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."
Showing posts with label six emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label six emotions. Show all posts
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.
January 16, 2014
The Short, Short Version #7
Ending the year 2013:
Fear: My father wants to apply for a loan for a house through the Veteran's Association. He is convinced they will give him a $200,000 loan. Of course, no they won't, but that's beside the point. He keeps talking about how he wants to put the house in my name, so that if anything happens I will have a house. He talks about how he, my mother, and I will all live together and be happy. The fear comes from the fact that I don't want to live with my parents forever. But the last time I told him this, he started crying. We were in the car together and I was talking about saving up to find an apartment, and when I looked over at him he was wiping tears away from his face. He gets even more emotional now over little things. I will have to tell him. But how is he going to take it?
Disgust: On Christmas Eve, we opened presents as my youngest niece was not going to be with us for long enough on Christmas Day for the whole family to be together. It was fine. At somewhere around 4:00 p.m. my sister got a phone call from her boyfriend. They had to see each other because a day apart was JUST TOO MUCH. These are 30- and 40-year-olds. Anyway, the disgust comes from the fact that as soon as he came in, NO ONE ELSE MATTERED. Apparently, that's how it goes. My pregnant niece became upset, because this was supposed to be our family time. But my sister didn't care. She actually shoved my youngest niece off of her lap because she was in the boyfriend's way. Boyfriend and Sister sat cuddling on the couch, making lovey-dovey noises and other displays. When Boyfriend went to the bathroom, Sister Bear asked me if I thought he was cute, and when I said, "Sure," she got PISSED, and said, "You don't think he's cute. Fine." And thus the entire day was ruined.
Sadness: My father just wants to be part of it all again. When my mother plays games on Facebook, usually things like guessing a celebrity, song, or movie, and she gets stuck, he will search all over the internet trying to find the answer, usually going off of something she said that isn't even related to what she's trying to figure out. He is clearly sad when he thinks he's found her answer and she's either moved on or the clue he was using was completely irrelevant.
Anger: Fucking Janet got some chickens and she was supplying us with farm fresh eggs for $2 a carton. That was very fair. Well, not too long ago, while she was out to dinner with her husband, their dogs got into the chicken coop and killed about half their chickens. That was sad, so that's not the 'anger' part. So, Fucking Janet started going down the road to a neighbor's farm and asking him to supply us eggs in the mean time. Fine, or so we thought. They are NOT as good as Fucking Janet's eggs. They are, in fact, worse than store-bought eggs. That is not the 'anger' part. We (meaning my boss and I) approached Fucking Janet and told her that we would wait for her eggs from now on, as she had just gotten new chickens but they weren't producing right now. We said, "When you have enough for a carton to spare, we'll take turns buying your eggs." Fucking Janet got very upset at this. That is the 'anger' part. Not the fact that she was upset, but the fact that she was upset when we were telling her that her eggs were superior and that we were willing to wait for quality eggs. She just kept telling us we were being ridiculous. That we needed to get over it. And it's like, well, we don't have to buy eggs from him. Or YOU, Fucking Janet.
Happiness: Music. Music...makes the people...come together. / Music...makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel. A lot of my 'happiness' entries revolve around it. So it should come as no surprise that my favorite gift this Christmas was Garth Brooks's Blame It All On My Roots boxed set. I actually sat hugging it after I was done unwrapping my other presents. When I first heard about it, and some of the songs on it, I began hearing those songs in my head but in Garth's voice. Maggie May ceased to be sung by Rod Stewart. The whole set is, as could be predicted, wonderful and brilliant and exciting. Too bad Garth made his stupid deal with Walmart. I even suspect he will not license his songs to mix radio stations at all. That...is so disappointing.
Surprise: I'm one of those people. Who says, "When I was your age..." or, "Kids these days..." Where is that line? Is it an age we reach? Is it a technological advancement that puts distance between 'us' and 'them?' Is it because I constantly see five-year-olds playing with their iPhones while their parents blissfully ignore them? A former teenage employee of ours used to pretend to be my daughter because it could be true. Another teenage employee said, "Since computers weren't invented until, like, the '90s..." I just glared at her and shouted, "COMPUTERS WHERE INVENTED IN, LIKE, THE 1800s!" One of my first memories is ET at the drive-in. What are the comparable memories for the kids today? Anyway, technology marches on, and since I used to be someone who felt I was on the cutting edge of it (video game systems, etc.), it surprises me when I feel so left out, or insulted, or nostalgic, or old.
