Sunday, April 30, 2006

And the devil would call MY name...

Well, it's Sunday morning, almost noon. I am heading out towards Golden, Co, to walk some trails while my friends runs them. It's really a beautiful day, and I'm feeling pretty fine this morning. Danni's Song of the Morning for today is "Loves Me Like a Rock" from one of my all-time favs, There Goes Rhymin' Simon.

Saturday, April 29, 2006


The Nuggets, or "Nugs", got spanked, like 100 to 86. Hey, I got some inflatable "thunder sticks" out of the deal. Brought to you by Dodge. This was a big game because the Nuggets had been playing well and had beaten the LA Clippers in at least one game in the playoff series. A throw-down pre-game show featured, are you ready for this: Jimmy Ibbotson of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band fame singing the national anthem AND accompanying HIMSELF...on the banjo. *single tear*

It was fucking weird. I am telling you, Colorado fans boo EVERYTHING, even if the other team just had the ball. Some handsome guy had arranged for his girlfriend to be selected for a fake blindfolded shooting contest on the court for a novelty proposal. The mascot, Rocky the Cougar or something was hamming it up with the dude and was kind of orchestrating the whole thing, holding his jacket as well as the ring box. While she was shooting w/out seeing, her boyfriend got behind her on one knee and then they took the blindfold off and turned her around. She FREAKED OUT and tried to run off of the court (as if to say, I might venture, No, thank you) to the opposite end and get at the corner of the floor but was blocked by courtside seats and the media. The whole time she looks like her puppy has been shot in front of her and is clutching her mouth. She then has to turn and run sideways down the court, towards the seats. And she's wearing a handkerchief top and a mini skirt which is not aiding her escape. And yes, you can rest assured that when the shock and horror of watching a train wreck in front of them ended, the Colorado fans booed the poor woman as well.

People around us quickly dissected the situation, giving empathy to the man (I might add wearing black dress slacks and a sleeveless black undershirt) and condemning the woman. Someone said that etiquette would dictate that she say yes in public and tell him the truthful news later. I don't think this is the case, but I wasn't sure why and I felt badly for her. Not only was this probably the end of their relationship, she had to stand up for herself and do the painful, torturous task and run away in front of thousands upon thousands of people. I have been thinking it over and I truly believe a) he had probably done something bad and this was a make-up for it b/c b) if you don't want to be turned down in public, don't propose in public and c) everyone was going to have hurt feelings, but I hated the fact that so many people commented about how much he had paid for the set-up. You can't put a price on a woman's happiness like that. Hey, he spent 2K to get a stuffed cat to hold the engagement ring and blindfold her, she HAS to marry him now. I hope they are both okay tonight, I say, you go girl! Literally, go, go, run away from the sporty man.

Go Nuggets!

Last night we tried to get tickets to see the Avalanche in their playoff series game against the Dallas Stars but the game sold out and scalpers were not in a negotiating mood. Denver Gfriend got tickets for us to go to the Nuggets game tonight!!! I think it's odd that last night they played hockey in the same building, the Pepsi Center. I think they should just combine the two and make people play basketball on ice. Hell, I'd pay to see that.

This is my first NBA game, I am very excited! Woot woot.

Grant me Grace

Dannielle's Song of the Morning: "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley, from his irrerasable album Grace. A sweet, soft and spiritual kick-off to the WEEK OF THE DANNI! check it.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Song of the Morning

Inspired by my late-night dump note, Danni's Song of the Morning is "Running Out of Fools" by the lovely Neko Case. Imagine me wandering around in manner of NYPD blue, dark lighting, me wearing angular make-up and just-so tousled hair of the romantically oppressed. It's not meant for this Tinkerbell, but my feelings in general. Enjoy. :)

Ack! Ouchie!

Just received late-night but honest dumping from the one-date wonder. He called me "frighteningly observant, inquisitive and honest" or something. Who fucking uses the word frighteningly? Is that REALLY necessary? I knew this is what would happen, and I actually told him he would hit it off with this other person. I think my weak power of clairvoyance bothered both of us but you could really pad a note a little. I appreciate honesty from guys, but there's a line. I still have some feelings for the love of Pete. And true, he could have not sent a note, but I knew anyway. In addition to my day of tears and job rejections I now have a wounded ego and bruised heart. He also said, "I really don't want to romantically see you at all." Like I'm going to not take no for an answer and come after him. It must be b/c I'm "frightening." He then offered some watered down friends supplement, like I want to hang out with that. Bitch, please. I hate that, when I know how things are going to go. It makes me wonder if I'm in control of changing my outcomes or if I'm just blindly following someone else's plan.

