Joy's Journal

If you ever really want to get inside the real men’s mind all you need to do is get a job at Victoria’s Secret. I have worked there for the past year on and off and let me tell you, you wouldn’t believe some of the people I have encountered.
I just returned for the holiday season and I already had yet another interesting encounter and the first thing I thought of is wow this would be such a good blog idea, a compilation of some of my best stories. So I’m writing them down now.

- Valentine’s Day last year-
My manager and I were working alone when the phone rang. My manager answered it and checks something on the computer. She then proceeded to get quiet. Then she hung up the phone and looked at me. She then told me that she felt really bad because the lady that had just called asked her to check the number on a product. So she figured the lady shopped here a lot and had just gotten her bill and forgot what she bought. So my manager checked it and it was a lace teddy outfit. So then the lady asked her what a teddy was so she described it to her. The lady then said, “I see, Yea my husband just gave me my Valentine’s gift this morning because he has to “work late” tonight but it was a cotton nightgown. Then I was doing the laundry and found this receipt in his pocket.” My manager was like, Hm…I’m sure he was “working” that night.

On that note, I cannot even begin to tell you how many other men came in around Valentine’s Day and came right out and asked us to help them find gifts for their wives and mistresses. Seriously after working there I have such a newfound disgust for men, I never knew how many men really do cheat on their wives. It’s disgusting.

-Sometime around Christmas last year-
I’m standing on the floor talking with another sales associate. This man comes over and is holding a couple of different nightgowns and lingerie sets. He holds them up and asks me which ones I like better. So I pick two out and tell him I like those the best, but his opinion should be what he follows. He then tells me that he agrees with me and thinks he’ll get those. Then he says that he’s just not sure about the size. So I say well how tall is the person you’re buying for? He then says, well actually she’s about your size and measurements could you just try it on for me and I’ll see how it looks on you. I looked at him and realized that he really was serious. I finally said to him, I’m sorry sir that’s not in my job description, they definitely do not pay me enough to model lingerie for you and walked away.

-The other day-
I was blessed with the fun job of standing out on the demo cart outside the store flagging down mall shoppers to stop and try our new cologne Very Sexy for Him II that just came out last month. So this huge 300 pound black man comes over and stops by the cart and squirts it on himself and comes up in my face and is like “How does it smell on me? Does it make me very sexy?” I seriously was ready to die. A couple of my coworkers were standing by the door and had to move back in the store and I could hear them laughing at me from behind the window. He had me pinned up by the window trying to make me smell the cologne on his neck. “I really like this cologne; I think I’m going to get it. Do you think I should get it?” I just said well you can go inside and have one of the sales associates help you if you want to get a bottle for yourself. So he goes inside and one of the girls helps him for a little while but of course he didn’t end up buying. He then leaves the store and tries to get my attention but thankfully I was helping other people at that time. So he walks down a way and then all of a sudden turns around and comes back when he sees the people I was helping leave. He came back over and gets really close to me again, “I just had to tell you that I think you are one of the most beautiful girls in the world and had to ask you if you were involved with anyone?”
I looked at him and said, “Yea I am, Very involved with someone. Sorry.” Finally he backed off after that. I wanted to say, sorry buddy trying to pin a girl to a wall isn’t going to win her over.

Just to remind you once again, these are all TRUE stories. All I can say is that going to work is indeed an adventure.

During my freshman year of college my dad’s cousin, Roy, got married in Virginia. Now this was an interesting experience because this was his third marriage. Yet he firmly believes that the 3rd time will be the charm. This time he asked my father to be his best man. The other two weddings were pretty small so we always managed to get out of them, but this one was his bride’s first and she happens to be a rich girl from the Chesapeake Bay area with a daddy in the crabbing business. She wanted the real deal and decided to make this wedding HUGE. So the entire New York family decided to go down and make it a family reunion type deal.

The weekend started out pretty cool, we come from a small immediate family with only 4 cousins. Two of them live down in Texas and we really never see them, they decided to not make an appearance at the wedding either. The other two cousins, Luke and Tina, live only 4 towns over from my sister and me, but they are a lot older than us and we don’t see them very often. Tina actually lives down in D.C now. So the nice part about this weekend is that Keri and I got to spend a lot more time with Luke and Tina than we have in awhile.