Randomness: I can't stand to watch HDTV. It...isn't natural. I'll be watching a TV show with my mom and sister, and I often have to turn away because I feel nauseated. They think I'm crazy. I'll say, "It moves like a soap opera." And they just stare at me. But I found out why! And I was right. Because soap operas use 48 frames per second, while TV shows before HDTV used only 24. Now, HDTV runs at a much higher frame rate than old TV shows (that's what the 1080p, 360p, etc. means on Youtube videos). It reminds me of when Tom and Jerry was directed by Gene Deitch and the animation was all fast, choppy, and weird. Those old cartoons were the stuff of nightmares.
Fear: My father wants to apply for a loan for a house through the Veteran's Association. He is convinced they will give him a $200,000 loan. Of course, no they won't, but that's beside the point. He keeps talking about how he wants to put the house in my name, so that if anything happens I will have a house. He talks about how he, my mother, and I will all live together and be happy. The fear comes from the fact that I don't want to live with my parents forever. But the last time I told him this, he started crying. We were in the car together and I was talking about saving up to find an apartment, and when I looked over at him he was wiping tears away from his face. He gets even more emotional now over little things. I will have to tell him. But how is he going to take it?
Disgust: On Christmas Eve, we opened presents as my youngest niece was not going to be with us for long enough on Christmas Day for the whole family to be together. It was fine. At somewhere around 4:00 p.m. my sister got a phone call from her boyfriend. They had to see each other because a day apart was JUST TOO MUCH. These are 30- and 40-year-olds. Anyway, the disgust comes from the fact that as soon as he came in, NO ONE ELSE MATTERED. Apparently, that's how it goes. My pregnant niece became upset, because this was supposed to be our family time. But my sister didn't care. She actually shoved my youngest niece off of her lap because she was in the boyfriend's way. Boyfriend and Sister sat cuddling on the couch, making lovey-dovey noises and other displays. When Boyfriend went to the bathroom, Sister Bear asked me if I thought he was cute, and when I said, "Sure," she got PISSED, and said, "You don't think he's cute. Fine." And thus the entire day was ruined.
Sadness: My father just wants to be part of it all again. When my mother plays games on Facebook, usually things like guessing a celebrity, song, or movie, and she gets stuck, he will search all over the internet trying to find the answer, usually going off of something she said that isn't even related to what she's trying to figure out. He is clearly sad when he thinks he's found her answer and she's either moved on or the clue he was using was completely irrelevant.
Anger: Fucking Janet got some chickens and she was supplying us with farm fresh eggs for $2 a carton. That was very fair. Well, not too long ago, while she was out to dinner with her husband, their dogs got into the chicken coop and killed about half their chickens. That was sad, so that's not the 'anger' part. So, Fucking Janet started going down the road to a neighbor's farm and asking him to supply us eggs in the mean time. Fine, or so we thought. They are NOT as good as Fucking Janet's eggs. They are, in fact, worse than store-bought eggs. That is not the 'anger' part. We (meaning my boss and I) approached Fucking Janet and told her that we would wait for her eggs from now on, as she had just gotten new chickens but they weren't producing right now. We said, "When you have enough for a carton to spare, we'll take turns buying your eggs." Fucking Janet got very upset at this. That is the 'anger' part. Not the fact that she was upset, but the fact that she was upset when we were telling her that her eggs were superior and that we were willing to wait for quality eggs. She just kept telling us we were being ridiculous. That we needed to get over it. And it's like, well, we don't have to buy eggs from him. Or YOU, Fucking Janet.
Happiness: Music. Music...makes the people...come together. / Music...makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel. A lot of my 'happiness' entries revolve around it. So it should come as no surprise that my favorite gift this Christmas was Garth Brooks's Blame It All On My Roots boxed set. I actually sat hugging it after I was done unwrapping my other presents. When I first heard about it, and some of the songs on it, I began hearing those songs in my head but in Garth's voice. Maggie May ceased to be sung by Rod Stewart. The whole set is, as could be predicted, wonderful and brilliant and exciting. Too bad Garth made his stupid deal with Walmart. I even suspect he will not license his songs to mix radio stations at all. That...is so disappointing.