Fuck, I shouldn't be dating at all. Good reminder. Anything else now? Maybe I can go to a movie and have my pants unexpectedly fall down in front of 100 people. Oh, I know - how about I'll just set up a stand and people can walk by and remind me, you know, on their way to lunch, etc, why I'm undatable/unemployable. That would save me lots of time.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

quelques morceaux

<--- first pic of me on the blog! Workin' it in a clothing shop

Mon ami Anthony (pronounced Aunt Tony) has a new show up. I'm addicted to it. Last week he had more than one hundred comments on his blog...maybe this week we'll have, um, one... hazah!

Check out Borderline's new show, coming out tomorrow. Edited by Lynn, it's a more field-tripping version of our lovely little podcast. A joint effort by our longtime editor, Mr. Neil and our artist in residence Lynn, you'll be sure to cream your jeans at it's fantabulousness.

As always, AirFerg doesn't disappoint, though they do continue to use clips of Borderline without permission. If you can find it, I'll buy you a pony.* Their last show was freakin' funny, but I am all ready to battle the boob issues they discuss. If anyone can provide some insight, it's me...or Dolly Parton.

I was errand-kidnapped on Tuesday with the promise of a bagel. (why do I always fall for food!!?!?) Roommate went to get his hair cut at a tricked out hipster salon (I was in my granny jeans and dirty shirt, so thanks for that) and it's was the lllllllllllonnnnnnnngest hour and fifteen minutes of my life. However, the did have an Etch-a-Sketch (so hipster) on which I made some fabulous stairs and vintage 80's handheld vid games. BUT the best part was that his stylist brought in her bulldog puppy named Fiona. So freakin' cute!

Whenever I spellcheck my blog entries, it prompts me to replace freakin' with foreskin.

BTW, I do get lots of nice feedback and have especially this week. I appreciate the comments and those of you who read the blog, even my insanely long and serious entries. :)

*I will never, ever buy you a pony. That room is a disaster.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

New feature: Song of the _______

The very first Danni's Song of the Morning is "32 Flavors," live version (4:42) by Ani Difranco. I think this is something that I will periodically post, songs that reflect my mood or what's going on with me. I love music, it's such a big part of my day to day and maybe together we'll find some new favs. Feel free to pass along suggestions. Enjoy!

Thanks to Mandycane for first turning me onto this song.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Blubbering mootard

Okay, I am having a rather difficult week and am frustrated. Over the last week I have really been trying to put myself in some new situations, meet new people and be aggressive with getting out of this damn house. The trick about forcing yourself into new situations is that it's necessary to prevent personality atrophy and yet carries a great risk of vulnerability or the possibility of wounded feelings, this is why sometimes you have to force yourself to do it in the first place.

Friday night I attended, with my newfound Denver gfriend, a "singles mixer" a Fado's, a yuppie but well-designed "Irish pub" near Coors field, complete with textured walls, cool dingy lighting and two old guys who played Goo Goo Dolls and Tom Petty covers. I think going with a friend I wasn't very nervous, but I'm pretty gregarious so I'm not usually skittish to begin with. There were four women and four "men." One of these guys was "the guy" we all know - a 17-year-old alcoholic in the body of an overweight twenty-something "man" with spikey hair and some kind of computer phone complete with keypad, laser beams and a direct dial to Grey Goose and whose every other word was fuck. Really charming. One fellow, Wesley (does not even the name give you some set-up), acted like he had been watching those government social skills films from the 50's and imitating them. [Robotic voice] "Why hello! My name is Wesley," [shakes hand twice] "and what might your name be? That's a wonderful name. Welcome to the table. And what is it that you do?" [looks interested, perfect posture] He was the kind of pseudo-intellectual who couldn't actually be a critical thinker or carry on a conversation, just rattle off statistics and his CV. The third fellow was a crazy-haired, poorly toothed art teacher from "the Springs." So this guy had drive like two hours to get to this bar and "had no vices." He was a Christian Scientist and a BFA who didn't drink. He kept gleefully and proudly pointing to his soda when he declared
this(I briefly entertained a fantasy of seducing him into some shots and then watching him do a beer bong in one of his "awesome welding sculptures") and dissed my only actually interested question to him about First Fridays art walks. "Well, I mean whatever. Just come downtown and follow the crowds of yuppie people wandering around." The fourth guy, a very sweet but dull guy had teeth too big for his mouth, like on the sides. This gave him a kind of false accent and sort of an Eeek the Cat voice at the same time. He worked making "road tape" and had been through the police academy but was proudly declaring the easiest professors who "didn't make them do anything." I was kind of glad that he hadn't followed his pursuit of becoming a cop because I got this impression that not having to "do anything" was a goal in life. I had a great time with the organizer my Denver gfriend but we had to pull a, "Danni's not feeling well" escape down the main stairs, shortly BUSTED by the art maniac but then into open air. We had a lot of fun, and while I didn't get the networking I wanted, a cool gfriend is much more appealing than some lame guys.

