Week Ending 4/27/2014
Fear: That if my sister-in-law gets full custody of my niece, she will move away to another state (far, far away) and we will never see my niece again. She has told us that is her plan. Her grown children have told us that is her plan, and that she has asked them to move with her, and they have said no. Do you think my brother could understand that the way to get joint custody is to prove why he is a fit parent and not to try to prove why she isn't? NO! Instead, both parties post nasty messages about each other on Facebook (EVIL), text nasty messages to each other, and say nasty things to each other. And due to an argument that ensued last week, my SIL is no longer cooperating with my brother's lawyers. There is a giant "S/He started it!" war going on right now. I just can't get anyone in this family to see that being a grown-up is about ignoring the childish messages and focusing on the child in the middle. But, again, NO! What SHE said was just plain wrong! We must retaliate! I'm afraid the battle has already been lost and we might as well pack my niece's bags.
Disgust: People who make fun of something someone else enjoys. For instance, this week I read a quote from Stephen King about the difference between Harry Potter and Twilight. I've never read Twilight, so I don't know if it really is as vapid as some say. I'm sure it's not that bad. But here's a crazy idea: encourage fans of Twilight to read something else they might enjoy, too. Make the suggestion similar to Twilight but maybe a little more 'respectable.' If all these fans ever hear is how stupid their choice of reading is, they will come to hate reading, or sharing what they've read, for fear of being made fun of again. To me, it is this mindset, the one that can't just accept someone else's happiness, that is killing literature (and the world).
Sadness: How much people don't feel like doing something for me. On my birthday, no one felt like making me a cake/pie/dessert, even though they told me days before they were planning a blackberry pie (my favorite). When it came to dinner, instead of asking me where I would like to order food from because they didn't feel like cooking, my mother came home with crappy fast food and said she thought I loved the food she brought me. No. I hate that food. It has onions and peppers in it and everyone in this family should know I hate onions, particularly. She also had crappy TV dinners and told me I could just pick one of those. Then she complained behind my back (but loud enough for me to hear) about how I'm never pleased with anything she does. Because she never really considers what I would like. The same thing happened last year, by the way, where my favorite dinner was dangled in front of me all day, then when the time came my mother said, "You can just make yourself a sandwich. I'm not in the mood to cook." This year, for the past week, my niece has agreed to cut my really shaggy hair as a birthday present. Every day that I've seen her she isn't in the mood, or she barks at me about being busy (looking on the computer for three hours), or that she feels sick (but fine to eat cheesecake and run around outside smoking cigarettes). If I express FEELINGS, though, I'm a crybaby.
Anger: I have one coffee cup that I love. I love it. It is the perfect size and shape. It has the logo of a bookstore that is no longer in business on it. I cannot replace it. I have asked everyone in this stupid family to use one of the five million other coffee cups we have, particularly if they are taking the cup into the basement. It is a cement floor! Do you think they can do so? I search through the cupboards for it every morning. When it is not there nor in the dishwasher, I KNOW one of them has taken it. I ask them, "Do you know where my bee cup is?" (The logo is a 'bee' for 'Beehive Books.') At first, every freaking time, they pretend not to know the cup to which I am referring. Fuck you. Inevitably, they continue their denial of knowledge of said cup, I choose another cup, and move on, angrily. An hour later, miraculously, the cup appears out of nowhere, dirty, disgusting, and I have to clean it AND put it through the dishwasher before my lips can touch it again.
Happiness: Well, frankly, that we are moving and there is a chance we will be out of this mess of a household soon. The new apartment is about half the size of this one, but who cares? I will be able to do my laundry in my own home! I will be able to buy food and put it in the big refrigerator without fear it will be gone by the next day! I will be able to wash my face at night without having to wait for whomever and their girlfriend to be done showering for over an hour! My bedroom is a mess right now, as you can imagine, as I sort/pack/trash it all. All of our bills will go down. We don't even have a water bill; it is in with the rent. Now, as long as none of them end up on our doorstep a month down the line, life will be a little happier.