We also never really see my dad’s family from Virginia and only met our second cousins, Robert, Charles, and Andrew (Roy’s kids from his first two marriages) once or twice in our lives. Robert and Charles are actually a lot closer to my sister and my age so we discovered that we had a lot in common with these boys we really never had known before.

Friday night was the rehearsal dinner followed by a large party at the bride’s house. This was basically where we met Robert and Charles for the first time. We hung out with them for awhile and then I went off with my older cousins Luke and Tina and started drinking a couple of beers. After the party we went back to our hotel, which was really a little country house in the middle of nowhere, and we got a couple of 24 packs and drank some more. The four of us, Luke, Tina, Keri, and myself stayed out till about 5 in the morning, sitting outside on the porch swing, drinking and talking all night. I think it seriously might be one of the first times that Luke and Tina treated my sister and I like equals instead of their baby cousins.

The next day at the wedding we all sat at a table together, and Luke kept feeding me glasses of white wine. It unfortunately rained and the wedding was outside, so we had to stay under a tent. My high heeled shoes kept getting stuck in the grass so I ended up taking them off and walking around in my bare stockings. We were having a great time and all the cousins decided to hit the dance floor. The dj then decided to play New York New York in honor of the New York family. So we all lined up and were doing a kickline. I was getting a little to into it and all of a sudden the combination of my couple of glasses of wine, which hits me a lot sooner than beer, and my stockings made my legs go flying out from under me and because my arms were still wrapped in the kickline, I couldn’t even put them out to protect myself. I landed face first on the dance floor with my dress flipped over my head. Everyone around me started dancing and I got up off the floor covering my face with my hands. My sister was staring at me and she told me later that she had been afraid that I had broken my nose. She made me take my hands away from my face and suddenly she broke into hysterics.

“What?” I asked her and looked around. Then all my cousins started to crowd around me and they all started laughing too.

“What?” I asked again starting to get upset. Finally my sister pulled herself together enough to answer me.

“You cracked your front tooth in half.”

“WHAT??” I immediately burst into tears. “How bad does it look?” I asked. Nobody answered me. Instead they all just laughed, which made me cry harder. My sister made everybody stop dancing and was crawling around on her hands and knees on the dance floor looking for my tooth. Luke came up behind me and pretended to give me a comforting hug, but then snapped a picture when my guard was down.

“Luke!” Tina yelled and hit him in the arm. She then led me away to my mother with her arm around me. My mother made my dad get my stuff quickly and we got ready to leave. I stood there crying more for awhile making a scene, my drunken state was definitely not helping matters, before we finally left and I got to duck out from further embarrassment.

Although I drove home with my parents to New York and my dentist saw me immediately the next day and at least glued my tooth back together so I could finish school. It took a root canal and the whole summer of porcelain molds and matching colors to replace my tooth unnoticeably. I also have to deal with this wonderful experience still coming up at every family event. Luke gave my sister a copy of the picture for blackmail last Christmas Eve, and when my Virginia cousins came up to visit last summer, the first thing they asked was how my tooth was. This will definitely be one of those embarrassing family moments that I will not live down and will probably come up in someone’s wedding toast at my own wedding.

The whole point of this blog posting is to get feedback right? Well I was looking for a place to post some of my work besides classwork. I used to post it on Writing.com, but my free folder has reached its limit and I don't feel like paying for more space. Besides there's so many people on those websites that you have no clue if people are really seeing your work anyway. So I decided to post it here. So enjoy.

As a woman in today’s society, we constantly have to put up with a lot of romantic obstacles. Guys constantly let us down and fail to understand us. Every female reaches the point at some time in their lives where they ask why do we put ourselves through this? When do guys ever grow up and stop being immature and stupid?

My friends from home and I all went to an all girl high school. Our lunchtime conversations were often times dominated by all out guy bashing sessions since there were none around to overhear us. One of our favorite ideas was this joke about men being locked in cages and used for mating purposes only. When it comes down to it, men are stupid and annoying and truly unnecessary for really anything else but their role in mating.