Saturday I decided to meet for a quick lunch someone I had been chatting with via email. It sounded as though we had a lot in common, I had responded to his posting b/c it sounded like he had really excellent and similar taste in music but a clever headline. To meet for a sandwich, on the way to my dirty stadium job, was kind of last minute and I rode my bike so I went with wet hair and my Target associate style uniform on. I must have looked like a crazy person, trying to navigate Colfax with flying hair and an oddly tight shirt, my GINORMOUS backpack and bike. I had imagine that this sandwich would be just a sandwich and I could tick him off as just another Denvertard, those twenty-something boarder/biker/runner/smoker guys who have sadly stunted maturities. We said our awkward hellos and gave a handshake then ducked inside the dark, cool b&g for lunch. Having been partying for two days straight, his choice for beer gave me the freedom for a Bloody Mary (ah, see ya hangover!). And we sat, and chatted, and the weirdest fucking thing happened. He was interesting. He was intelligent. He was handsome, ethically aware and funny. I admit that right now my self-image isn't that great and I almost find comfort in the fact of dating losers b/c then I'm still kind of in control and kind of in a power seat. I know that sounds unhealthy and it probably is. So here I am with someone who I can already tell is a great person and I get nervous. We keep talking, and I ditch work, and we end up spending the entire day together. It was that bizarre phenomenon when you meet someone and you can't believe you another piece of the puzzle. That's how I felt when Lynn and I started hanging out in high school and became fast friends. And then we kept drinking and it kind of became weird and intense, I spent Sunday in agony of the person who (I am frequently this person) drinks too much and fucks up something cool. Now I find myself checking email, and my phone - did he call? Did he leave a message? What does this message mean, is this a turn into the just friends lane? I must remind myself I am not, in fact, 13.

I realize that what is difficult right now is that dating is like applying for jobs. You must pass tests, in one respect or another, pass judgments and wait for someone to decide who is the best candidate. Am I too chubby, did I smile enough or talk too much, did I fidget with my necklace, did I present my best self? And right now, the worst part is that I am not thinking about anything but finding a way to take him a lunch over his noon break or go for a walk in the park; we only went out once. I feel like some crazy Mary frickin poppins hybrid and if history tells me anything it's that this is the time for self-defense mode. I got a call this morning about some dumb waitressing gig, and they wanted someone with experience; I had presented them a polished resume and everything. I get turned down even for a waitressing gig. And I know it shouldn't bother me, but I am feeling rather alone and unwanted, despite my social progress. I don't know if I'll be able to stay here much longer without a job!

Friday, April 21, 2006

Shaken or stirred

Getting ready to go to scary twenty-somethings mixer. Hopefully this complicated bra contraption holds up, I think somehow I'm defying physics for the moment.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Breathe in...and in...and in...

and out. It's a club to which I don't belong right now, so do it up right for me!

Happy 4/20 people!

I feel dirty

Yesterday I decided to suck it up and answer a random ad to "jump start my career in sports marketing" and help sign-up people for credit cards at a major sports event. It was a very strange experience, and the only cool person there I apparently pissed off and offended.

