Libraries

I go to the library a lot. Not to read, but to write and do some office work.

You see, I don’t have internet at home. It’s not that I can’t afford it, I probably could, but I don’t trust myself with it. If I had internet at home, I’d be downloading movies, streaming TV or just checking out Andre the Giant’s Wikipedia page for spelling errors.

So I visit the cafe or library whenever I need internet.

I also need a place to go to work. And work out. I could have the most amazing home gym, but I’d never use it. I pay for a gym, so I go there. Otherwise I feel like I’m wasting my money. Same same with writing. I have a computer, but I rarely write at home. So I need to go somewhere else to do it.

But if I spend $5 on a coffee or walk all the way to the library or the gym, I will write or work out. I put in that effort, now I need to do something with that.

I like cafes, but I decided that since I’m relatively unemployed I’ll have to wait until I get better paychecks before plopping down money for coffees and tips. So here I am at the Chicago Public Library in Edgewater.

This places isn’t so bad. They have tables, outlets and internet. I checked out a book once and printed some stuff another time. It all works out well.

There are some crusty people here. There’s one creepy guy that just freaks me out, so I will move to another chair just so I don’t see him. I don’t think he notices that I notice him. The guy sitting across from me is playing Diablo or Warcraft. Yesterday somebody called the cops because some teens were “engaging in sexual acts, being disrespectful, being rude and confronted my friend.” The teenagers do have a room set up just for them and they treat it more like a bar than a quiet spot to hang out.

My mom took me to the library all the time when I was growing up. I loved it. I  could get books and movies. I could get the hell out of the house.

NYU’s library is absolutely amazing. They had “study rooms” that were for making out. It was open 24 hours a day (I think). The tiled floor looked really cool when you were on the top floor looking down. I think some people killed themselves there, so they changed up some of the rules.

The library in the Denver suburb where my parents live was gorgeous. Huge and quiet. Full of books, but more or less empty of people.

I went to one in Korea and felt like a fish out of water and into a swirling skyscraper of bats. It was just weird.

The worst of the worst are the public NYC libraries. It’s a gorgeous set of places, but that’s where bums come to use the internet. And hobos aren’t checking their email. They’re watching porn. And jerking off right at the computer station.

So I don’t really feel like visiting NYC’s libraries any more.

I’ll take a couple mumbling dorks over some chronic public masturbators.

Nightmare Job Interview

I’ve been on a ton of job interviews — and quite a few were awful. I’ve forgotten how to tie a tie, sweated like a stuck pig whore in church, used the wrong names for my prospective bosses, appeared to have lied on my resume (I didn’t) and been completely unprepared for the career let alone the interview.

During one of my last job interviews, I Skyped with a lady at a university in Japan. She turned her camera off, so I didn’t really know where to look. She spoke so quietly I couldn’t hear or understand anything so I asked her to repeat herself constantly. It wasn’t an easy one, but I ended up getting the job.

But yesterday something new happened during an interview. It’s not a fun or funny story, but first you need a quick “about me.”

You’d probably never guess it, but I have epilepsy. I’ve seen plenty of doctors and I take handfuls of pills every day. I do not know what caused it or what causes it. Flashing lights don’t, but being overly stressed might. About five years ago I just started having seizures.

Once a year or so I have grand mal (big bad) seizure. I fall over, bite my tongue, roll my eyes into the back of my head and twitch on the ground. This is the type of seizure you usually see these on TV. If you see me or somebody else having a grand mal seizure make sure you keep their head safe, don’t put anything into their mouth and don’t call an ambulance unless the seizure lasts longer than five minutes. Mine are usually a minute long.

Every month or so I have petit mal (small bad) seizures. I zone out for a minute or two. I just seem like I’m not paying attention, am stoned and/or really stupid. If you see this, ask me some questions and talk to me.

