Ashlyn--Nobody knows the troubles I've seen...Yeah, I admit it, I’ve been kind of down lately—so I haven’t been in the mood to write in this blog. Why am I down you ask? Here’s my list:
First of all, I’m not done with my taxes. When I was Jake I had an accountant. I would drop by his office, ask how much I owed, wrote a check, signed a few documents and was out the door. If we didn’t stop to talk about the Mavericks, it took less than fifteen minutes.
The original Ashlyn didn’t take care of her taxes, so her files were a huge mess—what little files that she had. What is really upsetting is the fact that she didn’t make any quarterly payments and didn’t set any money aside. I’m stuck with the bill which I really can’t afford—and if I don’t pay my taxes in full and on time, my monthly payment agreement for all of Ashlyn’s back taxes will be voided.
I am so screwed. I had been saving up to buy a new computer; something that might let me get back into doing graphics professionally again—I guess that money is going to Uncle Sam instead. I guess I’m stuck as a waitress for a little bit longer.
Speaking of work…
Maybe I should have said “I guess I’m stuck as a waitress as long as I don’t get fired.” The restaurant that I work for has two managers. They tend to break up the day in halves—one manager will work the day shift and the other the night. Maddie, one of the two, has had it in for me every since she walked into the ladies room and caught me changing into the skimpy outfit I wore for St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t know why that should have made a difference, but it has. Before that day she was warm and friendly toward me—now I can’t do anything right.
What drives me crazy is I have a strong work ethic, and I put 100% of myself into whatever I am doing. It’s what made me a moderate success in my graphics work—and even though being a waitress isn’t as challenging as some jobs, I try to bring a sense of professionalism to my work. I show up early and always try to have a good outlook.
Maddie called me into her office last week. She told me I needed to improve my attitude, spend more time with all my guests and to not spend so much time flirting with the guys. She also suggested I start dressing more conservatively. “This isn’t Hooter’s” she told me with a self righteous tone.
I wanted to tell her to stuff it—but I needed the job. So I took my scolding--but decided I might start looking for another job.
I have abandonment issues…
Art’s going back to the Inn in less than a month. By June he’ll be back in his own body and back to his life in California.
I’m happy for him. I swear. This isn’t bitterness that he is going to get his old life back and I wasn’t so lucky.
This is about a good friend going away.
I’ve made my peace about being turned into Ashlyn. My existence has gone from “struggling to adapt” to “it gets easier every day” to “it gets to be more enjoyable every day”. Some mornings I get up, look in the mirror, and consider myself damn lucky.
But even though I’ve accepted who I am now, there are times when the girl stuff is just too much. My brain rebels and demands I dwell on guy stuff: Sports. Movies with lots of explosions and special effects. Foods that have nothing to do with watching your weight. You get the idea.
Sure, I’m not pretending anymore—how I act from now on is how Ashlyn is going to be—I just find it’s easier to just be myself whenever Art and I hang out. Our conversations over a Starbuck’s chai are my opportunity to “let my hair down” and just be myself. You should have seen the confused looks some of the girls (from one of my radio station gigs) gave me when I started talking about how much I was looking forward to seeing Spiderman 3.
“I was such a big fan of Spiderman growing up.” I said. “I can’t wait to see how the special effects with Venom (a villain for you who didn’t grow up on comics) turned out.”
I get a lot of blank looks, and then we start talking about Kristen Dunst’s hair.
Art gets Spiderman—and all the other things that make up “guy talk”. Selfishly, I’m going to miss that.
Abandonment issues the sequel…
If it wasn’t bad enough that Art is leaving town, here’s insult to injury. A voicemail from my “mom”:
“Hi Sweetheart! I have amazing news! Your father ‘s work needs for him to go to New Zealand for a while! It’s a special project. He’s going for so long I’ve decided to go with him. We are leaving early June and won’t be back until August! Is that amazing or what! Call me!”
Great. Everyone is leaving me.
One bit of good news. Jean-Michel called. He has business in Boston this week and wanted to know if I wanted to have dinner. I gave him an ethusiastic yes.