I rode my bike the approximately 3 miles, navigating the cool but sunny day in downtown to the stadium. It was a very awkward feeling waiting outside the instructed gate, waiting for our as-of-yet-unseen organizers. A tall, pretty thin girl also waited and a stocky, late-twenties guy with overly spiked hair and huge eyes was also waiting in a dress shirt and khakis. We looked like misplaced GAP employees. "Please sir, we had to leave GAPtopia, please give us job, we sell other poor people credit cards for you." Emerging from behind the gate came one of the two promoters with kiosk passes for us. He didn't look more than 19-years-old and had unattractive, shaggy hair, a dirty shirt and untied skater tennies. His hair was overgrown in the front and combined with sort of funky but not quite glasses and oily skin added to his teenage looks. He was one of those guys who is "super excited!" and claims the job is "super easy!" if you get used to "people ignoring you!". We were cornered by his enthusiasm in a small supply room while we were handed jackets and shirt with the insignia of the team. Unfortunately, all he had were "larges!" and so the polo I was assigned hung to my knees. Try to tuck that into a pair of fitted trousers, I looked like Pat from SNL, all lumpy and with an indiscriminate gender. The jacket pullover was even bigger. I looked like a rogue umpire ready to throw someone out at the plate in my big, puffy navy blue wind jacket.

The kiosk was in a freezing wind tunnel of death. There was one Cool Girl there, who had lived all over and owned her own business. At first, she reminded me of my friend Shelly. I forget that in new situations, my tongue is totally tied. Give me a few hours and I'll loosen up and take over, but to begin with I can be very shy. Not only in this situation was I already tongue-tied and quiet, but I was being asked to yell at people like a fucking carnie. So when the first thing I said was, "Are you seriously asking me that?" when asked if I was the 'Danielle from the modeling agency,' she thought I was actually offended. Okay, um, sarcasm = 0, cool girl = 1. Then, only a few minutes into it, I was observing and really struggling to yell out things. I was so uncomfortable and had had 4 minutes of training. I'm a marketing pro, this isn't the way I would work a booth. It was crude and I didn't find particularly effective. So Cool Girl says, "If you aren't going to yell, stand behind the booth. It's the easier job." This did nothing to help my demeanor. I later made a comment that I had been "put" behind the booth by this girl she was obviously angry and I think she left. Great, I was trying to kid but she was kind of a bitch about it. Team "Security" came to us at one point to check out passes b/c someone in the group had had an outdated ticket on accident. This older, red-headed man in thick glasses walks up and DEMANDS my ticket. I say, "please," to him as one prompts a child. I couldn't believe what a dick he was! He was so curt that I ripped the ticket back out of his hand. Obviously I had offended his territory of Gate D and he stood there, staring at me, like one does to pick a fight. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

So thusly I began my career in vendorship: starting two fights w/in one half hour.

I did manage to work myself a secure spot at "the better booth." There it was much, much warmer out of the wind but still not in the sunshine. I worked with another organizer who was really sweet and didn't care that I wasn't screaming at people. I was pissed that I was taking all of the shit from Exciteable Boy b/c I was getting as many people to sign up as anyone else AND definitely more than the model Danielle. I think though a lot of guys did come over just because of her and a few asked me if they could have her instead of the giveaway tee-shirt. Gross. At the better booth I could kind of see some of the game, unfortunately, the home team got SPANKED and it wasn't that great of a game. I was doing okay until an older man, who I am nearly certain was autistic, came over to the booth. He didn't even know his own address and we didn't complete his application. But I was told, that even people with mental handicaps can apply for the credit card as long as they "understood what they're applying for" and "know their contact information." It gave me the shivers.

I don't know if I'll go back, but I guess now I can say I've been there, done that. I need a real fucking job!

This week:

  • Am reminded about the fuckwittage of old bachelor boys
  • Sold credit cards at a pro-baseball game
  • Got to see Coors field
  • Saw two lipsticks making out, it was really sweet
  • Have had zero units of alcohol since Friday night, well, okay, Sunday afternoon...Lynn :)
  • Someone asked me if I were, "There from the modeling agency..."
  • Have increased freckle population by approximately 1,000,000
  • Made a lean roast beef wrap (holy crap do I miss red meat! It is so delicious)
  • Started listening to: The Onion podcast and the BBC Radio News podcast (is v. brilliant)
  • Have played ZERO games of pool! Am going through withdrawal
  • Came to the realization that we aren't unpacking b/c the apartment sucks so badly, no one wants to stay
  • Ate two Snickers eggs (best candy ever made by humans)
  • Had a crazy-ass dream involving an airport, a wedding of a young family friend and a sobbing ex waiting in the choir nook

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

My day:

I am going to do some sales job thing at Coors Field. It seems a little shady, but in some ways I'm sort of intrigued, so if I don't post again tonight, you know, someone call the polis. Credit card sales booths may never have been so vibrantly manned before.