After both of these, I get really emotional, tired, frustrated and upset. It takes me a while to restart my brain and remember who I am. For 15 minutes or so after the seizure I sound like Johnny Depp’s version of the incredibly intoxicated Hunter S. Thompson in “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”

How does this matter? Well, I had a job interview yesterday. I was all prepared. I read over the website’s stories, scribbled down what I could do for them and collected some “Cute Boulder Things” my interviewer (who is a former CU Buff like me) could chitchat about.

We were scheduled for 3:00 p.m. I ate a quick snack and readied myself around 2:45 p.m. Everything was perfect.

Then I woke up. I was incredibly confused. I looked at the clock which said  2:58 p.m. What happened? I didn’t recall being drunk or high. I couldn’t remember what my name was, which day it was, who the president was or even where I was.

Have you ever snapped awake worrying that you forgot to do something important and thinking you’re going to screw it up?

The phone rang. My finger missed the answer button. I accidentally put the caller on hold. I held my phone two handed and tried to figure out what the hell I was doing.

“Hello this is Bob. Can I speak with KC please?”

I wish I could tell you what I said, but at that moment I could barely make sentences or understand my interviewer, let alone remember what happened during this debacle. My brain literally has to reboot after an absence seizure so I was in a bad place.

I do know that he talked a lot about himself, which was a Godsend. Also, he either he didn’t know what he wanted me to do with this job, was just awful at explaining what he wanted or I was just too mind numbed to understand.

He may think I’m a moron but I am editing some stories for him on a trial basis. Who knows if this will turn into anything.

If I was 100 percent during this interview I think I would have taken this job and put it in my pocket. However, I couldn’t explain neither the gap in my work history nor the long pauses in my sentences.

These are things that I deal with every single day and night. I’ve had seizures at the dinner table with my parents, at bars, on a date, at work and in front of classrooms of my students.

I will never drive a car again. I have no idea who or what to blame. To pay for my prescriptions, I need health insurance (which nobody will give me), a load of cash (which I don’t have) or to date a pharmacist (know anybody?).

I am not disabled or mentally challenged (maybe a few of my exes will disagree with me). I do not want your pity. I don’t want to complain. I just want you to understand a little what I go through.

Unintended Break

I love writing. I also love writing letters to my Grandma Betty. Unfortunately, life gets in the way. All the time.

So I haven’t touched this blog in a while. I don’t know how many people check The Comfy Confines out after reading my brilliant column Popular to the Contrary Opinion in the Colorado Daily.

Today’s is actually one I have a lot of pride in. It’s all about drinking in public in Korea.  Here it is:

http://www.coloradodaily.com/columnists/ci_31037234/popular-contrary-opinion-oh-thank-heaven-7-eleven

I’ve been doing a good chunk of writing for PCO. I can disappear for about a month and still have plenty of leftover columns for the Daily. I get paid a little bit for writing them, but it’s nice to have to write again.

I’m really trying to keep on track with everything over here in Chicago. I’m getting my routine in, making friends and slowly finding word. It’s been a true process.

As for writing, unfortunately it takes the back seat sometimes.

I finished editing my romantic/gross-out comedy novel for the third or fourth time. I was working on editing my steampunk sci-fi novel for the third time, but decided to make a giant change and now we’re going for it a fourth time.

Those are both looking good. Once I finish some of my daily junk, I’ll try to punch out a few more chapters.

I was writing clickbait for a little bit. And I mean a long bit, but also a little bit. I spent days learning how to writing in their style, what they wanted and actually writing, but the entire thing was just too uninspiring, difficult and not worth my time. Yes, I can be a whiny hipster and complain about my job that is just sooooo hard, but honestly, I think I was making about $.75 an hour. I’d get paid by the article, and by the time one was printed I’d earn about $7 after spending hours finding it on their antiquated system, writing, editing and then waiting for approval for it.

Now I’m supposed to edit some other articles for another website. I better get my ass in gear and write for them.

Of course, now that I’m hitting my own blog, I feel like writing a little extra for myself.