you were wondering.)

Recently, I've been noticing a certain lack of clarity, a sure sign it's time for new glasses. My latest pair has treated me well, but when you have vision insurance, why not get an entirely new pair? So I did. My new glasses came in yesterday, and I'm so in love with them.

I hope black, chunky, rectangular glasses don't go out of style anytime soon, or I will be sorely out of luck. I'm going to be that old lady who looks ridiculous because she refuses to let go of the fashions of her younger self.

Luckily, I made my peace with being a huge nerd a long time ago.


Now, for your viewing pleasure, a pictorial history of my face.

Here's a picture of me in sixth grade, pre-glasses:

I know it's sixth grade, because you can see the bright yellow cast on my right arm. I wonder why I chose yellow?

This lovely specimen is from our eighth grade field trip to D.C.:


This is from, I believe, senior year of high school. Notice I'm still wearing the same round, gold glasses. Also notice, I'm meeting Christopher Moore. <3


The summer after senior year, it finally occurred to me to get new frames. I have a small head, and ended up getting a pair from the children's section. They were Barbie brand.

I look, what, 13 here? I was 18. This next one is just because it makes me smile.

Look how close I was to that panda!!!!

For my next new glasses, I upgraded to chunky and plastic.

Also from the children's section, these were brown on the outside and blue on the inside, and they had hearts on the sides. Hearts!


After those, I went to America's Best and got TWO pairs of glasses at the SAME TIME! Note: don't do this. Waste of money. I think I wore this first pair less than ten times ever.

Blue and metal and cute, I just never switched it up like I thought I would. Here's the pair I've been wearing for the majority of the past two-ish years:


And, at long last, the glasses I wore home yesterday:




Coming soon to a blog near you: a post about something INTERESTING!

...

Maybe.

Do you ever wonder...

...who the hell invented knitting? And how?!

...who the first person was to decide pineapples looked delicious and should be eaten?

...how language came to be? Like, how words came to be so specific, and how the alphabet was decided, and why things evolved in one direction instead of another?

...why people like horror movies and thrill rides so much?

...why sports figures get paid millions a year while teachers sometimes barely make a livable wage?

...what the point is?

Double

Someone once told me that it's like I have two lives: my family-friendly version, and the real version. I wonder who among us doesn't.

It's weird how knowing my readership (kinda sorta a little bit) changes what I write. It's weird that there are things I'm willing to share and discuss with virtual strangers, but wouldn't dream of telling my mother. It's weird that, if you were all indeed perfect strangers, you'd probably be learning a lot more about me right now.

Bonus! A milestone.

Two posts in one day? Quick, someone take my temperature!

Ahem. Anyway...


Just over a year ago, I was returning from Florida. I had a few more shot glasses for my collection, a few more freckles, and one killer pair of red suede pumps. The flight attendants on our plane were brusque, unsmiling, and generally not awesome. I knew I'd be better at it than them. I knew I loved flying. And then something clicked.

I didn't tell anyone my thoughts right away, but I went onto the website for the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. One by one, I looked up every airline they listed as flying out of MSP. Most weren't hiring, most weren't actually based in Minneapolis. And then, halfway through the list, my search was over. They were hiring. They were based in the Twin Cities area. To start the application process, you had to attend an open house informational session slash group interview; there were three coming up within the next week and a half.

It seemed almost too easy. It seemed like fate.

I donned my killer black pencil skirt and tucked a crisp white shirt into it. I pulled my hair back and put on one of my favorite pairs of shoes. I took notes at the informational open house, I rocked all the questions they asked and activities they had us do. I was tall enough and not too tall.

They told us we'd hear from them by that Friday (I think it was a Tuesday). By Thursday, I had an interview scheduled.

One year ago today, I was interviewed and hired on the spot. Within 45 minutes of my scheduled interview time, I was filling out paperwork and getting initial training materials. One year ago today, I became a flight attendant.

Of course, training didn't start until the 29th, so I have to wait till the end of the month to get my raise. But the one year anniversary of being hired at my very first full-time job ever seemed like it deserved a mention regardless.

The internet is really really great.

I've done it. I've joined a dating website.

Actually, I joined three. But two of them required payment to do ANYthing, which angered me, so I almost immediately canceled both of them. The third, though, turned out to be the charm.

Remember the passenger on my plane who asked for my number? I gave it to him with a smile, but I was unsure of my willingness to actually pursue anything there. He was clearly older than I am, but I was unsure how big the age gap was. I wondered to myself how much older I was willing to go. Five years? Very probably. Six or seven? Maybe. Ten? Now we're getting iffy. Well, he emailed me (I'd given him my email along with my number, because I'm very aware of my ridiculous aversion to talking on the phone, especially with someone I hardly even know), and I did what any woman of the 21st century would do when armed with a man's full name: I googled him. As it turns out, he's 20 years older than me. TWENTY.

Le sigh.

So I turned down RampManMcTextsALot (see: here and here), and now I'd written off my latest potential man. Contrary to appearances, though, I still was (am!) willing to date, willing to actually go out with someone. I just generally trust my gut about these things, and my gut was not fluttering in the good way with either of these guys. But I was running out of hope of meeting someone the "normal" way, running out of options in real life.

So I thought, well? Why not try online dating? It certainly can't worsen my track record... right?

In a matter of hours after creating my profile, I was inundated with messages. Talk about flattering. Not that I'm expecting anything to come of most of them ("Hey your cute lets chat?" Thanks but no thanks, sweetheart. I'm a fan of full sentences.), but some of them are actual people. If nothing else, it is quite the boost to my ego. Redheads get a lot of attention, it would seem.

So here I am. Putting myself out there, into the universe. And I think the universe might be noticing.

(I'm a fan of full sentences, yes, but apparently I'm perfectly ok with starting sentences with conjunctions on a regular basis.)

I have a few guys who actually seem interesting, and who I wouldn't be opposed to meeting sometime. Mostly I'm just intrigued by it all, and curious to see where it takes me. Adventures galore, or more missteps? An exciting combination of both? Only time will tell.

Just for fun, here is, verbatim, my favorite message I've received so far: "mmmm yummy"