I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but I look very young for my age. When I'm not dressed up or wearing make up (which is often) I probably appear to be maybe a high school senior. You can imagine that working as a professional social worker with younger clients I'd get teased a lot. People are always joking that they mistake me for my clients. While I'm beyond sick of hearing it, 99% of the time I fake a laugh and make some sort of friendly comment back.

Well last night I was in charge of a highly anticipated event that was being hosted at the elementary school where I work. I dressed in a suit and actually did my make up for a change. As a professional social worker hosting a rather large event, and meeting many parents and students for the first time, you can imagine my displeasure when the Master of Ceremony introduced me by saying, "When I met this young lady I asked her if she is a student here at XXXXX Elementary School. I found out later that she's a social worker here and a Master's candidate at XXXX University. Please welcome your school social worker, who looks about 14 years old, Pepper Perez."

He actually gave me a very nice compliment after I spoke saying he was impressed by my public speaking abilities, but I couldn't help but be rubbed the wrong way.

At any rate, the event that I had been dreading turned out to be a very big success and I'm happy that weight is lifted. Now I can pull back a little. I'm celebrating with a nice, relaxing four day weekend. A trip to the beach is definitely in order. Sometimes it's good to live in Miami.

MIA in MIA

Call DCF and report me for neglect. I am in grad school, so this was to be expected, but some pretty ridiculous things have happened to me thus far, and being the good little social worker in training that I am, I'm all about documentation. So here's what's been going on for the last two months.

Quick stats:
Number of Palmetto bugs I've encountered: 2
Number of lizards I've discovered in my apartment: 2
Number of lizards I was able to catch: 1
Times I've cried because I was homesick: 1
Number of boys I've dated: 2
Number of all-nighters I've had to pull: 1
Number of good friends I've accumulated: 4
Number of enemies I've accumulated: 2
Number of visits I've gotten from my homies: 1
Number of times I've been home: 1
Number of times I've had car trouble: 2 (and counting)
Number of dollars in my bank account: YIKES!

The Skinny:

School- Well I can't say this is what I expected out of graduate level classes, but I'm chalking it up to it being the first semester: the subject matter is boring, they're easing us into it, and it sucks cause we had no choice about classes or professors. Maybe next semester will be better.

Internship- I'm interning at an elementary school as a school social worker. I have a ridiculous amount of responsibility and almost no supervision. I'm afraid I'm going to royally screw up someone's life. But mostly I like it.

Friends- Pretty quickly after classes started I developed a core group of friends. We go out almost every Friday and we're pretty and fun and for the most part single. There is one friend I have here (we'll call her Trudy) who I adore and although it's only been a couple of months, I really trust her and know if I'm in a bind she'll look out for me. Excellent. That's exactly what I needed.

Boys- Well this is probably my favorite topic, as I've come to the realization that after 3 1/2 years of being single, I'm ready for a relationship if the situation presents itself. In other words, if the right guy comes along, I think I could commit to exclusivity. I'm by no means "searching", however.

So, boy #1, we'll call him George so as not to confuse him with #1. George made a very good first impression, and was a very promising prospect. He's very attractive and exactly my type. Tall, muscley, but not too much, and Spanish with a hint of an accent. Our first date went so well. He was a gentleman, spent a decent amount of money on me, asked interesting questions, was very easy to talk to and he made me feel extremely comfortable, which is quite the accomplishment for a first date. Frankly, it didn't really feel like a first date at all. No awkward silences or anything. After that we talked on the phone nearly everyday, and anytime I texted him, he would call me to see how I was. Our third date was to South Beach on a Saturday night as I'd mentioned I'd never been. He spent a ton of money on me that night as well and I had the best time dancing bachata and salsa and reggaeton with him...something I rarely get to do. It was great. Did I mention he carries a gun? He consistently carries a gun. With a CCW license of course. I investigated to make sure this was legit. I like guns, so that was alright with me. But then there was red flag #1. It was time to launch the rocket, but there was no lift off. This happened not once, not twice, but three times in our rather short ordeal. Then red flag #2. He's homophobic. And beyond homophobic, he's somewhat hateful of gay people. I kicked him out of my apartment one night after discussing the issue and seriously wondered if I should just end it there. I didn't have to do much more thinking, because then there was red flag #3. He asked to stick a cucumber in my special place. Seriously. And then it was over.