Surprise: The amount of trash one human being can produce. As I go through my bedroom packing, I cannot believe the amount of useless crap I have acquired. The university magazine I receive monthly that I never read. A box of crackers that has a handful left in the bottom that I forgot about on the bookshelf. At least five simple tank tops that have stretched out but I've just cycled them to the bottom of the drawer. I need a cleaning routine. But, as we all know, let's be honest, I am a procrastinator. I am messy and disorganized. I am a clutterbug. I am counting SIX random fast food condiment packs on my desk right now. Wow, I'm a pig. (What if I'm not any different than those people downstairs?)
Randomness: The best celebrity baby name I've heard is Moxie Crimefighter Jillette, daughter of Penn Jillette from the Penn & Teller magical duo. I've actually wanted to name a daughter Moxie since I was very young, and I don't mind Crimefighter because it's her middle name. I do, however, hope she goes to school with Jermajesty Jackson, son of Jermaine Jackson, and protects him from the bullies who NO DOUBT spend every day tripping him and saying, "Excuse me, Jermajesty."
April 30, 2014
April 20, 2014
The Short, Short Version #8
For a lot of missed time.
Fear: That I am going blind. In the morning I see everything as though the room is filled with smoke. It takes about 10 minutes for the haze to clear. I am no longer allowed to drive without my glasses. Without them, I cannot make out the color of a stoplight. A few years ago, the woman at the BMV told me to read the fourth line and I told her I could barely make out the first line, and so restriction 'D' on my license represents my failing sight.
My sister in the wheelchair has lumps in her breast. The doctor has told her they are most likely precancerous cells and that she may already have developed breast cancer. They are doing several biopsies for different lumps. My sister started crying hysterically yesterday, understandably, because she is a grandmother now and why, why now, and what will happen to her children, and when will all of her continuous illnesses end, and why can't it be someone else for a change, and why does she even get up in the morning anymore, and who does she have to talk to, and why isn't there anything that can be done, and how will she survive chemotherapy with her compromised immune system, and why aren't any of us as angry as she is? There are no words.
Disgust: Our landlords have decided not to renew our lease. We must find a new apartment. My parents have told my brother and I (who are just us) that we can come with them for now. They have told my sister, her two sons, and their two girlfriends that they cannot come. They are why we lost our lease. They are five people. They pay nothing. We all know this. They are pissed! It isn't fair! In the meantime, none of them have looked for jobs nor have they actively sought an apartment. For years now, my sister in the wheelchair has told my other sister to apply for government housing because it's a long wait. Other Sister did not do so. Wheels (she calls herself that for all you PC people) pays $120 in rent. And her apartment is nice. Other Sister refused because it was beneath her to be on Welfare. Beneath her.
I cannot just jump in. To anything. If someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch with them in an hour, I will say no. An hour is not enough notice for me to change my routine of...doing nothing. I also cannot jump into a project. I wanted to start a quote journal. But I could not use one of the many, many journals I had. No, this one is for thoughts and feelings. This one is for reading notes. This one is a bibliography. This one is a 'random titles for stories' journal. I also cannot get up in the morning if it is 6:57 or 7:02. It must end in a 0 or a 5. It is limiting, each her own OCD, and disturbing.
Sadness: The cat. The cat is gone. Sometimes I come out of the shower and expect him to be lying on my clean clothes. But he is not there. I gave my mom a flash drive to transfer pictures from her computer and when she had them developed, she noticed I had pictures on it, too. So she developed them. She was really excited because one of them was a picture of me with the cat on my lap. Except it wasn't the cat. It was Cat Lady's cat. And that made both me and my mom sad. We yell at people about leaving the front door open, but there's no longer any reason; there's no cat trying to escape.