Monday, April 17, 2006

I'm BAaaaAAAAaAck

And exhausted. Most of today's efforts are being focused on sleep. Much more to come later.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Put chocolate in your coffee all day

Because MAN, does that make for a Good Friday or what?!?!

I am in Valley, Nebraska, in a terribly cold basement, tired and yes, even happy. I got in on the train yesterday at 7:15 AM, approximately eight and a half hours after departure. The train was a much, much, much nicer experience that I had hoped. The "quiet car" to which I was assigned allowed for one person to really have possession of two seats, wider and taller than a first-class airline seat. They had the ability to lean back almost all the way and offered a foot rest. I slept only about an hour on the overnight trip because it was SO COLD. I could hardly stand it, I was shaking and even my nose was cold to the touch. Just like a doggie. After 10:00 at night, overhead announcements are no longer made to allow people to sleep. The lights are dimmed and soft rocking back and forth of the train didn't make me sick as I feared, it made one sleepy. Had I had a blanket I could have slept just fine.

Denver Union Station is a HUGE, beautiful old station. The interior is much like Western Heritage Museum, for you Nebraskans. Upon arrival, conductors (in order of "grouping class") assign each passenger a train car. I listened near the conductor's booth to find someone who was also going to Omaha and was in my seating class, so I could stalk and hunt them down like a lion on a wounded gazelle. Had I been called to board by myself, I wouldn't have even been able to find the train. A spiky haired blonde man in glasses and earrings, who was carrying perhaps the largest duffel bag I had ever seen, fit the bill. He was even clever enough to wear a short overcoat that had perfect ticket-holding pockets, so he didn't have to balance his purse, backpack and duffel bag while clutching a ticket in his teeth. Note - to - self. When it was our turn to board, we wound around to a common hallway used by the light rail and snow trains. To climb up to the platform we went through a door labeled "Track 1" that was, I swear, no larger than a bedroom door. It was very odd, I felt like I should knock.

A conductor stands on the platform, and while he didn't say "All aboard!" used the "All aboard" tone of voice to yell to people to which car the need to go. I got inside the train and threw my largest bag on a pile of unsecured luggage. Coach is on the second level of a car and so I climbed a very narrow, nearly 360 degree stairwell to get to my seat. Above, in the "quiet car," was actually quite expansive. Each passenger had the room of two first-class airline seats, with twice the leg room and high seats which reclined almost completely. (While my legs wouldn't reach it) there is a foot rest for each passenger. The lubbing of the train and the dark, quiet car made me quite sleepy, but the freezing temperature made it impossible for me to rest. I had a hooded wool sweater and jeans but even my nose was cold to the touch, like a doggie. I had treated myself to one cocktail to help me in this endeavor, but it wasn't enough. So, I listened to podcasts and tried to not be too excited. It was like a kid at Christmas. "Go to sleep Dannielle, and when you wake up you'll get presents and love!" Who can sleep under those conditions? Ain't me, friend.

While I didn't have a great view most of the night because of the dark, I really got excited by the time we passed by UNL's Memorial Stadium and Lynn and I were already in constant communication. The scenery from Lincoln to Omaha was spectacular. As is common in the low-lying easter terrain, it was foggy and produced a soft but fiery red and orange sunrise. I appreciated the treeless plains in a different way than I had before, softer and less intimidating than towering pines and rocks. So the first train trip was good, but next time I need to bundle up like I'm going on an arctic trek and take lots of pillows.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Chugga, chugga

woot woot! I am preparing for my imminent depature for the weekend! I got a call this morning from Amtrak telling me my train was already delayed by two hours. Not a good start to the trip. I guess it's better for Lynn though, a pick-up at 7:14 instead of 5:14. I am getting excited, but I also am wishing that I didn't have so much other crap to do, I'd rather be on my way right now.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

One bourbon, one whiskey, no beers

Last nite was super fun. But, I had waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much bourbon. I made a great new friend and honed my pool skillz. Now I feel like burning and I am trying to get ready for my interview. Yeah!