Surprise: I'm one of those people. Who says, "When I was your age..." or, "Kids these days..." Where is that line? Is it an age we reach? Is it a technological advancement that puts distance between 'us' and 'them?' Is it because I constantly see five-year-olds playing with their iPhones while their parents blissfully ignore them? A former teenage employee of ours used to pretend to be my daughter because it could be true. Another teenage employee said, "Since computers weren't invented until, like, the '90s..." I just glared at her and shouted, "COMPUTERS WHERE INVENTED IN, LIKE, THE 1800s!" One of my first memories is ET at the drive-in. What are the comparable memories for the kids today? Anyway, technology marches on, and since I used to be someone who felt I was on the cutting edge of it (video game systems, etc.), it surprises me when I feel so left out, or insulted, or nostalgic, or old.
Randomness: I can't stand to watch HDTV. It...isn't natural. I'll be watching a TV show with my mom and sister, and I often have to turn away because I feel nauseated. They think I'm crazy. I'll say, "It moves like a soap opera." And they just stare at me. But I found out why! And I was right. Because soap operas use 48 frames per second, while TV shows before HDTV used only 24. Now, HDTV runs at a much higher frame rate than old TV shows (that's what the 1080p, 360p, etc. means on Youtube videos). It reminds me of when Tom and Jerry was directed by Gene Deitch and the animation was all fast, choppy, and weird. Those old cartoons were the stuff of nightmares.
December 19, 2013
The Short, Short Version #6 (Extended Edition)
For Weeks 11/18/13 - 12/14/13
Fear: I have been having heart palpitations lately. The other day at work, I was walking past the desk and suddenly felt a heavy thump in my chest, followed by a moment of confusion, nausea, and pain. Then I had a pressure headache for about an hour, accompanied by the nausea and a little dizziness. It has happened several times since then, usually when I'm doing nothing more than walking across a room.
My niece had a 3-D ultrasound done. In it, the baby appears to have a harelip. My niece's father had a harelip, so it is completely possible. The doctor told my niece he thought it was just a shadow, as everything else about the baby is developing fine, but it's something we're worried about.
Disgust: My niece's boyfriend, who was living with my sister and my niece and refused to get a job, decided that, because he didn't want to get said job, he no longer believed he was the father of my niece's baby. You know what, though? He is. He has lived with them since before the baby was conceived. Man up! So, long story short, he left.
Customers who tell us their life stories: how this one plans to have sex and that's why she doesn't need to worry about her bra straps showing; how that one needs red patent pumps and a leopard-print miniskirt because she wants to make her ex-husband jealous at his mother's funeral; how another one's boyfriend, twenty years her junior, needs therapy and tells us the three-hour story (I'm not kidding) of his life, from how his father treated him to how she met him, to how she got her dog, to how her cousin's brother-in-law's neighbor had a dog just like hers (seriously), to the dog she had when she was five, to what her father told her when she was five, etc.
Sadness: My body acne is back. I imagine how disgusted a man would be if he wanted to caress my shoulders and they aren't smooth but instead bumpy, bloody, and scarred. It is also physically painful, wearing a bra or moving in just the wrong way so something rubs against my skin. I've tried it all, too, to solve this problem, from antibiotics to antibacterial soap, to medicated lotion, to toothpaste, and beyond.
Watching my father try to open a package of deli-sliced ham. He just kept turning it round and round because my mother told him one corner was split so it would pull open, but he couldn't see which corner that was. Eventually my mother just took it and made his sandwiches herself.
Anger: D-I-V-O-R-C-E. It is ugly. UGLY. Neither my brother nor his wife are willing to compromise. My SIL is declaring she shouldn't be responsible for any of the debts accrued during their marriage, because during a marriage it is the man's place to make enough money to pay the bills, and that a woman shouldn't have to work if she doesn't want to, and that her money should be hers alone. I'm not even kidding, that's what she said. My brother is declaring he won't be celebrating Christmas AT ALL because he only gets his daughter from noon on Christmas Eve until 9:00 a.m. on Christmas Day, and that's not fair. Except, YES IT IS. We can be Germans for one day. It's nothing more than a made-up arbitrary day, for Christ's sake!
The Veteran's Association. A customer at work, who has a slight limp, told us he is getting 100% VA support, even though he has a job and is capable of providing for himself. My father gets 20%. Even though he had a stroke, is blind in one eye, has diabetes, and is incapable of getting a job at this time. The VA has told us they might consider my father for 60%. Another veteran, who was in the office at the VA clinic when my parents were there, told my mom he was also getting 100%. My mom asked him what was wrong, and he said, "Nothing."
