As I’m typing this post, I still know that I’m not completely letting go. As in, I’m not completely letting go of the things in life that I know are out of my control.

The first time I ever “felt” an earthquake was in upstate New York, where I went to college. My sister and her BFF were visiting. I remember we had a great time. I remember that they both were constantly sporting their respective college shirts for the colleges they would be attending in the fall. I remember how we laughed and laughed in my dining hall. I remember the earthquake. Oh, and did I mention that this earthquake was a small rumbling? Just the same, I let Jenny (my sister’s BFF), and my sister share my bed that night. I slept on an air mattress in my roomie’s half of our split double. Did anyone else out there have split doubles in college? Those rooms, I’ve decided in my old age, were the best.

Moving right along, the small rumbling I felt against the ArrowBed felt exciting. I wasn’t scared, just curious. That was not the case for Jenny and my sis, however. They dashed over to the second half of the split double. “WHAT WAS THAT?” they cried in unison. Kristen, my roommate, tossed in her sleep. She had slept through the whole damn thing. Me? I was lost for words. I had definitely felt something. I just didn’t know how to articulate the feeling. Nevertheless, I was still in control as I answered, “Ummm, it must have been a very small earthquake!” ‘Cause, really, what else could it have been? Jenny and Lil Sis seemed content with my answer. Content with a dash of wonder. Their eyes lit up. They thought the whole thing was “cool.” I plopped back onto the Arrowbed, muttering “high school.”

Yesterday was a different story. It wasn’t just a small rumbling beneath an air mattress. Yesterday I experienced my first California earthquake. Yes, I know that I’m a sissy. Yes, I know that I panic in “panic situations.” Yes, I know my mom and extended family have been pleading with me since I moved out here to get the hell outta earthquake country. As a matter of fact, just this past Christmas, Uncle Marc announced theatrically, “It’s coming!” Since I have a one-track mind, I pondered aloud, “What? The bread puddin’?” He laughed fake nervously, “Why… no… the… earthquake.” Oh, and for good measure, “Ah, the earthquake that’s going to happen any day now in California, where you live, Korlina!”

I thought, for God’s sake. Now I no longer had visions of bread pudding dancing through my head, but visions of vodka. Way to get my mom going, Uncle Marc. Thanks to Uncle Marc’s instigation, my mom compiled a verbal list of reasons why I should NOT live in California in front of all the Christmas Eve guests. Of course, the earthquakes were somewhere near the top of the list. I weakly stated that natural disasters can occur anywhere, but no one cared to listen. Everyone was focused on my mom. What can I say? She’s entertaining. I gave up and decided to go play poker with my little cousin. I remember losing with pocket aces. What can I say? Bad beats.

Ahem, getting back to yesterday, (before I dwell too much on past Christmases), I had just finished a VERY early lunch. Since becoming unemployed, I eat my lunches earlier and earlier. Probably ’cause of boredom? Suddenly, I felt a violent shake under me. Sammy, the cat, began to stir in the chair to my right. I keep trying to go back to the moment when it happened. I keep trying to fetch what was going on through my mind in those mere 20 seconds. I knew it was an earthquake. However, I think that there were a few seconds there, in the very beginning, that I didn’t know what was happening. I went over to Sammy, somehow balanced, although I felt like I was on stilts, and rested my hand on his back. Then, I thought of BetteBoop in the next room. I’ve been keeping the cats separated because Sammy has a bad case of eye herpes that I don’t want Bette to contract. In the fleeting moments of the quake, I didn’t care anymore about the cats having to be separated. I ran to get Bette, and the cats joined together. They licked each other, consoled each other. The shaking stopped.

Yeah, it was only a 5.4 quake, but it still got to me. J made the point to me today that he’s so used to quakes that the thoughts of ice storms and black ice traumatize him. “It’s all about what you’re used to,” I contended. And it is. It really is. Just the same, I don’t ever want to get used to earthquakes. That jarring feeling of being so out of control really got to me yesterday. Not only me being out of control, but everyone being out of control. Nature is the house, just like in a casino. It always wins, and it certainly doesn’t care about “bad beats.”

An hour after the quake hit, I went down to check my mail. Still, no damn unemployment check. My neighbor who lives downstairs, an artsy girl who lent me an art book once, came up next to me. She asked me about where I was during the quake. I told her in my apartment with my cats. She laughed. She told me she was in her car. At first she thought someone had hit her. I laughed. We were two girls full of nervous laughs. Quakes can do that. She went on to say that her airbag had almost gone off.  Artsy neighbor then said something that was so profound. She said, “This is nature’s way of telling us something. Everthing [in nature] has been quiet for so long. Nature wants us to listen.”

Back in my apartment, the cats were busy fighting. Playful fighting, but still. Just as I was about to put Bette back in her designated room of separation, I thought, this is out of my control. Sammy might have a bad, contagious eye thing, but he and Bette don’t want to be separated. They want to be together. Thus, I let them go at it, and not in a sexy way. They played and played, overjoyed to not have to be separated any longer.

