Exhausted.

Jul. 5th, 2005 10:13 pm
amityville_sweetheart: (Yay!)
I'm back from Cape May, which is, incidentally, where Caleb dragged me this weekend.

It was... a very good weekend (I'll no doubt elaborate more later. Well. Some of it). I think I'll have to stay away from the brownstone until I can say that _without_ grinning and blushing like an idiot.

Let's hope the next week is really, really slow.
amityville_sweetheart: (Yay!)
Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman are singing ‘Something Stupid’ on her CD player. Corrine likes hearing the classics redone, and it’s got to be said that Nicole Kidman’s lead in the song gives it a bit of a different tune. Not that she was a worthy replacement for Ol’ Blue Eyes, but then, who was?

Corrine grimaces as she does her bends, keeping track in her head. Plié, plié, demi-plié, grand plié, cambré. She’s still hurting from yesterday, moreso now than this morning, thanks to her interview.

She’d arrived fifteen minutes early to prepare. The Arts Director had liked her references, her style, and her short demonstration. She hadn’t toed-in once on her turns, but she’d been slightly off with her arm position in second at the barre. The AD seemed to buy the lie that she’d been away at her family’s farm over the weekend, and had cut her arm open on a nail in the barn. There was even a brief discussion about the AD’s horses, but Corrine didn’t have the heart to tell her she hated horses. They were beautiful creatures, to be sure, but they didn’t seem to like her nervous nature. Which was quite all right with Corrine, as she didn’t like their easily excitable nature.

There had been a lot of strange looks in her direction at the metro stop, as she’d been twirling in happiness. She was employed again, which had the obvious benefits, but now she was employed doing something she loved. She’d gotten the chance to meet some of the girls. They were green, yes, but with some shaping up, they’d be wonderful. So, now, two days a week—at least until September—she’d be helping these girls hone their skills.

She’d stopped into Cereality for breakfast. There was certainly some appeal to a restaurant that served nothing but cold cereal and had Cartoon Network on all the time. She’d caught the episode of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends that she’d missed last week.

On her return home she’d called Angela, since it had been a while. Her sister was doing well. Her husband Dave was with yet another contracting company, and the kids were out of school for the summer. Corrine’s brother Louis had just returned from England after two years with his partner, Jack. They were looking at adopting a child from Brazil.

The CD player changed to Miles Davis Prelude to a Kiss, and it made Corrine think of Caleb. She’d told Angela about him, and her sister had been her usual nosy self.

“What an interesting name, Caleb. Where’s he from?” she’d asked.
“Metropolis?” Corrine had responded, trying to dissuade this line of questioning.
“Oh, you know what I mean! Where’s his _family_ from?”
“Hell,” Corrine had answered without thinking. There was a silence on the other end. “…Sinki, I think.”
“Oh, Scandinavian,” Angela said, thinking it a joke. She wouldn’t get the _real_ joke, of course, but it was okay to let her believe it. “Dave and I visited his aunt there a few years back, do you remember? Finland’s an awful place, the food is so bland.”
“Yes,” she said, laughing to herself. “But he’s mostly Russian, I think.”
“Alcoholics, a lot of them. Not very business-saavy, either. What does he do?”
“He manages a Metro Java.”
“Never heard of them,” the disdain was rising in Angela’s voice.
“It’s a chain here in Metropolis.” She waited a beat, then added. “He’s also a… crime consultant.”
“Oh, wow, a cop.”
“No, not really.”
“But an investigator.”
“Sort of.”
“I still don’t understand why you stay in that crazy city. The weather here is so much nicer, and we’re not too far from Miami, you remember.”

Corrine didn’t like that her sister was still trying to convince her to move, but it was better than talking about Caleb. She didn’t like lying to Angela, but if the elder girl had pushed anymore, she might have had to.