Happiness: Surprise! One day at work, while I was ringing a customer, Dig that Crazy Santa Claus started playing. Maybe because I call in every year and complain about how depressing the Christmas music is, and how they need more upbeat songs, and how if I hear five versions of Last Christmas this time I might lose my shit. Or maybe they read this blog. If so, please fix the other issues I have written about. Meanwhile, every time the line "all the little hepcats jump for joy" plays I do just that.
Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto came on the radio the other day, and so I texted my friend just those words. She texted back with, "mata au hi made." Because she just knew.
Surprise: Out of the blue, a professor I had in my very first semester of college friended me on Facebook. We are going to dinner this weekend as he'll be around this area. I used to hang around his office and bug the crap out of him. Seems he didn't mind.
A woman I know has five daughters. She and her husband tried for a boy for years to no avail (well, to the avail of the three youngest daughters). Finally, they stopped trying, sold all of their baby stuff, and moved on. Yep, guess what? They decided not to find out the sex until the baby was delivered. It's a boy. He is about four months old now and I just got to see him for the first time. He...does not look like either of them. The daughters each look either exactly like their mother or exactly like their father (to uncanny levels). This boy...is a little round ball of surprise all around.
Randomness: On my days off, I have no concept of time. It can be 9:00 a.m and I will think, "I have the whole day!" The next minute it is 2:00 p.m. Several hours of reading blogs/using Pinterest/watching Youtube later I drag myself into the shower.
I am embarrassed for so-called "fangirls" and "fanboys." When I see the obsession-ridden way they waste hours of their lives debating whether Sephiroth or Ganandorf is the greatest video game villain of all time, or what the exact coordinates of Superman's fortress must be, or how it would be impossible for Star Wars and Star Trek to take place in the same universe because an actor who played an alien in the background of the first movie of the former also played an Admiral in the background of one episode of the TV series of the latter, I cry a little for them but then I shout, "Who cares?" Then I spend my time productively by reading a 100+ post discussion of the exact height of Tim Gunn.
Fear: I have been having heart palpitations lately. The other day at work, I was walking past the desk and suddenly felt a heavy thump in my chest, followed by a moment of confusion, nausea, and pain. Then I had a pressure headache for about an hour, accompanied by the nausea and a little dizziness. It has happened several times since then, usually when I'm doing nothing more than walking across a room.
My niece had a 3-D ultrasound done. In it, the baby appears to have a harelip. My niece's father had a harelip, so it is completely possible. The doctor told my niece he thought it was just a shadow, as everything else about the baby is developing fine, but it's something we're worried about.
Disgust: My niece's boyfriend, who was living with my sister and my niece and refused to get a job, decided that, because he didn't want to get said job, he no longer believed he was the father of my niece's baby. You know what, though? He is. He has lived with them since before the baby was conceived. Man up! So, long story short, he left.
Customers who tell us their life stories: how this one plans to have sex and that's why she doesn't need to worry about her bra straps showing; how that one needs red patent pumps and a leopard-print miniskirt because she wants to make her ex-husband jealous at his mother's funeral; how another one's boyfriend, twenty years her junior, needs therapy and tells us the three-hour story (I'm not kidding) of his life, from how his father treated him to how she met him, to how she got her dog, to how her cousin's brother-in-law's neighbor had a dog just like hers (seriously), to the dog she had when she was five, to what her father told her when she was five, etc.
Sadness: My body acne is back. I imagine how disgusted a man would be if he wanted to caress my shoulders and they aren't smooth but instead bumpy, bloody, and scarred. It is also physically painful, wearing a bra or moving in just the wrong way so something rubs against my skin. I've tried it all, too, to solve this problem, from antibiotics to antibacterial soap, to medicated lotion, to toothpaste, and beyond.
Watching my father try to open a package of deli-sliced ham. He just kept turning it round and round because my mother told him one corner was split so it would pull open, but he couldn't see which corner that was. Eventually my mother just took it and made his sandwiches herself.
Anger: D-I-V-O-R-C-E. It is ugly. UGLY. Neither my brother nor his wife are willing to compromise. My SIL is declaring she shouldn't be responsible for any of the debts accrued during their marriage, because during a marriage it is the man's place to make enough money to pay the bills, and that a woman shouldn't have to work if she doesn't want to, and that her money should be hers alone. I'm not even kidding, that's what she said. My brother is declaring he won't be celebrating Christmas AT ALL because he only gets his daughter from noon on Christmas Eve until 9:00 a.m. on Christmas Day, and that's not fair. Except, YES IT IS. We can be Germans for one day. It's nothing more than a made-up arbitrary day, for Christ's sake!