In scientific studies it has been shown that female praying mantises and spiders eat or kill males after mating. Maybe they have the right idea. A little drastic yes, but how do we know that the female insects are not really more intelligent in handling their male population than female humans? Why do we keep them around to toy with our emotions on a day to day basis when they’re really not worth the time and energy we waste worrying about them?

What is the real deal with men? No female can understand them. We speak different languages, have different priorities and truly might be from different planets. I can’t help but relate to the female insects, they might have the right idea to use men for their sole purpose in life, to procreate and continue life, and then dispose of them. No fuss, no emotions, no inferior beings on earth. We really wouldn’t be at that much of a loss.

Just think about it, females would rule the world. We’d have the best jobs, without that jerk making sexist remarks that make us all feel uncomfortable. We wouldn’t have to worry about trying to prove ourselves because people don’t think that we can handle the pressures of the same jobs that men undoubtedly can handle. Female firefighters and police officers would be offered the utmost respect because no one would know any differently. There would be no immature boys spitting out their drinks and using corny pick up lines to try to get in your pants because they have miniature rockets in theirs. Girls wouldn’t have to worry about checking their drinks at bars and parties because there would be no boy trying to slip them a drug to take advantage of them later. Women would be able to walk to their cars at night without feeling threatened because there would be no men to attack or take away their dignity. There would be more peace and less hate in the world because if you really look at it most wars are caused by men and their pride. There would be no stereotypes of housewives whose role is supposedly to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen providing her husband’s meal. There would be no abusive relationships because there would be no domineering male who feels its okay to slap “his” woman around. Most of all there would be no broken hearts because there would be no men to take a woman’s vulnerability and love and throw it away.

Seriously if you think about it the world can be an ugly place and men are a good part of it. Maybe those insects are drastic but they might be onto something there when it comes to eliminating the males. Men should be shaking when they come up to women. Maybe those female insects just decided they had enough of all the stuff men put them through. Maybe they saw the light and were like, well we need them to reproduce to keep the species going, but that’s about all we need them for. So we’ll let them live long enough to do their duty and once they’re done we’ll eliminate them. It’s just species control, I mean how many men do we really need in the world? Since we are humans I guess we can be a little more sensitive on the subject and not kill them all, but I’m not opposed to keeping them locked in cages and using them for mating purposes only. The world might really be a better place.

Do you ever sit up at night and look down upon him?
Watch his chest rising and falling slowly?
Look at his peaceful face that almost looks childish in the moonlight?
Then as you lay back down next to him,
he will roll over and encircle you with his arm.
You will feel his warm breath on your neck,
And feel your body slowly adjust and conform to the curve of his, as you become one
A piece of your hair will move against your face with the rhythm of his breathing
You then will sigh peacefully and close your eyes,
to fall asleep in the arms of your loved one

The woman walked into the dark room with her two daughters behind her. All the shades were drawn and the room had that heavy smell of sickness. There was the sound of the IV drip and the beep from the machines overshadowing the silence of the rest of the house. In the corner of what used to be the family room, was her mother’s bed. She sat her daughters down in the two recliners that were the last semblance of normality in the room. She then took a deep breath and walked slowly over to the bed.

Once she got closer she took a short intake of breath in shock, she then recovered and spoke, “Hey Mom how you feeling today?” The fragile figure looked up from where she lay among the pillows. She had a faraway look in her eyes. She lay there unable to move her body from below her waist. She wore a pale, knit yellow nightshirt that showed how frail her body looked buried in her bed. The old woman finally managed to reach up a hand to the woman. Her once perfectly manicured hand was now chipped and cracked. The woman looked down at the figure in the bed; the woman that could once command the attention of anyone in a room as soon as she entered it, was now completely helpless.

The home nurse came into the room and began to change the IV bag.

“How has she been today?” the woman asked.

“She’s been pretty calm; she’s been off in her own world for the most part. Its good that you’re here though,” the nurse answered.

“Where’s my father?” the woman asked.

