CRASH!!!

Welp, I went to NYC last week, and I'm back. Honestly, spending 5 days in the Big Apple--16 hours of which were on the train coming and going--is like going to Disney World and being kicked out after 30 minutes. There was so much I didn't get to see and do. I was on my ear to go to a rooftop bar, but that didn't happen. Didn't see Harlem either, but I'm still grateful that I was able to go because Lord only knows when I'll return. Unfortunately, I didn't make a triumphant return to the dirty south with a modeling contract, a high-paying radio gig, or even the phone number of Mr. Right. Bright side? The shopping in New York City is RIGHTEOUS, and by RIGHTEOUS I mean CHEAP, if you know where to go. Luckily, my sorority sister who squired me about town did know where to go, and her fashion sense is astounding. I came back with suitcase full of new clothes. Sure, I'm still an underpaid dj, substitute teacher, and chick who got fired from 2 retail jobs in less than a year, but I'll be dang cute in all the roles I play.

When I stepped off that train at the end of my trip, I was so happy and motivated. People say New York City is dirty, but I was living cleaner than I had in ages. I was down to 1 cigarette a day, I was drinking water instead of sodas, I didn't watch tv and I didn't miss any of it. But just like the energy boost you get from a caffeine pill when you're sleepy, a crash follows. And honey, I've crashed. Hard. I'm back to chain smoking and swilling sodas, smh...I'm still trying to figure out the catalyst.

The Friday before I left for my trip, I found out that a little girl that goes to my church passed away suddenly; she was only 11. Everyone who knew her was thrown for a loop. There's isn't a day that has passed that I haven't thought about her. Her funeral was Saturday, the day after I got home, so maybe my sadness slowed me down a little. I cried for pretty much the entire service. Looking at the obituary and seeing all of the pictures charting her (way too short) life, just did me in. I witnessed her growing up. She was supposed to start middle school in another week, but the Lord had different ideas. I'm not going to go into it any further. If I write any more about her, it will be in a post devoted to her. She was just that spectacular.

I think another contributing factor to my crash was car trouble. Well, in this instance, it was a bald tire. I've had enough flats in my time as a motorist--I'm a wiz at driving over nails and glass--so as a result, I have tire paranoia. I do random walk-arounds inspecting my tires and the morning after I got home discovered "old baldy". The Lord truly is in the blessing business because I called the shop and they told me to bring it in Monday so they could squeeze me in since I didn't have an appointment. I expected an hours-long wait. I was fully prepared to ask for a ride downtown where I was going to walk around and have lunch at a side walk cafe--that's the NYC that's still in me. I was in and out of the shop in 30 minutes though. The owner of the shop is a good Christian man who looks like Santa Claus. The irony isn't lost on me, honey.

Even though the tire situation is solved for now (I still have 3 others to think of after all), my car is really, literally ALL TO PIECES. It's a 2005 Chevrolet. Before I even finished paying on it, I noticed a slight fissure in the dash right at  the windshield. Fast forward to NOW, and I have the mess you see before you: a pie wedge-shaped piece of plastic on the dash held in place by Jesus, and the area around the radio gone all to crap, chunks of plastic dropping left and right. The vents are PERCHED there. As soon as my car is in motion, they fall out. My last car was a Ford Escort. It died on me and sat in my yard for 2 or 3 years before someone bought it. When I went to clean it out after I found a buyer, everything was in 1 piece. No cracks or any foolishness like that. I've encountered other people with the make and model of car I have now that had dashboard issues. Oh, and the gages are effed up too, and I've met other Chevy owners with that problem. SIDE. EYE. I won't have another Chevrolet unless someone gives it to me, and yes, that's a big-arsed hint to anyone with pull at Chevrolet who has any shame and happens to stumble upon this post. Otherwise it's Ford all the way. (Another big-arsed hint.)

 

So, I say all of that to say that I'm really back at square one. I'm praying my phone won't ring and I see SubFinder the caller id, clenching my butt cheeks as I check for available jobs. I won't say I don't want to go to school; I'm just not ready. Not ready at all. I wish I was still in New York.

*I'll post more about my trip later. It may be a series of posts. 

Oops, I Did It Again...

Lord, only me...I guess first and foremost I need to stop acting like I wasn't sitting on this little tidbit of Shellybird news for about 2 months, so here it is. I got fired from the Retailtopia back in June.

AGAIN.

Long story short, I got into a verbal altercation with my assistant manager because I asked for my break, Her response? "Why do you think you deserve a break?"  

Um, WHAT???