The man I'm in love with is married. I see him about twice a week, but not like that. It's a business relationship, strictly. I am awkward and geeky and he knows I'm in love with him (someone let it slip). He talks to me about his guitar and his pets and I talk to him about how Queen Elizabeth was once a truck driver. He is super handsome and brilliant. And taken.
Anger: A girl at work, who only works (on average) two days a week, has taken to pointing out when her statistics are better than someone else's. Especially if that other person is in management. Now look, I don't need to be the best. I'm not and never will be. It isn't that she congratulates herself or expresses relief that she has performed as expected. She will say, "Oh, look, my stats are way higher than yours. It seems like mine are always better than yours." At first we thought it was because she felt the need to compete with the manager she could have replaced if said manager had left earlier this year. But it has begun to leak to everyone. We try to throw it back at her whenever we're better than she is, but she has some magical ability to sell with minimal effort. We run up and down for people and they buy one shirt. She stands at the desk and her customers bring her twenty items they don't need to try on. It's driving us nuts.
I suffer from acne. Bad acne. I have gotten it under control recently but occasionally I still have breakouts and when I do, they are extensive and painful. Right now the weather is nice enough at times to be wearing sleeveless shirts. My back is riddled with bumps and scars. Sometimes it is covered in Band-Aids. When I try to talk to someone about being self-conscious, they try to show me the little bump they have on one of their shoulders, or the little, tiny blackhead they have on their nose, or the little, insignificant red mark they have that could turn into a pimple any day. It is like when a woman who is a size 20 talks to me about her muffin top. I have muffin top too, but I don't point that out to her. Because hers is a real problem, and I am a size 5, and while it is the one area of my body I consider 'fat,' I will not point out my muffin top to her. It is not the same. It will not make her feel better about herself. I have acne. You have a pimple. I have scars. You have a rash. I have a problem. You have an inconvenience. Please don't belittle my pain.
Happiness: I went on a trip to Seattle for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Conference. I went by myself! I had a nice hotel room to myself! My time revolved around my priorities and schedule! I went to some useless seminars! I made connections with an awesome book press! I walked around the big city! I spent over 40 hours in the airport or on a plane between my two flight days! I saw Frozen and Thor: The Dark World on the planes! When it said it was 35 degrees, it was actually 35 degrees! I visited the Space Needle! I didn't really have the money for this trip but it was a kind of 'now or never' moment in time. I'm glad I did it.
My niece had a baby girl! She is adorable. She has the roundest head ever on a child born into this world. Other people comment on the roundness of said child's head. She sleeps a lot. We try to take pictures of her with her eyes open, but she sleeps on, then we look away and she opens her eyes. Just as we notice and get ready for a picture, she closes them again. We tickle her and call her name and are extremely annoying, but she is persistent. It is a frustrating game of peek-a-boo. But it is also very cute.
Surprise: That there are people who consider leggings inappropriate. Maybe others feel they reveal too much of a girl's curves, or maybe there are girls who wear them too tight and create camel toe, or maybe some are a little too see-through, but if they are thicker or black or the only thing wrong is they frame a girl's butt and thighs and leave little to the imagination, I counter with the miniskirt. I recently read a fashion book where the author talked about what a revolution the miniskirt was for sexuality, but I have also read this person's disdain for leggings as inappropriate (as pants themselves). I just don't get it. To me, it's a clothing item that fits some bodies but not others, looks fine in some colors/patterns but not others, and is totally appropriate in some situations but not others.
That I enjoy having a budget. Because I have a new car payment, I have to pinch pennies a lot more than I previously have. I actually like putting change in a piggy bank. I like transferring my tiny amounts to my savings account whenever possible. I like seeing what my grown-up bills are and preparing for the month ahead. I think it is good for me to have limits. It's true that you enjoy things you feel you earn more than things that are free.