“He’s downstairs resting; he was up all night with her. He refuses to leave her side even though there’s a nurse here to help. He’s a good man,” the nurse answered. She then turned to leave the room. The old woman began to wheeze as she tried to take a deep breath.

“Are you okay mom?” the woman asked. The old woman didn’t answer. “How about I do your nails for you mom? They have gotten a little ratty since you haven’t been able to go to the salon in so long.” She took a nail file out of her purse and took the old woman’s weak hand into her hand and began to file her mother’s nails. The two little girls watched from their chairs as their mother lovingly filed and then repolished the old woman’s nails. They then watched as their mother got up and stood over her mother’s bed and brushed her hair for her.

Suddenly the old woman began wheezing again, she then began screaming out in terror, “Frank! Frank! Where is Frank?” An old man came running into the room over to his wife’s side. He gathered her up into his arms, “I’m here honey, I’m here I won’t let anything happen to you.” He held her and brushed his fingers through her hair and kissed each of her eyelids and her cheeks.

“Help me Frank, I’m not ready to die yet,” the old woman sobbed.
“Shh, Don’t worry I’m here,” he said. The two little girls were huddling in the corner hiding in fear, the younger one whimpering quietly into her older sister’s shoulder. The woman looked from her mother crying to her father and then back over to her own children. As much as she didn’t want to leave her own mother’s side, she knew that her children were frightened by their grandmother’s outburst and she had to protect them right now.

“Come on girls let’s go.” She gathered the girls’ coats and pushed them towards the door. They then got into the car and began to drive in silence. Then the woman suddenly jerked the steering wheel and pulled over to the side of the road where she broke down and began sobbing hysterically. The girls sat in the back seat and looked at each other not knowing what to do. The older of the two unbuckled her seat belt and looked over her mother’s seat, she put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and said,

“Don’t worry mom, you said before that the angels were watching over grandma, so they’re helping her now.” The woman looked at her daughter with her teary eyes.
"Oh sweetie, come here.” She then grabbed her daughter and pulled her to her. They then sat there, the woman holding her daughter in her lap and rocking back and forth crying into the little girl’s blonde hair.

That was the first time I ever saw my mother cry; the day that I saw her as more than just my mother. That day I saw her as a human being with her own feelings; she was a little girl crying because she was losing her mommy.

My writing challenge this week was getting a blog up..lol, been a bit crazy lately. No seriously, my challenge for myself this week was trying to get over my crutch of "telling the story". Although I again used a conversation narrative style, I tried to use description and some of my sister's own words to portray and develop her character. So I hope I finally managed to show more instead of telling.

When you sit in my house and listen, you will pretty much ALWAYS hear music blasting from the upstairs room on the left side of the house. Now the interesting part is the choice of music. The first song might be “On My Own” from Les Miserables, then you might hear an assortment of Flogging Molly, Homegrown or Taking Back Sunday for awhile. Then it switches completely to Josh Grobin and then again to Simon and Garfunkel. To say that the musical choices are puzzling is an understatement. But that is my sister…a puzzle to us all.

Whenever anyone meets my sister the first words out of their mouths are “That’s your sister?” They’re always shocked. And honestly if I didn’t know it to be true I’d probably question it myself. To say we are polar opposites is again, an understatement. We are on completely different spectrums. But that is what makes our relationship so special. I’m the hopeless romantic, and she’s the obnoxious, loud one, always equipped with a facetious comment or some witty retort. The thing is; she happens to be the funniest person I know, although of course I would never actually tell her that. It’d boost her ego too much.

When we were younger my mother used to always dress us in those cute, little matching outfits. Maybe that is the reason that we grew to have such different tastes. A rebellion from conformity or something to that nature I guess. I went for more of the preppy, trendy look, or BORING, YAWN according to Keri. And Keri, well I’ll let her tell you herself, this was her response when I actually asked her today.