If I’m stuck in an earthquake again, or a (gasp!) more extreme one, I have to let things be. I’ll still comfort the cats if I’m with them, and kiss J if he’s nearby, but I can’t panic. Whether it be an earthquake, or anything else, I have to be ready. It’s just like what Uncle Marc said last Christmas… “It’s Coming!”

Jeff from “Flipping Out” really sucks. I’m watching this damn show, (what can I say? I’m a Bravo junkie!), and shudder whenever he utters a word. He reminds me of BigBoss who just fired me. Anal guy, treats his assistants like shit, (ummm, they don’t exactly deserve it, but they do mess up something for the company in every scene), tells nasty jokes, admits he has no life, spies on people, (BigBoss used to go through things on my desk), acts like what he’s doing (real estate) is the most crucial job in the whole wide world, needs therapy on a daily basis, talks to everyone around him in the most condescending tone, doesn’t trust a soul, and is crazy competitive. I’m out of breath!

The one and only good trait I can see in Jeff, if you exclude the fact that he is good at what he does, is that he loves animals. Anyway, I thought I’d just write this post to exhale a little. I’m so glad that I’m no longer working for a guy like Jeff, even if that means I’m not working at all. Sigh.

In more exciting/uplifting news, J and I are going out for sushi tonight for our friend’s birthday extravaganza. Yay! Oh, and you do saki bombs, and dance on your chair at this joint. Score! Also, Bri and I are going to start a running routine, (I guess I should say we’re “training,” but I hate that word), so that we can race in a 6 mile Nike marathon. I’m looking forward to getting back into running. I’ve been such a friggin’ slacker. Shameful, because I really adore running for exercise. It makes me feel good. Just knowing that I’m about to get back into a running routine makes me feel better already!

Bette (pronounced “Betty.” What can I say? I heart heart Bette Davis) and Sammy (A.K.A. Sammy Pants) are in love. I never thought it would happen, but once J and I arrived back from Aruba it was apparent that they wanted to be together. Also, it hasn’t hurt that I’ve been around more. For whatever reason, Korlina’s presence around the apartment in the last two weeks has helped them grow a STRONGER love for one another. Sammy grooms BetteBoop, and she has even started grooming him. What can I say? A match made in heaven!

Two weeks ago I arrived back from Aruba, and the depression set in the moment before we landed. You know? That moment where the plane is enveloped in so much smog that you can’t see out the window? God, sometimes I despise L.A. soooo much that I can just… well, smell the smog. One day after our arrival, in the midst of our cranky back and forth bickering, J announced that he would embark on a mission to find a job in Aruba. I told him that I’d kill him if he didn’t take me with him.

Once Monday rolled around, it was back to work. I felt relatively refreshed from my trip, and even had a tan! I was ready to focus and make things right at a job I hated passionately. Somehow, I rid myself of my back from vacation depressions. No more thoughts of frozen strawberry margaritas under a hut on the beach, no more thoughts of how much fun I had with my boyfriend AND my rents, (I know! Shocking!), no more thoughts of fro yo on a daily basis, no more thoughts of the most mouth-watering Argentinian steaks, no more thoughts of all the pretty ‘lil lizards trying to be your friend poolside, no more thoughts of being able to work out any time I wanted, no more thoughts of having been able to leisurely read an entire book in a week, and no more thoughts of how much I missed my parents. It was time for Korlina to get back to reality and just deal.

By the time 1pm rolled around on that first Monday back, I wanted to cry (and to drink at least 3 Amstel Brites. Why don’t we have Amstel Brite in the U.S.????).  I can’t recall what was so horrible on my Monday back, but I do know this. EVERYTHING was horrible. Not only were the majority of people I now worked with assholes, (well, two, particularly), but I also did not fit in at all. I couldn’t even fake acting like I wanted to fit in here anymore. The one friend I had on the show worked next door in the writer’s office and, clearly no one I worked with in my production office favored him. I was doomed. I knew I was doomed, and I didn’t know I was doomed all at once. Yes, my life IS filled with such paradoxes.

May we please rewind to the Friday when I left for Aruba? I gave my direct boss the news a week in advance that I would have to leave no later than 5pm on that Friday, or else I’d miss my flight. Now this boss is/was (I pray I will never have to see him ever again!) a weird, weird dude. He takes “uptight” to a whole new, terrible level. Remember in “Farris Bueller’s Day Off” when Farris is describing how uptight his friend Cameron is? Yeah, that line that goes something like, “if you stuck something up his ass it would turn into a diamond?” Well, this dude, if you had stuck something up his ass, it would have been the sharpest diamond ever and gone into the Guinness Book of World Records for sharpest stone ever found.

Ahem, moving along, out of the 80’s and back into my life, my boss was uncharacteristically understanding, and even said (GASP!) that I could leave whenever I wanted because he knew the feeling well of worrying about missing a flight. Score! I thought. Of course once the Friday was upon us, he was singing a different horror movie type tune. Long, stupid story, but the incompetent a-hole decided, in front of BigBoss, to blame me for losing a post-it with “crucial” contact info on it for the staff and crew list. I.did.not.lose.this.post-it. He took it back from me. Not only that, but he hadn’t even written contact info on it. He gave me the post-it to put on a friggin drive-on for a person to get into the lot. Sigh.