Randomness: At work, when we have a damaged item, we have to send a report to the home office. One of the blanks we have to fill in is "Country Description." What they mean is the country of origin, where the garment was made. I have taken to filling in this category with random facts about the country in question. For instance, "The guillotine was last used in Vietnam in 1979." I imagine somewhere, someone with the boring job of collecting/analyzing these reports will notice, chuckle, and wait for the next tiny ray of sunshiny knowledge to come randomly each day.
If you want me to eat WHATEVER you cook, put it in a tortilla. Call it 'Liver Pate Soft Tacos with Onion Relish' or 'Bratwurst Balls Burritos with Yellow Mustard Drizzle.' No schizzle, I will clap and be merry.
Fear: That I am going blind. In the morning I see everything as though the room is filled with smoke. It takes about 10 minutes for the haze to clear. I am no longer allowed to drive without my glasses. Without them, I cannot make out the color of a stoplight. A few years ago, the woman at the BMV told me to read the fourth line and I told her I could barely make out the first line, and so restriction 'D' on my license represents my failing sight.
My sister in the wheelchair has lumps in her breast. The doctor has told her they are most likely precancerous cells and that she may already have developed breast cancer. They are doing several biopsies for different lumps. My sister started crying hysterically yesterday, understandably, because she is a grandmother now and why, why now, and what will happen to her children, and when will all of her continuous illnesses end, and why can't it be someone else for a change, and why does she even get up in the morning anymore, and who does she have to talk to, and why isn't there anything that can be done, and how will she survive chemotherapy with her compromised immune system, and why aren't any of us as angry as she is? There are no words.
Disgust: Our landlords have decided not to renew our lease. We must find a new apartment. My parents have told my brother and I (who are just us) that we can come with them for now. They have told my sister, her two sons, and their two girlfriends that they cannot come. They are why we lost our lease. They are five people. They pay nothing. We all know this. They are pissed! It isn't fair! In the meantime, none of them have looked for jobs nor have they actively sought an apartment. For years now, my sister in the wheelchair has told my other sister to apply for government housing because it's a long wait. Other Sister did not do so. Wheels (she calls herself that for all you PC people) pays $120 in rent. And her apartment is nice. Other Sister refused because it was beneath her to be on Welfare. Beneath her.
I cannot just jump in. To anything. If someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch with them in an hour, I will say no. An hour is not enough notice for me to change my routine of...doing nothing. I also cannot jump into a project. I wanted to start a quote journal. But I could not use one of the many, many journals I had. No, this one is for thoughts and feelings. This one is for reading notes. This one is a bibliography. This one is a 'random titles for stories' journal. I also cannot get up in the morning if it is 6:57 or 7:02. It must end in a 0 or a 5. It is limiting, each her own OCD, and disturbing.
Sadness: The cat. The cat is gone. Sometimes I come out of the shower and expect him to be lying on my clean clothes. But he is not there. I gave my mom a flash drive to transfer pictures from her computer and when she had them developed, she noticed I had pictures on it, too. So she developed them. She was really excited because one of them was a picture of me with the cat on my lap. Except it wasn't the cat. It was Cat Lady's cat. And that made both me and my mom sad. We yell at people about leaving the front door open, but there's no longer any reason; there's no cat trying to escape.
The man I'm in love with is married. I see him about twice a week, but not like that. It's a business relationship, strictly. I am awkward and geeky and he knows I'm in love with him (someone let it slip). He talks to me about his guitar and his pets and I talk to him about how Queen Elizabeth was once a truck driver. He is super handsome and brilliant. And taken.
Anger: A girl at work, who only works (on average) two days a week, has taken to pointing out when her statistics are better than someone else's. Especially if that other person is in management. Now look, I don't need to be the best. I'm not and never will be. It isn't that she congratulates herself or expresses relief that she has performed as expected. She will say, "Oh, look, my stats are way higher than yours. It seems like mine are always better than yours." At first we thought it was because she felt the need to compete with the manager she could have replaced if said manager had left earlier this year. But it has begun to leak to everyone. We try to throw it back at her whenever we're better than she is, but she has some magical ability to sell with minimal effort. We run up and down for people and they buy one shirt. She stands at the desk and her customers bring her twenty items they don't need to try on. It's driving us nuts.