And along came boy #2. We'll call him Josh. During the time George and I were seeing each other Josh and I became friends. We talked daily. Josh is not at all my type. Blonde hair, blue eyes, listens exclusively to music most people don't know, and can't possibly picture him at a club. We went out to eat together, but we split the check; it was on a strictly friends level. We even discussed the fact that we were just friends. So one Saturday night we were chatting on AIM and decided since we both were doing nothing, we should do nothing together. So I drove over to his apartment, sat on the couch, and we turned on Pulp Fiction at around midnight. If you don't know, Pulp Fiction is quite long. Anyway, we got about 75% of the way through the movie when we both got cold and shared a blanket, but still no funny business. 90% of the way through the movie, though he holds my hand. This has me confused because frankly
I imagined this was a possibility, but since it was 3 am and we'd been watching the movie for about 2 hours and 40 minutes already, I thought nothing would happen. At any rate the movie ended, one thing led to another and, well, you get the rest. But I broke a very important rule of mine. More than a rule. A commandment in the Book of Pepper. A cardinal sin. An abomination. A commandment I have not broken since I instated it in 2006. Thou shalt not sleep over. And the following week when he cooked me a delicious dinner, I broke it again.

I'm not a typical girl in that I don't get attached just because I knock boots with a guy. The act of literally sleeping together is in a lot of ways more intimate to me, which is why I have that very strict rule. And here I am this Saturday night missing Josh. He's away visiting his family and I'm lost, as my weekends have taken on a comfortable pattern: Friday night=girls' night out. Saturday night=Night with the flavor of the week (or month, as the case may be).

At any rate, Josh and I are going to see Where the Wild Things Are after he returns from his mini-vacation and I couldn't be more excited.

And now my first two months in Miami have officially been documented. I'll try to do better, I promise.

Bienvenidos a Miami!

I made it! I made the move from New Jersey, my home of 23 years to Miami. I arrived Saturday afternoon and I'm still deciding what to make of it. So far:

I love

• my apartment
• my internship
• the endless possibilities & opportunities I have being in a new city knowing absolutely no one.
• the fact that no one knows me

I like

• the heat
• spanish EVERYWHERE
• sitting poolside reading a book
  

I hate

• the torrential downpour that comes 3 times daily without any sort of warning.
• the frogs. They're cute during the day, but at night they make this horrific noise and since my apartment overlooks the pond I hear it all night long.
  
• the traffic
• and on that note...the drivers. People may complain about Jersey drivers, but never have I ever seen a car facing the wrong way on 95 in NJ. Number of times I've seen it in Miami since I arrived: 2.
• my friends/family aren't here and I miss my mommy.

It's too early to make any kind of judgment. I was in hysterics the first night. When I called my mom to say goodnight, I got all choked up and had to hang up abruptly to keep her from worrying. I haven't cried much since that first night though. It is somewhat overwhelming to think that there's not a soul in this city I can call a friend, but that will quickly change I'm sure. I'm full of optimism.

Pepper and Ambien do NOT mix.

WARNING: This entry contains subject matter and language that may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

With my move to Miami a mere day away (part 1 at least), my anxiety has reached new levels making my insomnia 8372493 times worse than usual. My doctor prescribed me Ambien about 2 weeks ago. I tried it the night I picked it up from the pharmacy and it worked...I slept like a baby, but the next day I suffered from a killer headache and nausea that rivaled even my worst hangover. And it lasted until I went to bed again and woke up the following morning. Since that experience I've been reluctant to try again. But I realized I didn't follow the instructions which said to take the pill with a full glass of water. This time, I got in bed and swallowed the pill with water and sat up in bed finishing the bottle. (I realize this is more than a glass, but I didn't want to take any chances.) I tried with all my might to fight the sleep that the Ambien was forcing upon me in favor of finishing the bottle of water, but eventually it was too much to bear. With less than an ounce of water left, I put the Poland Spring bottle on my nightstand and began to settle into a comfortable sleeping position, when suddenly I am forced forward and without warning I begin spewing vomit. Panicked, I reach for the garbage can not far from my bed, but in my Ambien induced stupor, I knock it over and proceed to vomit some more with the trash can on its side.
My initial reaction is 'Shit! I just threw up my birth control and my Ambien. I'm going to get pregnant and I'll be up all night.' My second reaction is 'I need to clean up this mess...I can't believe there was no warning that I was going to vom.' This thought motivates me to get out of bed and proceed to the linen closet to get a towel to clean up my mess. Except the instant I step out of bed, my reaction is 'Fuck, I'm sleepy.' I stumble clumsily to the linen closet and grab what feels like a towel. I have to use my sense of touch since I literally can't keep my eyes open. After bumping into the door ways I make it back to my room and kneel down to clean up the disgusting mess. I fall backwards. I wake up at 4 am...three hours later...on the floor...with a pile of vom at my feet. Good thing I fell backwards.

