I say I ‘slipped’ into the sinkhole because I was eagerly awaiting a
big juicy income tax check this year to stabilize the transition between jobs,
but ended up owing money instead. While
I am feeling significantly encumbered and held back by debt and the increasingly
wide void in my wallet, I am obscenely rich in other ways. Following the trend
of generous acts of close friends and profoundly convenient coincidences, I am
convinced the universe has guided me to travel industry for some unknown
purpose.
Some people I’d like to thank for preserving my current position are:
-My friend Joe for creating a travel good-luck charm for me in
preparation for my departure for flight attendant training.
-My friend Cierra for surprising me with a vast array of gifts to help
mentally preparing me for training.
-My friend Victoria for orchestrating an amazing surprise going-away
party for me after treating me out to dinner.
-My friend Lydia for driving me to the airport, although we both had
overslept due to the immensity of awesomeness that was heir to Victoria’s
surprise party and I missed my free flight from Frontier to Denver to make it
to the training facility and hotel...
-The Southwest airlines baggage/ticketing agent named Lauren for
providing an equal exchange for the proper flight to Denver after I had
accidentally purchased a flight for the following day instead of the one I
needed that was leaving in 2 hours. The ticket costed me the bulk of my Denver
pocket money, which was $300.
-The delightful Denver Uber driver, Ralph, who prayed for me and my
pending success as a flight attendant and as a person during my first trip to
go food shopping after arriving in Denver.
-One of my Frontier trainers, Blaire, for letting me slide and passing
my initial exam despite me bombing my first presentation.
-My friend/co-worker Dani for cooking lunch for me in her hotel room
and purchased me microwavable foods to help me cope after my hectic start at
Frontier training.
-My friend/co-worker Kyle for risking his and my position at Frontier
by jetting out of class and opening the door for me three minutes before we’d
both get expelled, and while I didn’t have proper authority to re-enter the
building because I lost my name tag.
-My head trainer, Chris, for pardoning me of not having my name tag in
class because I was truthful in my explanation of how it was lost, then
informing me someone had already found it and returned it to class.
-My dad, brother, and sister Alissha, for sending me money while
training in Denver upon finding out I missed my free flight and used just about
all my pocket money to replace it.
-My friend Angel for treating me to drinks and an Uber ride home while
partying in Denver.
-My co-worker Demoy for providing home-made game show-styled quizzes
for everyone to compete and study with in the hotel lobby.
-My friend Paul for picking me up from the Philadelphia airport with
relatively short notice.
-My friend Lydia again for helping to cheer me up about the massive
pile of debt I’ve accumulated over the last couple of weeks.
-My friend Alex for purchasing my work suitcase for me, accidentally
getting the wrong one, and then taking me to buy a new one all in the same night.
-My Uber buddy Anwar for driving me to the Trenton Mercer Airport at a discounted
rate because I didn’t know how to get there yet.
-My check flight attendant for remaining helpful and vigilant
throughout my torrent of newbie questions during my initial operating
experience and for providing me with dozens of resources to tap into in times
of need.
-A coworker I’ve never met before from Denver named Alisha Cordova for hunting
me down via Facebook and returning my Flight Attendant Manual to me after I had
accidentally left it on the plan upon finishing my initial operating experience.
-A coworker I’ve never met before, but stationed at my same base, named
Lisa Cottrell for allowing me to borrow her Flight Attendant Manual for my
first flight because my manual still hadn’t arrived in time from Denver, and it’s
illegal for me to fly without it.
-My friend Angel again for cheering me up and going on a night on the
town of Orlando with me after my first, and most horrible experience, day at
work.
-A coworker Soyini (Sisi) for driving me to the Philadelphia airport
from the Trenton-Mercer airport after my first day of work because it was an
easier commute home for me.
-My dad for allowing my friend and coworker Kyle to live with me, only
mandating that we both pay a dividend of my normal rate of rent.
-My friend Svetlana for cheering me up throughout an episode of
hopeless romanticism.
-My Uber driver Darren for allowing me to haggle my Uber ride to the
airport for my second shift down to $40 from $115, which was obscenely high
because of commuting through the blizzard.
-My friend Lydia again for driving me to Trenton Mercer airport for a
5am shift at a discounted rate.
-Not to mention the countless unnamed who have attributed to my current
smile.
I find myself falling in love with the right people at all the wrong
times and in all the wrong places. Shit, if I had $1 for every girl I had a
crush on in the past two months, I’d have like $9… Simple 3-day crushes felt
like an eternity, which speaks volumes for where my mind is at. I find myself
mindlessly swiping right and left on my tinder app, as if I would want to
pursue someone via app. No offense to those who flourish at their app-based
networking skills, but I just feel like requesting intimacy from others in the
same manner that pizza places advertise their catering options, by shoving
their menu in strangers’ mail-slots in hopes they call and try it out, just
seems inauthentic. It’s like diet-intimacy.