I suffer from acne. Bad acne. I have gotten it under control recently but occasionally I still have breakouts and when I do, they are extensive and painful. Right now the weather is nice enough at times to be wearing sleeveless shirts. My back is riddled with bumps and scars. Sometimes it is covered in Band-Aids. When I try to talk to someone about being self-conscious, they try to show me the little bump they have on one of their shoulders, or the little, tiny blackhead they have on their nose, or the little, insignificant red mark they have that could turn into a pimple any day. It is like when a woman who is a size 20 talks to me about her muffin top. I have muffin top too, but I don't point that out to her. Because hers is a real problem, and I am a size 5, and while it is the one area of my body I consider 'fat,' I will not point out my
Happiness: I went on a trip to Seattle for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Conference. I went by myself! I had a nice hotel room to myself! My time revolved around my priorities and schedule! I went to some useless seminars! I made connections with an awesome book press! I walked around the big city! I spent over 40 hours in the airport or on a plane between my two flight days! I saw Frozen and Thor: The Dark World on the planes! When it said it was 35 degrees, it was actually 35 degrees! I visited the Space Needle! I didn't really have the money for this trip but it was a kind of 'now or never' moment in time. I'm glad I did it.
My niece had a baby girl! She is adorable. She has the roundest head ever on a child born into this world. Other people comment on the roundness of said child's head. She sleeps a lot. We try to take pictures of her with her eyes open, but she sleeps on, then we look away and she opens her eyes. Just as we notice and get ready for a picture, she closes them again. We tickle her and call her name and are extremely annoying, but she is persistent. It is a frustrating game of peek-a-boo. But it is also very cute.
Surprise: That there are people who consider leggings inappropriate. Maybe others feel they reveal too much of a girl's curves, or maybe there are girls who wear them too tight and create camel toe, or maybe some are a little too see-through, but if they are thicker or black or the only thing wrong is they frame a girl's butt and thighs and leave little to the imagination, I counter with the miniskirt. I recently read a fashion book where the author talked about what a revolution the miniskirt was for sexuality, but I have also read this person's disdain for leggings as inappropriate (as pants themselves). I just don't get it. To me, it's a clothing item that fits some bodies but not others, looks fine in some colors/patterns but not others, and is totally appropriate in some situations but not others.
That I enjoy having a budget. Because I have a new car payment, I have to pinch pennies a lot more than I previously have. I actually like putting change in a piggy bank. I like transferring my tiny amounts to my savings account whenever possible. I like seeing what my grown-up bills are and preparing for the month ahead. I think it is good for me to have limits. It's true that you enjoy things you feel you earn more than things that are free.
Randomness: At work, when we have a damaged item, we have to send a report to the home office. One of the blanks we have to fill in is "Country Description." What they mean is the country of origin, where the garment was made. I have taken to filling in this category with random facts about the country in question. For instance, "The guillotine was last used in Vietnam in 1979." I imagine somewhere, someone with the boring job of collecting/analyzing these reports will notice, chuckle, and wait for the next tiny ray of sunshiny knowledge to come randomly each day.
If you want me to eat WHATEVER you cook, put it in a tortilla. Call it 'Liver Pate Soft Tacos with Onion Relish' or 'Bratwurst Balls Burritos with Yellow Mustard Drizzle.' No schizzle, I will clap and be merry.
April 17, 2014
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I am mourning the death of one of the greatest authors in the history of literature. Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote my favorite short story, Light Is Like Water. It is only five pages long, but it is a masterpiece. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1982. I aspire to be as brilliant at weaving a narrative as he was. Rest in Peace.
April 15, 2014
And Also...