Monday, April 10, 2006

My first outing

Tonight I am going to play pool with a gal from Denver. I am very excited b/c a: I'm leaving the house and it's not just to go to the park or the grocery store and b: we're going to play pool. My pool skillz is rusty yo and I'm never going to be able to shark anyone that way. Sheeet. Updates to come.

I have been soaking up as much sun as I can stand b/c I want to be all goldeny when I get home. Yes, I am wearing my Copertone 45, but I still can brown even with that. It's windy outside and even though I have an interview tomorrow to prepare for, I am content right now to take a nap. :)

Sunday, April 09, 2006


Guess who just emailed me?!?! That's right! Kirk! He's in "one piece" and it going to give me his address info so I can write to him. I guess it must not have been too terrible to hear from me. Yeah!

Saturday, April 08, 2006

I heart my UK friends!

Thanks for cheering up a crabby lady. :)

Friday, April 07, 2006


De-nied. Didn't get the big job, but she kindly offered me some career advice. Hey, lady, you said no. Let - it - go at that. :(

Give me some worms!

I am having a pity party day. I don't know what I am expecting will happen, I mean, I've been in the house for two days. It's not like I can expect life to come to me. But I feel very bad about myself and I can't stop crying. It's ridiculous and frustrating! I am a grown woman. But man, am I lonely right now. I'm not longing for home or another life, I just can't shake that basic, raw feeling of grief, of shame, loneliness.

My new living situation does not seem like it will be particularly successful. There will always be adjustments with new roommates, but it doesn't seem like it should be so difficult when you're in your mid-twenties. I'm having a hard time expressing that, while you may not be that interested in taking out the trash, I have to live with the smell everyday, all day in this fucking tiny ass apartment. And in return, I am apparently mean about the use of my computer equipment and am a bitchy nag. Maybe I am being a nag, I need order somewhere in my life. Right now, I have none. My roommate is the only person I know here, so on the outs with him leaves me totally alone and that's such an adjustment for me. In searching for me what was really the issue, I realized that it's about dignity and respect, and right now I'm getting none from my roommate or myself. I know it will get better and it could be much worse, but I am ready for a new week, a new day. Hmmmm, maybe a nap, maybe some Strongbad.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'll guess I'll go eat worms.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Love is a battlefield

I was thinking last night of someone I dated not too long after I lost my job in the fall. His name was Kirk and he was the oldest person I had ever dated. Taller than me but not too tall, he had blondish hair and a coy smile, a medium build that was strong but not gym-rat ripped. We didn't get much time together before he was deployed for training in Georgia and then back to the middle-east. Before we met, he had volunteered to go back to Iraq for a second tour of duty having first been stationed in Bosnia. He reasoned that as an officer and a full-time member of the Nebraska National Guard, he would return and be able to pay off his house, retire very early and would help those still in the country. It was something I couldn't comprehend, volunteering to go to Iraq, of all places. He had served his country and clearly it had taken a toll on him. For someone in his early-30's he had pain creases deep in his face. I don't mean natural wrinkles, they were in places that only come from constant frowns and straining, a truly weathered look...weathered by life and the elements.

I think, in retrospect, while the relationship was short-lived we found each other at very important times. Having just lost my job, and someone I cared about but just couldn't have, I needed some comfort and loving. I think I gave him some compassion and support that he needed while preparing to leave. It wasn't that he talked much about leaving, in fact, he couldn't talk about it. This guy had so many emotional scars they left him bound and gagged and, if I'm going to be honest, sometimes a little dangerous. The support was more about a connection to another human being, another soul that he could take with him when he left. At first I was angry about the way in which he left things, which was by disappearing and not calling, but I realize that he couldn't say goodbye. After everything he had seen I think it was too hard for him to leave on a sad note, he had to pick up his gear and just go. In some strange way it was also a comfort, I think if he hadn't been attached or we hadn't made that important connection, it wouldn't have been difficult to say goodbye.