BigBoss did not like the sound of this all too important contact info being lost (umm, it was probably ONE of the least pertinent things for the staff and crew list at that moment). His eyesbrows got all high on his forehead to the extent that he looked like a Sesame Street muppet. He let out a weird groan. I turned back to less important/direct boss. His eyes burned through his thick glasses. He ordered me to go through every trash basket in the office to find the post-it. I kind of threw up in my mouth a little. I could not believe what an idiot this kid was (I call him “kid” because he’s only 2 years older than me. That makes him a kid, right?). He was an idiot for saying this to me because a.) He didn’t realize what a butt hole he was b.) He was demanding that I do something SO incredibly demeaning that it is arguably harrassment in the workplace c.) EVERYONE (even PA’s) know that in a production office, you go to the accounting department when you need a crew member’s contact info. But not this KID. Fucking KID wanted me to go through the trash ’cause fucking kid is SOOOO afraid of BigBoss.

Instead of doing the right thing, (I now question what state of mind I was in, but I was brought up Catholic. We like to make things harder on ourselves) I announced in a loud voice so that everyone in the office would hear me… “Okay, I’m not above going through the trash. I will GLADLY look through the trash. Well folks, I didn’t do this activity with a smile on my face, AND I didn’t find the damn post-it. I marched into the accounting office after washing off all the garbage filth from my hands. The accountant gave me the number immediatelty, and shot me a “can you believe that dude?” look. I couldn’t wait to be on that plane for Aruba & I would be drinking HEAVILY on the plane.

My mom made dinner our first night in Aruba. My mom is an excellent cook, even when she makes something as simple as pasta and meatsauce. I told my parents about the post-it saga. My mom said I had let them win by going through the trash. I already knew this. I moaned to my parents that I so badly wanted to quit this job. “But Kristen,” my mom uttered between bites of rigatoni, “You wouldn’t be able to receive unemployment insurance. Oh, yeah, that. “Then I hope they fire me!” I announced. J laughed at me, and my dad had rolled his eyes. You know that saying? Be careful what you wish for?

The Thursday before the 4th of July, BigBoss quietly asked me to step into his office. He shut the door behind us, which surprised me. Then, he ushered me over to his white couch. This surprised me even more because I had, in the past three weeks since I started working there, always sat in the seat in front of his desk. I suddenly had to pee VERY badly.

BigBoss sat on the adjacent couch and shrugged his shoulders, gave me a simultaneously disappointed and guilty look, and said nothing. I couldn’t take it anymore, and was about to burst with pee (sorry, but it’s true!). “BigBoss, are you not happy with the work I’m doing here?”

Oh, you should have heard the sigh that BigBoss let out. “I don’t think this is going to work out.” My urge to pee disappeared, and I felt SO relieved. I nodded my head in agreement, but then BigBoss continued his speech. “You just don’t fit in with this group of people. You’re a sweetheart, and everyone loves you, but it’s a personality thing.” Yikes, now my face burned. I didn’t like being told that I didn’t fit in. I went through years of not fitting in, and being told I didn’t fit in, in high school. I didn’t feel like reliving those days in BigBoss’s office. Shudder. I also really didn’t like being called a sweetheart. It immediately made me think of Valentine’s Day candy hearts… those things with the useless expressions on one side that don’t mean anything really, and fade off when you touch them. Those things that are made of such artificial crap. That’s what being called a sweetheart by a boss in the middle of firing you is… fake crap. He didn’t like me, and direct boss didn’t like me. Therefore, I was doomed. Therefore, I was fired.

My ego got the better of me. Instead of shaking BigBoss’s hand, leaving his office, and collecting my stuff as fast as possible, I wanted to open my mouth & defend my years in this industry. “BigBoss, I’ve never been fired before. As much as I know that I don’t fit in here, is there anything that I did wrong? Anything that I could learn from this? I take pride in my work. I’ve thrived on multiple series…”

BigBoss cleared his throught, “Well, no. You came in every morning and wanted to make things work, but I just didn’t see you meshing well with this team. You should view this as a very good day. I got fired from a hit show years ago after the first season, and it’s the best thing that ever happened to me!” I nodded my head, surprised at myself for not having cried yet. Maybe I could make it to my car without anyone having seen me cry.

Bottom line, it is a good thing that it happened. I would have been miserable working there and, I did get what I had so desperately wished for when I was in Aruba. Sure, it hurts my ego, and makes me question myself a little, but I know I will be okay & get another job. It sucks not having a job now, and not having money to play with, but I have my health. I definitely would have lost my mental health working at that job.

So, here I am at 4:30pm on a Friday drinking a Corona and revisiting my blog. I have time for you now, bloggy blog. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, no?