I wanted to add: I tried to say that when people expressed their negative opinion respectfully, that was fine. I didn't go into too much depth about that, and I'm tempted, soooooo tempted, to go back to make sure people understand that I was calling out the nastiness, not the disappointment, not the negative feelings. But I won't go back. Or should I? No, there's probably already ten new posts that will just make me angry. Repeat: It's not worth it. It's not worth it.
Strange Tempers
Got into a fight on Facebook. On a TV show's page. Why? Why do I feel the need to fight with strangers over stupid things? And I've decided to just not go back to see what else has been posted afterward, because it will just entice me to waste more precious time fighting with strangers. I got into this fight because people wanted bloodshed over a TV show. It was ridiculous. One particular lady was posting over and over and over, and I was finally fed up with her. Within one minute of my post, she responded, and so I responded to her, calling her out on forcing her opinion on everyone over and over. I can just see the next few posts now, stating that I had more than one post on there as well. And I went against the majority and so I'm going to get slaughtered. Whatever. I made it clear I don't live on Facebook (like this lady apparently does).
I feel like there is nowhere to go anymore to enjoy anything. There is nowhere to go where people like a TV show, singer, celebrity, etc. I wish that forums would divide their threads into "likes" and "dislikes" so that if you like a show, you can go into that thread and be happy, and if you don't like a show, you can go into that thread and rant. I don't like them mixed, because it invites these kinds of wars. I don't even care one iota about Justin Bieber, but I don't understand the people who stalk his videos just to talk about how stupid or evil he is. Get a life. Don't go on the Bieber webpage just to tell him off.
That's one of the things I hate about Facebook. I hate that people can come on and just post mean things and hide behind their "opinion." They call people out left and right. But DEAR LORD if you call them out. Or I fear posting something I enjoy on there, because I get made fun of enough for being immature or weird. I also don't want to deal with the people who would see something I post, or link to, and feel they have to tell me why they hate it. I don't care. Take your hate somewhere else.
But why did I feel the need to go on that TV show's page, LOG IN to Facebook, and yell at people? Why? Why couldn't I just say "I love this show" and move the fuck on? I totally attacked people. I think I felt the need to show them what they were doing to the person they were attacking on the show (it's a reality show). Calling for this person to never be on the show again (a person who has been on this show for ten years). Admitting that they have always loved this person until this ONE MOMENT and now they never want to see this person on TV again. Really? Ridiculous. Turn the channel. Get over it. I felt the NEED to say that. And now I will be attacked and it's a vicious cycle. An inescapable cycle anymore.
I feel like there is nowhere to go anymore to enjoy anything. There is nowhere to go where people like a TV show, singer, celebrity, etc. I wish that forums would divide their threads into "likes" and "dislikes" so that if you like a show, you can go into that thread and be happy, and if you don't like a show, you can go into that thread and rant. I don't like them mixed, because it invites these kinds of wars. I don't even care one iota about Justin Bieber, but I don't understand the people who stalk his videos just to talk about how stupid or evil he is. Get a life. Don't go on the Bieber webpage just to tell him off.
That's one of the things I hate about Facebook. I hate that people can come on and just post mean things and hide behind their "opinion." They call people out left and right. But DEAR LORD if you call them out. Or I fear posting something I enjoy on there, because I get made fun of enough for being immature or weird. I also don't want to deal with the people who would see something I post, or link to, and feel they have to tell me why they hate it. I don't care. Take your hate somewhere else.
But why did I feel the need to go on that TV show's page, LOG IN to Facebook, and yell at people? Why? Why couldn't I just say "I love this show" and move the fuck on? I totally attacked people. I think I felt the need to show them what they were doing to the person they were attacking on the show (it's a reality show). Calling for this person to never be on the show again (a person who has been on this show for ten years). Admitting that they have always loved this person until this ONE MOMENT and now they never want to see this person on TV again. Really? Ridiculous. Turn the channel. Get over it. I felt the NEED to say that. And now I will be attacked and it's a vicious cycle. An inescapable cycle anymore.
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