I did clean up the vom just after I woke at 4, right after I caught my bearings and went back to sleep (in my bed the second time). I still had horrible feelings of headache and nausea all day today.

I had been in the middle of a text conversation with #1, while I was finishing that bottle of water. My end of the convo went like this:

12:53am: Okidl watitk news so de
12:55am: Wrathh 4 ? Entryip tut

It's pretty clear at this point that Ambien is just not for me. Not sleeping is definitely beats that horrific experience.

The Talk

I was 18 the first time I fell in love.

When I was in high school I was a very different person from the woman I am today. I was straight edge, I loved Jesus (I still do, but I show it in a much different way now), I went to Jesus camp, I thought I would never touch alcohol, and I didn't believe in premarital sex.

When I was 16 I met a boy. He was 20 and the ex-boyfriend of my best-friend-at-the-time's older sister. We met while I was sleeping over said friend's house. At a subsequent sleepover we ended up fooling around a little (and I mean a little). From there we ended up talking on AIM all the time and arranging secret meet-ups. I say secret because neither of us told our friends about it and I always had to lie to my mom about where I was going. We would hang out and talk and eventually end up hooking up and then he'd drive me home. We always went to neutral locations. This went on for two years.

In August of 2004 he took me to a bar. I had just turned 18 and still didn't drink. We played pool (a sport at which I was and still am dreadful), he made fun of me, and kissed me in public for the first time. I fell in love for the first and only time that night.

I left for college 8 hours away one week later. Because of the distance and the fact that we'd never talked about our feelings for each other I just assumed he'd move on, and I came to grips with that. But he started calling and texting and he'd ask when I was coming home and he'd countdown the days. When I came home for Thanksgiving, he invited me to a bonfire with him and a few friends, and he introduced me and held my hand and kissed me in front of them.

I went back to school. And the next time I came home was Christmas break. He took me to a party at his best friend's house and taught me how to play poker. His friends liked me and I liked them, and best of all he treated me like I was his girlfriend. I lost my virginity that night.

I went back to school yet again, and this pattern continued until the summer. I remember vividly the first time we saw each other for the first time after the school year ended. We walked around in a park, went to a convenience store and bought a deck of cards that we never actually played with, and walked around some more. We made wishes with pennies in a fountain and a set of sprinklers turned on on us and we laughed. When I went home the next morning I decided that the next time I saw him I would tell him that I loved him.

Three days later myspace informed me he was in a relationship. It was not with me. We didn't speak for almost a year.

After that year passed he texted me out of the blue and eventually we ended up hanging out and hooking up again. This went on until about a year and a half ago. It was then that I decided our relationship was unhealthy because I was so attached and he was so not. So I started distancing myself, but my willpower wasn't always strong enough leading to my very hot and cold temperament with him.

I'd been good, though. I didn't see him for around 6 months until he texted me one day asking if I could pick him up and "watch a movie" because he had a flat tire. It was the midnight and I was just getting off work, so I agreed to pick him up, but refused to "watch a movie". We had awkward conversation in the car and informed me he was moving 800 miles away. He hugged me goodbye and thanked me for the ride. That was the last time I saw him before he left.

About a week ago we had "the talk". It went like this:

#1: [Abruptly] do you know you texted me that you love me a couple weeks ago?

me: i don't recall, but i don't doubt that i did. was it a late hour?