                                          

 We had words back and forth on the sales floor (a retail no-no) and a customer reported us. We were suspended and subsequently fired. Actually my assistant manager self-terminated. We had to go in and write statements the day after the incident and explain ourselves, and as bad as the situation seemed at the time, I think our jobs could have been spared. I came in full of explanations and apologies. My assistant manager came in with an attitude. Hood boogers, I tell ya...That of course made the store manager angriER. She fired the assistant manager on the spot, and told me that she would call me and let me know the district manager's decision. I found out by word of mouth about 5 days later that I was fired. I called to confirm, and the rest as they say is history. Eh, it is what it is. That store was ratchet anyway, and rife with unprofessionalism (which I admit I contributed to on the day in question.) You can call it sour grapes if you want, but I didn't belong there and folks were trying me. Newsflash: I am not the one. Overall, I don't like to be bothered, but I will can only be as nice to people as they are to me.

As far as I'm concerned, retail is behind me. I was a little down at first because in the space of time it takes to conceive, gestate, and birth a baby, the most remarkable thing that I managed to do was get fired. Again. When I told my sorority sister about the altercation and suspension at work, she said, "Girrlllll, if it was me and they decided to fire me, I'd be on the first bus or plane to NYC as soon as they cut me loose." She knows I am in a New York state of mind and have been for a good hot minute. However, unlike her and all of my other go-getter friends, I second guess myself out of everything I want in life. My soror also has  tremendous faith in God and believes He allows certain things to happen to get you to where you need to be. She told me that He's removed me from retail twice for a reason, and I suppose He has. But, now what? Well, the same sorority sister (who's given me so much good advice that I've second-guessed myself out of taking) invited me to spend next week in Brooklyn with her and her family. She's been trying to get me up there for a while. She even tried to get me to take the apartment her parents had for rent--mercifully low rent by NYC standards--and I didn't take it, so someone else did. Well I'm going to visit and feel the city again. My train ticket has already been purchased and I printed it out yesterday. I've even dared, with my 43-year-old self, to see which model agencies are having open calls while I'm there. I've found one so far, and I'm going to give them a call in the morning to make sure they'll look at a more "mature" woman. On my first NYC trip, my bestie accompanied me to Wilhelmina Models. They have an older women's division, so I foolishly thought we'd be just as welcome at the open calls as the 7', 100 pound 14-year-olds. Nah. For all of the, "Wow, you don't look your age," remarks that I've heard in my adulthood, I must have looked every split second of the 33 years that I had under my belt in 2005, because my friend and I didn't even make it through Wilhelmina's lobby.

I don't know what's going to happen when I go to New York next week, maybe nothing, maybe everything, but I'm praying for something good great. I know I just said that retail is behind me, but the reality is although I hate it, I'm good at it. It's all I know how to do with confidence. I almost feel like that poor old fella from The Shawshank Redemption when he was released from prison but prison life was all he knew and he couldn't make it on the outside. Well, Brooks Hatlen also committeed suicide. I'm not suicidal, but the lack of self-assurance is something I understand very well.

Shellybird...on the inside

I wish that achieving your dreams was as easy as it used to be back in the day...or as easy as the movies made it seem. People with dreams of stardom or just a different (read: better) life would travel to NYC or Hollywood with $200, a greasy bag of mama's chicken wings, and a dream and somehow come out on top or at least manage to stay in the city of their dreams even if success eluded them. I was watching the Steve Harvey show the other day, and Empire's Taraji P. Henson was on there talking about how she went to LA with $700 and her baby. Look at her now. I feel like if I go to New York with even a million dollars, somehow I'm still going to wind up like this:

Y'all got any more of that success???

I'm praying for something much better though.

Innaweb Findings...

I was puttering around the internet the other night and stumbled upon an awesome blog about bridal (and prom) ideas. At this point in my life, being married has once again become this fanciful, far-off idea, much like it was when I was a little girl. The difference is, back then it was a someday thing. Now it's an "Is it ever going to happen?!" thing. I'm collecting bridesmaid dresses like a boss though; I've got four so far: red, gold, lavender, and violet. And I used to model bridal wear locally...for free...But it was a  priceless experience because it's the closest I ever came to that other fanciful, far-off idea I had: the one of being a model. A girl (or middle-aged woman) can dream, and believe me, I still do. However, for anyone reading this who's been lucky enough to have someone like it and put an engagement ring on it, the blog I linked may be a nice point of reference for you. See? I'm not bitter at all. I'm trying to help.

Couldn't you just die?!

I can just hear the soft rustle of the fabric.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

*None of these pics are my property; I found them on the blog. Of you click the pictures you will see a link to the deer pearl flowers blog. Credit where credit is due.