ScarletOhara0721: what kind of look are u actually? Punk? skater? bum?
HIGHNOTES29: DO NOT CLASSIFY ME!
ScarletOhara0721: lol
ScarletOhara0721: I need to give some classification for people to picture you
HIGHNOTES29: I AM MY OWN PERSON
ScarletOhara0721: I am soooooooo clipping this for my piece
HIGHNOTES29: I AM UNIQUE
And there you have it folks, she is unique. Basically she walks around in parachute pants, converse sneakers, and gloves with no fingers. She’s one of those…

Keri happens to have the most amazing soprano voice I have ever heard. Now naturally I am prejudiced because she is my sister, but seriously, she is really good. She trains with a woman who has trained some of the best in New York and has even had one of her students become one of the leads in Les Mis on Broadway. The funny thing is that Keri sings opera. So take a moment to picture this, my punkish, oh excuse me, “Unique” sister, singing opera. Yeah you wouldn’t really see that right? Well that she does, and takes it ridiculously seriously too.

She has also trained in the city for acting and musical theater. Keri’s dream was to be Cosette in Les Miserables. She went to see Les Mis seven times. I’m not joking. She has memorized EVERY line from that play, enough to drive the entire family crazy because she would walk around the house reciting them. The day it closed down, she walked around in black because she was in mourning and played the cd on repeat over and over and over in tribute. Did I mention she was also slightly deranged? So after she got over nursing her loss, she said she’ll settle for Christine in Phantom of the Opera to set her sights on.

Keri is not the type of person I would usually be friends with. In fact if we weren’t sisters, we probably wouldn’t talk. We joke about this all the time. For us, we’re obviously stuck with each other, so over the years we’ve learned to make it work. When I really sit down and think about it, I realize that my sister is my best friend. Although she is constantly impatient with me and doesn’t see the importance in some of the things that I agonize over, she is always there for me, even if she’s making fun of me for it.

ScarletOhara0721 (3:41:53 PM): Hey
HIGHNOTES29 (3:42:20 PM): wow someone is a lossssssssssssssssssssssssssser
HIGHNOTES29 (3:42:24 PM): L
ScarletOhara0721 (3:42:29 PM): lol why?
HIGHNOTES29 (3:42:40 PM): ^
ScarletOhara0721 (3:53:40 PM): so u like the new screenname?
HIGHNOTES29 (3:54:01 PM): notice y i said ur a .... L
ScarletOhara0721 (3:54:06 PM): and why is that?
ScarletOhara0721 (3:54:11 PM): how did u even know it was me?
HIGHNOTES29 (3:54:26 PM): at least its better that ur lily one that u made when u were 14
HIGHNOTES29 (3:55:02 PM): haha hmmmmmmm let me think...maybe cuz ur a creature of nature...n no one else would b that much of a nerd
ScarletOhara0721 (3:55:10 PM): lol
ScarletOhara0721 (3:55:23 PM): i thought it was original
She never did appreciate Gone with the Wind, even if it was my favorite book. I think she fell asleep in the first twenty minutes of the movie when I tried to make her watch it with me.

One thing I really have learned is that one of the best gifts in life is a sister. I’ve been blessed to have one that truly is mature for her age, and honestly although she is only 16, probably takes better care of me sometimes than I even get to for her. And even though she is stronger than me and has beaten me up since the day she learned how to walk, and even though she makes fun of me probably at least ten times a day, and even though I tried to sell her to this really nice family at the beach one day when I was four (They were really were nice I swear, and they were interested also, I could have gotten at least a hundred for her) I don’t know what I’d do without her.

She can always put a smile on my face, and brighten my day. She’s always good for a story, and I wouldn’t date any guy that doesn’t get her stamp of approval, although only the guy I’m currently dating has ever gotten that. She’s a little overprotective. She was my playmate when I was younger, and my shoulder to lean on now. And supposedly siblings only get closer with age; I guess that means there are only more good times to come.

“Next stop Penn Station New York!” I mark the page in my book even though I haven’t really been concentrating on it anyway. I think I am actually on the same page that I was on when I left Massapequa. My mom looks over and smiles at me and then pats my hand.

“Almost there. You’ll be fine, just take a deep breath and try to relax.” I manage a weak smile in return. I reach up to pat my hair, yup, it it’s still cemented into place with all the hair spray I had put in earlier, there is no way that bun is budging.

I reach down for my dance bag and for the fifth time do a check to make sure everything is there, tights, spare leotard, pointe shoes, what else is there? I feel like I forgot something.