She sighed. It was getting towards evening. She wanted to call Caleb and get some laundry done, and then perhaps she’d go downtown for some writing tablets. It had been a good day.
amityville_sweetheart: (Default)
Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Oh, it's so nice to just sit down on the couch, open a pint of Ben and Jerry's in my PJs, and totally veg out. Cinemax is being my favorite channel in the cosmos right now and showing me Kama Sutra: A love story.

I know, I know. In reality, this movie is nothing more than all the tragedy one could cram in between soft-core pornography. The camera work, architecture, and wardrobe is absolutely wonderful, however. There's also the fact that this movie makes me cry like the romantic sap I am everytime I watch it. Every girl needs a favorite love story, right?

I know as soon as it's over I'm going to feel awful, though. Watching romantic movies alone is not the most desirable thing in the world. We'll not even mention the fact that it's a tragic love story, and that makes it even worse to watch alone.

And in case anyone's wondering? He's still a total idiot, and so am I. Known the guy a month, but the mysterious green eyes get every girl, don't they? Pause a moment while I sigh in my girlish crush.

All right, I'm all done now.

Yes, I was originally talking about getting back to normal things, one of which was searching around for a job after I slept like the dead for a while.

All the good karma I had reserved after running around with the JSA must have decided to cash itself in early. The job hunt today was a bust, but I returned home to find a message on my machine from the Grieg Institute (a creative and performing arts school for girls. Gotta love the extra-curricular educational options of Metropolis).

Last week I did something totally random and out of my nature, and decided to try for something I was actually skilled in. I put my resume in at Isa's, as they were looking for a classical dance instructor for their ages 8-10 class.

I didn't expect a response from them. I've never taught, I only took three years of dance in college, and two independent courses for about a year during college. Dancing has always been more of an interest than a profession, and I'm two years out of shape for it.

Despite all these reasons, I put in my resume and a two-year-old video portfolio, along with all the recommendations I could scrounge up. Turns out they'd like to see me for an audition later this week. The offer includes many goodies, among them being an actual member of the faculty, which gives me benefits, summer pay, the whole nine yards.

This is me, feeling completely overwhelmed and terrified. I have this habit recently of getting myself in way too deep.

Like, for example, fighting demons with the Justice Society of America. Merciful Kittens, do you know how many years I probably took off my life with all that? But, I like to torture myself with prospects too high to reach, so I believe I will be saying yes to both the job and the JSA.

I feel like the Coyote strapping himself into a huge trebuchet. I know the joke's on me when the road-runner zooms by yelling, "Meep meep!" and I go face-first in the dirt.

Still, I can't help but give it a chance.
amityville_sweetheart: (Default)
You know what kind of day I've had? A bad one.

First, the metro machine short-changes me by about five dollars-- my last. This means I have to go to the ATM machine when I'm already late for work as it is, because I have to have coffee in the morning. I hate being snarky, because my job entails me being super happy all the time, especially in front of the customers.

The only ATM around is at a not-so-happy stop, and the next train I need is ready to go once I arrive. However, I need coffee. So I zoom over to the ATM, which takes a $2.75 fee. Oy. But, all is well, for the most part. At least until I'm fiddling around in my bag to put my card back, and some little punk comes running up and grabs the $20 I just got right out of my hand.

Of course we can't have that, so as I'm running after him and yelling my head off, I don't even notice I'm inadvertantly using my magic.

He runs right out into the street, and WHAM! Car. It was only going about 15 miles per hour, considering it was the street leading into the station, thank the stars. I think they said he'd broken his leg, so he was very lucky.

That little punk is so lucky I'm a good samaritan. I stayed with him until the ambulance came, and didn't file a report with the police. Maybe the little hoodlum will learn a lesson in mercy and never do something that stupid again. I didn't want to see him get hurt, obviously, but... ah, he learned a lesson, I hope.

I got to work almost two hours late. Work seemed okay, even though my boss Janice was very quiet. Lunch was very strange. I met this guy named Caleb, who is apparently magical. He sensed my 'power' or something... it was strange, let's just leave it at that.