I sent him an email this morning, not knowing if he will ever receive it or not, but sending one none-the-less. Honestly, I have no idea what the protocol is for wartime correspondence. Hey, how's it going, hope you're not dead, haven't talked to you in eight months, I have no right but I am thinking of you anyway. Oh, by the way, I moved away from Nebraska so if, like me, you had ever harbored a fantasy reunion in your mind, it's doubtful. I felt foolish trying to write it but I felt compelled to do so. I supposed it's never terrible to get a note from someone who says they're thinking of you. I don't know if the fact that it's someone to whom you've made love makes a difference or not, someone you had to let go before going back to war. Will that hurt him more than it will help? I want to GOOGLE his name but afraid to find an obituary pulled up in the search.

Dating Kirk gave me a face and an appreciation, if not a true understanding, of the toll that war or military "conflict" takes on human beings. It reminds me of a short-lived but sweet and intense connection I made and that, despite my recent self-focused nature, it's something I could probably summon up again. If even a connection is only made somewhere in the ether, I hope he feels it right now.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Come on, ride it! *woot woot*

<-- I am going to see these people and more!!

I've booked my first train tickets, I'll be swingin' home for Easter weekend! I have never ridden a train before so I've been on the phone with Amtrak approximately 18 times so far today asking really ridiculous, grandma-like questions. We tease our parents for being technologically archaic, but I might as well have asked the gal today trains ran on their own power or we had to give it a gettin' ready push b/c I have no idea how the trains work.

Things I've learned about riding trains:

1) You are able to use cell phones as service is available

2) There is a dining car AND a "lounge" car (show me the bar, peeps)

3) You can take your bike but it requires the purchase of a "bike box" and a service fee

4) It will take me as much time to ride the train as it would to drive BUT I can fall asleep on the train and probably not kill anyone
5) Only one train goes in and out of each station each direction (NE or SE) each day, so I will be arriving in Omaha at approx 1000 o'clock in the morning (how much does Lynn love me? hmmm...)
6) It's pretty danged cheap

Plug me in, baby!

8:00 AM Mountain, Danni gets the internet! Holy mother of pearl! Two and a half months without it have seemed like an eternity. I also got basic cable and am now watching a riveting episode of Magnum PI, just because I can.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

My first rejection letter! Hazah!

This is how it SHOULD be done people! Thank you, Media Strategies, for rejecting me properly, on letterhead. You get a cookie.

Everything you love is made of petroleum

The first interview on Friday went well, I have one under my belt! In interviews, it is always my goal to start confidently and, I don't know, something happens. I kind of leave my body and enter this Zen-like state where I'm a poised statue. This is "the zone." It's an exhilarating feeling. First, I build up "the danni" as it were and try to get to the point in the conversation where you turn it (high-fives) and the interviewer sells YOU the job or starts using verbiage like, "your job, you will be doing this, etc." If someone really wants you to go to work for them, this is the point when you can get the potential employer to tip their hand. I a-l-m-o-s-t thought I had the lady.

Lady: "Your job will be to..."
Me: Do it, say it, say it! Come on baby, I know you want to say it for Dannielle!
Lady: "Or, your potential job would be to analyze that incoming data..."
Me: Poop!

I had some great questions prepared and that gave us more face-time to discuss. She did actually say in the interview, "I have eight people I am interviewing," (okay, lot's of competition and it's only the first interview) "and they all have their positives and negatives." (in context, this meant my lack of direct to consumer product marketing and years of experience) "There is someone applying who has twenty-years experience with Major Beer Company." (dude, how do I get HIS fucking job) "But, I don't really want to train and hand-hold someone who is older than me, with more experience!" (probably shouldn't mention age discrimination to me IN the interview but whatever)

Mixed - signals. I knew I was underqualified when I applied, and I knew this would come up in the interview and I was prepared for it, but really, you have to bring up someone like THAT! Good reminder that I am playing ball outta my league. The end of the interview became very conversational and that is a good thing, it's just difficult and critical to know exactly when to cut that cord. It was the only time in life that my knowledge of
Arbonne skin-care products has or probably ever will come in handy. I figured a woman into homeopathic medicine would like it...and she did AND it's also a Swiss product. Score one for the danni...maybe I SHOULD be in sales. Lynn and I once attended an Arbonne skin-care products party at the home of a friend. We learned that everything we use in the US is made from some form of crude petroleum and refined by burning it at thousands of degrees, that we will probably all die of cancer, and they sell a product we dubbed, "colon blow."

I am waiting to hear if I will have a second interview with the CEO. I think I have some career ($) potential here. Brand management would be huge for me and help me take another step towards California.