While I am grounded in a self-assurance that I am of all the best kinds
of awesomeness when it comes to the quality of my character, I often think my
circumstances will speak louder than my presence. Moments can be tricky like
that. This uncertainty has mustered a bubbling fear inside me—the fear of
rejection, a type of fear I have conquered numerous times in the past but
always seems to come back for a cross-over episode with my confidence series.
I lost my most recent battle with this fear last week when I went down
to China Town with my friend Joe and failed to muster the courage to get this
girl Gabby’s number, despite having it within easy grasp. We were all over each
other that night. I had her sitting on my lap and teaching me
Hebrew, which I internalized 0% of. I even taught her some Spanish dance moves
to spice up her happy Hebrew style. I asked for her number twice, but she seemed to
be unable to hear me, or was ignoring me on the sly as she was in conversation
with the bartender. I was speaking over my friend Joe’s arms because he was
sitting next to her at the bar and was even offering to get up so I could get
next to her to ask. I think that I didn’t want to get too close because, in the
moment, I felt like rejection is easier to handle at 2 feet than 10 inches. And
yet, being ignored hurts the same from any distance. I then wrote “Can I get
your number?” on a piece of receipt paper and passed it to her, which she
refused also. I realize later that it
was obvious I was going a little too far down the ladder of lonely desperate
bar pick-up moves, especially for a chick I just met. In retrospect, I should
have just put MY number on the receipt paper, handed it to her and told her to
call me as I was leaving. That way, the ball is in her court. And yet, the
whole thing was derailed by my fear of her thinking I wasn’t good enough to be
with beyond bar hours because I’m not in a healthy place financially, I don’t
have a car or a license (yet), live at a duplex my father owns with a roommate,
and was relatively underdressed.
I know the fear was miniscule because I concluded what I should’ve done
just as I was leaving the bar. Revelations seldom happen so soon after
adversity if fear is a big factor, so it was comforting at least to know I was
seeing myself clearly and understood why I behaved in such an uncharacteristically
bitch made fashion. However, fears can be like termites, obliterating your
confidence’s infrastructure if left unchecked and allowed to expand. Fear is
not unlike the way people on Facebook describe drug addiction because it
supplies your subconscious mind with implications of satisfaction if you were
to get what you want. In my case, the implied ‘answer’ is to prove to myself that I am worthy by convincing
someone I perceive as better or more established than me to want to be with me,
or at the very least want to fuck me. Up front, I already know this is a
sinkhole of thought process because, while I mentioned before that I battled
and conquered this kind of fear in the past, I’ve also sustained heavy losses
from it. I know full well there is nothing to be satiated by having someone
want to be with you because, immediately upon its manifestation, if you are not
truly grounded in self-acceptance and embrace, the following stage of fear is
convincing yourself you’re worth keeping and holding on to—which is a desire
that can never truly be quenched. The fearful mind is filled with ready-made
excuses for inauthentic reasons they may ‘appear’ to want to keep you but are already
plotting your replacement. All in all, no amount of ‘I love you’s or ‘I need you’s
can seal a well of loneliness. Trial and error has taught me to internalize the
fact that my life is truly complete with, or without, people wanting me. Saying
it, of course, is worlds apart from believing it. Hence, my wobbly right rope
walk between self-confidence and self-pity.
Another reason I know the fearful episode I have been experiencing is
just one dim star among my brighter constellations of fulfillment is my
continuation to go out and dance, with or without people to dance with. I try
to follow my homie Boog’s advice and dance with the music—not with the people—regardless
if there is a butt shaking in front of me, or if I know the song well, or if my
dance moves are considered good or not. Having fun on the dance floor sends
good vibes into the universe. Nothing else need be asked for. It’s also good
exercise.
I have been feeling increasingly guilty for not loyally writing new
jokes for stand-up comedy. I am finally in a phase of work and travel where I
can perform comedy in various cities between shifts, like the unofficial comedy
tour I dreamed of last year, and no jokes seem to be flowing anymore. I feel
dirty rehearsing old sets, even if they killed it at other clubs. I hope the
jokes come to me soon because next week I’ll have some spending money after I
get paid and I’ll have no excuses not to go out to a comedy club for an open
mic. I would rather not play myself on stage unless it garners some laughs…
Having writer’s block makes me feel unspeakably unproductive. It doesn’t
help that the weather has been dreadfully cold and my wallet has been woefully
empty as of late. And if you’re curious how I could be so poor, and yet still
manage to go out dancing or to bars with friends, it’s because my priorities
are all out of whack and I was using credits cards that I shouldn’t be using to
fund a lifestyle I should be avoiding. The weather and my wallet are telling me
to keep things simple: stay home, cook, exercise, write jokes, catch up with
friends, go to work when they call me—repeat. And yet my muse is telling me to
go out for walks and bike rides, to meet people, to drink something delicious, to dance, and wait for
a clear sign to determine whatever my next step in inspiration is.
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