I Got the Stuff You Got the Money?

I need a new bank. It's such a pain in the ass to go to National City. I can't switch now though. Mostly because I have pretty much no money. But also because it would further my bank's suspicion that I'm a drug dealer. Well, I guess they don't really believe that. Not yet, anyway. But the thing is I walk the dog, so I am always coming in and depositing checks for like 50 bucks. And then a few weeks ago I deposited 100 dollars cash. And the FLYMF check for $8.54. My job at Columbia is direct deposit, so the only thing the bank teller ever sees me do is deposit personal checks and cash. And it's always the same asian guy. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time he goes in he asks me for a dime bag.

I still don't even know my bank account number. Every week I come in and tell him "I don't know my account number but I wrote down my Social Security Number." I'm fairly certain that at this point he's memorized my account number, and thinks that I'm just too damn high to remember it. I like this bank because there is never a line. I walk in, fill out my deposit slip at the table with the chained pen and the conveniently updated calender (since the new phone doesn't display the date like the old one did, this countertop calender is a necessity) and walk right up to the counter. I hate waiting in line at the bank. Everybody in front of me is an asshole who is convinced that their monetary needs are more important than anything else, while everyone at the counter is taking so long that you can't help but wonder what the hell they are actually doing. Is this their first time coming to a bank ever? Are they getting a full overview? Who knows. I better get the teller with the dish of root beer candy.

Speaking of money, I think I'm out of a job. The telefund hasn't been going well. Turns out Alumni like to be called and asked for money about as much as I like calling them asking for it. This Tuesday is the "Mid-Telefund Evaluation" meeting. I'm pretty positive this is going to include them telling us to find new jobs. I'll miss it. It was an easy job.

So I'm at home for the weekend. Ashley and I came back Thursday night. We didn't leave until late because Jeff forced me to go look at the apartment with him. Forced, I say! I had no choice. Anyway we didn't leave Chicago until about 6, and after stopping at 10 different McDonalds to find the right coffee for Ashley, missing our exit in Indiana, and stopping for gas, we made it home around 11:30. I was worried I'd start to get tired and fall asleep, which would suck for Ashley, who was driving. Luckily she had Now That's What I Call Music Volume 2 on her, which kept us awake and energized the entire time. Now 2 is perfect. It's right before pop music became garbage. Robbie Williams, Semisonic, New Radicals...that kind of stuff. And admit it, "Baby One More Time" isn't THAT bad when you only listen to it once every 5 years.

I need to figure out what I'm doing with my life. I guess LA. I'm at Columbia for next year, then I will do Semester in LA in the summer and be done with school. From there, I don't know. Stay in LA? Back to Chicago? I guess it all depends. On one hand, I don't want to live in LA for the rest if my life. On the other hand, I truly wouldn't mind waiting tables at Bennigan's in Hollywood either. I want to write for TV. That's basically it. And I'm definitely aware of the whole disappointment and persistence aspect. But how long is too long? When do I give up and lower my goals and settle on something? I don't want to be 50 and giving tours of the NBC studio wondering what the hell I've done with my life. There's always DisneyLand if I need a job, I suppose.