#1: yes

#1: you were drunk

#1: you dont doubt it>?

me: i don't doubt that i texted you that.

#1: so you love me?

#1:

me: loved. yes.

#1: oh used to?
#1: no more love for me?

me: i mean sure as a friend.

#1: well i loved you too

Since #1 is the only person I've ever loved I always wondered if I imagined it. I'd almost convinced myself that I was just young and naive and maybe it wasn't really love at all. The conversation went on and leads me to believe that he is still in love with me. I fell our of love with him several months ago, and doubt I'll ever feel the same about him as I once did, but I was so glad to have those feelings validated. I really do know what love is.

"I want to help people."

Yesterday was my last day of work. I had been dreading it, mainly because of the "hot seat" ritual. At my job when a client is positively discharged from the program or when a staff member leaves the company on good terms, we hold a hot seat and dinner. Hot seat is where the person leaving is the center of attention and everyone in the room (both clients and staff) say some final words to the person leaving and the person leaving says something to everyone else. It's a nice part of closure, but I generally dislike being the center of attention and was worried about what I would say so one particular client who I find to be a vile human being. I was also worried about what the girls would have to say to me too. I begged my supervisor not to make me have one. But I did. And now I'm so glad I did. Everyone (save that aforementioned client) had extremely nice things to say about me. Almost everyone cried and almost everyone said I really made a difference to them. My supervisor and my favorite coworker broke down in tears. But what meant more was the girls telling me how important I was in their progress.

I am not well paid. I will never be rich doing what I do. I work the worst hours and sometimes miss out on big events with friends and family. I get cursed out at work at least 3 times a week. I cry at least bimonthly because of work. I get physical bruises from restraining clients. In all the day to day bullshit that goes on at work, I sometimes forget why I chose this career path. There are so many times when I would be mid-crisis hold and think, sitting in an office from 9-5 would be so much easier. And it would be. The other thought that would always fill my mind is Am I really making a difference?

Yesterday I was reminded that what I do really, really matters and all the money in the world could NEVER compare to the feeling of knowing that because I exist, the world really is a better place.

And now for my next trick....

I am definitely developing insomnia. This is a real problem, as I need to be extraordinarily productive in the coming weeks and I'm finding I have less and less energy. Fortunately many of the tasks I need to complete involve shopping, which is a strong motivator. The less fun things on my list (room cleaning, laundry, scheduling doctor's appointments, pharmacy runs, learning to cook, etc.) are not getting done. On top of that, I'm finding spending time with my friends a chore, which is a horrible thing to have happen. I'm just so damn tired all the time. I have got to find a way to fall asleep before 6 am. Or at least a way to make the time I spend awake productive.

Well I officially have six days left of work. My last day is Thursday and we still haven't told the girls. Speaking of the girls...Today I took two clients to their doctor's appointments. One client (LY) was just going for her initial physical. The other (JG, a challenging client as she is severely cognitively limited unlike any of our other clients) went because she had been complaining of pain in her ear for the past few days. The two clients and myself are in with the doctor when the doctor looks in JG's ear. The doctor says "what is that in there?" and asks me to come look. Its white, so I ask JG if she'd been using Qtips to clean her ears. JG said yes, and everyone in the room agreed the foreign object stuck in her ear was probably a piece of cotton. The doctor attempted to get the cotton out with a pair of tweezers, but was unsuccessful as it was too far into JG's ear canal. At this point, Doc had no choice but to flush out her ear. I've had this done before and warned JG that this is an uncomfortable experience, but the process will relieve the discomfort she'd been feeling. The nurse came in and began the process. Sixteen year old JG began to scream and cry and knock things over in much the same manner as the 8 year old boy reacted to a shot. We'd previously concluded that the little boy was too old to be reacting so violently. The process ended, fortunately without major injury. The object was still lodged in JG's ear, but was pushed out far enough for the doctor to grab with the tweezers. The object is removed, and the following is unveiled:

Sadly in my wild fit of laughter, I was unable to hold the phone steady enough to take a clear picture. But that, my friends is a gum wrapper. With a tiny piece of green (probably spearmint) gum inside. How the gum wrapper got inside JG's ear? The world may never know.