“Oh no mom I forgot a water bottle!”

“Don’t worry we’ll get one in Penn Station” my mom answers. The train finally rolls into the station and we get off and run to get a water bottle. Then we finally emerge onto 7th Avenue.
T
here is nothing quite like the feeling of New York City. There is that fast paced movement of everyone having a place to go, there is the scent of steam mixed with hot dog vendors and gas; there is the noise of horns, people, sirens, and construction. There is no place like it in the world. To a native New Yorker it is welcoming and comforting, taking you back into the folds of a city that has everything to offer and accepts anyone.

Today we are rushing down 32nd street and finally arriving to our destination, 30 East 32nd in between Madison and Park. From the outside it appears to be a Korean church, but once we are buzzed inside and the elevator brings us to the 3rd floor, we are brought into another dimension.

The doors open to classical music being played on the piano, girls stretching in the middle of hallways with their legs in the most unnatural positions I have ever seen. There are 2 girls leaning against a wall with their legs literally over their heads. I try to stay in the elevator but my mother pushes me out and makes me go into the dressing room to get changed.

The dressing room is filled with girls and women who are so comfortable with each other they are having conversations while they are still completely naked putting their tights and leotards on. I hide in a corner feeling completely awkward in this new situation. I emerge and find some space at one of the barres and sit on the floor to try to copy some of the people around me in their warm up stretches. I look over to my mother who has found a chair in the corner to watch my first class. She waves and smiles again. Then everyone stands up and Sallie Wilson, former principal dancer for American Ballet Theater, comes walking in.

“Everyone take your places, we will begin now,” she says. I freeze, she is teaching our class?? I am going to take a class taught by Sallie Wilson? I suffer through the next hour and a half. I have never taken such a difficult class in my life. I realize mid way through the class that half the people in the class are company members. I am taking a ballet class with Sallie Wilson and members of the New York Theatre Ballet Company. I have never felt so inadequate in my life.

Not only that, but we are on the third floor of an old New York building in hot, summer heat with only two fans for ventilation. By the time we reach pirouettes in the center after the longest 45 minute barre of my life, I am feeling a little lightheaded. I don’t want to sit out though, because that would be unprofessional. I decide to practice in the corner preparing myself for my group’s turn in the center with the combination. Next thing I know, the room isn’t just spinning around because I am turning, I feel so dizzy. Why are there black spots everywhere? Wait, now everything is just black.

I wake to 20 or 30 faces looking down at me and the director of the company trying to revive me with a wet towel and smelling salts. My mother is standing next to her calling my name.

“She’s awake,” the director says. “Take her to the back and give her some water, she must be dehydrated from the heat, and give her something to eat to get her blood sugar back up.” My mom helps me walk to the back along with a lady from the company. The lady bustles around the dressing room and gets me some water and an orange. I am crying at this point because I am so embarrassed.

“Mom I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life, this looks so horrible. They’re going to kick me out of the program. Who faints on their first day? They’re going to think I’m a weakling that can’t hack it,” I cry.

“Shh of course they won’t sweetie, it could happen to anyone. It’s like a sauna in there, not to mention you’re working hard and sweating. You’re just not used to those types of conditions. A New York studio in the summer is completely different to the studios at home,” my mom says as she is holding a wet rag to the back of my neck and smoothing my hair.

“Seriously, you know I fainted my first week also. It’s happened more than you’d think. It is a harsh blow to your system. Trust me they won’t kick you out for something like that. And all it does is build character. Hey it will give you a good story to tell at least,” the girl from the company says.

The class is then dismissed and people began invading the dressing room again. I sit there in the corner trying to make myself invisible. Finally I feel steady again and I begin to change back into my street clothes.

“I’ll wait outside for you,” my mother says. I leave the dressing room and the studio is once again empty. I look around and feel a chill tremble over my spine. I realize that even though I didn’t have the most graceful first encounter, I danced with professionals today. Sallie Wilson walked around and fixed MY head and position. Today I was in the same class as some of the best, and although I might not belong yet, I have every day for the rest of this summer to see that I get one step closer to belonging.