I get back to work late from my lunch, and Janice pulls me aside-- and fires me. She says I've been acting very strangely recently, and all this stupid excuses about cut backs from the city, and me not having the customer-friendly attitude I used to have.

I wanted to argue with her, but what do I say? 'I'm lonely and tired and depressed and life sucks, not to mention my magic has been acting up'? Right.

Now that I've finished off the last and only bottle of alcohol in the apartment, I'm going to go find some place to drink. Maybe I'll meet someone. Heh.
amityville_sweetheart: (Surprised/Curious)
I decided to make sure that 'sun' thing was still around today. Which is to say, my hermit self actually _went_ somewhere.

I headed for the park. Some people were playing frisbee. Why, oh why, must my powers always kick on when I don't want them to? You guessed it. Yours truly wanted so badly to play with them, and The Magic That Is Me decided a good way to do that was for them to hit me in the head with it.

I'm fine, besides a bit of a bump. *rubs her head, annoyed* The gentleman responsible for hitting me fawned over me for a while, and then his girlfriend decided that I was OK, and that they needed to get back to their game.

No invite for me. Not shocked, really. The magic kicks in, and still... nada.

So, as usual, my day among society resulted in me getting injured, and spending most of the evening alone. Except for the little detail of walking into some kind of cosmic, nexus-of-all-universes-everywhere social grounds of some sort. I don't know how. Maybe The Magic has decided I was just too pathetic and lonely anymore.

There are a lot of strange people at this place, though. Weird aliens, and... oh! SUPERMAN! I MET SUPERMAN! Isn't that neato?

...I just said neato, didn't I?

*hides face* Okay, now that we've established that I am so socially inept and totally lost in the past, let's move on.

I met Superman. And also, a Mr. Wade Wilson, who professes to be a 'fun' crazy. Not sure how that works.
amityville_sweetheart: (Default)
Keys jingle softly in a lock, and on the inside, two creatures wait, tails twitching in the darkness. As the door begins to open, they scatter. Someone walks through, and a soft, light voice can be heard.

"Momma's home, babies," Corrine says to the empty room. Suddenly, out of the darkness emerges two sets of glowing eyes. The lights are flicked on to reveal two cats, one male and one female. The female is small and skinny, black with orange and white spots. The male is a shiny, creme Siamese, with curious brown eyes.

The female takes this opportunity to rub against her mistress's leg, curling up around her feet. "Hello, Ninny!" Corrine says with a smile, reaching down to scritch the kitten behind her ears. "And how was your day, silly?"

Ninnyhammer perks up as Corrine heads for the kitchen. Right on schedule, Corrine opens the second to left cabinet, her hand emerging with a bag of Friskies. She shakes some into two little cat bowls, and the cats come running, ready to chow down.

Satisfied that her babies have been fed, Corrine tosses her bag onto the kitchen table and flops down in a chair. She kicks off her shoes, careful that they don't land near the cats, and props her feet up on another chair.

"Well, Samson left us today," she says to the cats. The male-- Kinsey-- looks up at her almost curiously. "Someone finally adopted him. Which is good, yes, but... well, I was sad to see him go."

Licking his chops in gratitude, Kinsey strolls over to his owner and hops into her lap.

"Well, I missed you, too, of course!" She gives the cat a caring scratch along the back, then snuggles him into her arms. "Don't worry. You know you're the main man in my life, Kinsey. Samson didn't mean anything!" She holds the cat up to face her, giving him kissy-lips. "You know I wuv you, yes you do!"

With a final scritch, she sets the cat down and makes her way into the living room. She knows before she even reaches the answering machine on the coffee table that there are no messages, but she hits the button anyway. "You have... 0 new messages," the machine says in its automated voice.

Sighing, Corrine heads for the bathroom for a much-needed shower after a long day. "Guess it's just you and me again, kitties. Maybe we'll see what's on HBO tonight..." she says as she closes the bathroom door.

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Corrine Bertrand

October 2009

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