The Veteran's Association. A customer at work, who has a slight limp, told us he is getting 100% VA support, even though he has a job and is capable of providing for himself. My father gets 20%. Even though he had a stroke, is blind in one eye, has diabetes, and is incapable of getting a job at this time. The VA has told us they might consider my father for 60%. Another veteran, who was in the office at the VA clinic when my parents were there, told my mom he was also getting 100%. My mom asked him what was wrong, and he said, "Nothing."
Happiness: Surprise! One day at work, while I was ringing a customer, Dig that Crazy Santa Claus started playing. Maybe because I call in every year and complain about how depressing the Christmas music is, and how they need more upbeat songs, and how if I hear five versions of Last Christmas this time I might lose my shit. Or maybe they read this blog. If so, please fix the other issues I have written about. Meanwhile, every time the line "all the little hepcats jump for joy" plays I do just that.
Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto came on the radio the other day, and so I texted my friend just those words. She texted back with, "mata au hi made." Because she just knew.
Surprise: Out of the blue, a professor I had in my very first semester of college friended me on Facebook. We are going to dinner this weekend as he'll be around this area. I used to hang around his office and bug the crap out of him. Seems he didn't mind.
A woman I know has five daughters. She and her husband tried for a boy for years to no avail (well, to the avail of the three youngest daughters). Finally, they stopped trying, sold all of their baby stuff, and moved on. Yep, guess what? They decided not to find out the sex until the baby was delivered. It's a boy. He is about four months old now and I just got to see him for the first time. He...does not look like either of them. The daughters each look either exactly like their mother or exactly like their father (to uncanny levels). This boy...is a little round ball of surprise all around.
Randomness: On my days off, I have no concept of time. It can be 9:00 a.m and I will think, "I have the whole day!" The next minute it is 2:00 p.m. Several hours of reading blogs/using Pinterest/watching Youtube later I drag myself into the shower.
I am embarrassed for so-called "fangirls" and "fanboys." When I see the obsession-ridden way they waste hours of their lives debating whether Sephiroth or Ganandorf is the greatest video game villain of all time, or what the exact coordinates of Superman's fortress must be, or how it would be impossible for Star Wars and Star Trek to take place in the same universe because an actor who played an alien in the background of the first movie of the former also played an Admiral in the background of one episode of the TV series of the latter, I cry a little for them but then I shout, "Who cares?" Then I spend my time productively by reading a 100+ post discussion of the exact height of Tim Gunn.
November 18, 2013
The Short, Short Version #5
Week Ending 11/17/2013
Fear: The electrical sockets have been shorting out and sparking lately, and I live with people stupid enough to say, out loud, "If it hasn't caught fire yet, it won't."
Disgust: Several members of my family play an interesting musical instrument called the Hacking Cough Bagpipes. These are instruments grown in the pectoral area, and notes are produced by smoking, living in filth, running around outside in the snow with no shirt, and hysterical overreactions to daily events. Pitch and force are determined by size, vocal structure, and body strength. It is amazing to hear the symphony at night.
Sadness: Another year, another Christmas CD at work with no Dig that Crazy Santa Claus.
Anger: The vet. I could not get a hold of the vet for almost two weeks, and when I left a message that she didn't get for days, she told me to make sure next time to leave a message with a real person. I told her several times that I called over and over, and no one picked up, and so how was I supposed to do so? Her response was just, well, keep calling. And I was like, no, this isn't my fault. Then she told me to e-mail her, because she would definitely get that, and so I did, and she claimed she didn't see it for, like, 36 hours.
Happiness: "IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER / IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT / RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVAL / AND THE LAST KNOWN SURVIVOR STALKS HIS PREY IN THE NIGHT / AND HE'S WATCHING US ALL WITH THE EYE...OF THE TIGER!" Sung as loudly as that in the car when it came on and I was able to hear the WHOLE song.
Surprise: I have outgrown skulls, horror, goth, etc. I still gravitate toward punk rock looks, but more sophisticated. I am disappointed in half of my wardrobe. I need to be more picky and yet more open-minded, because lately clothes I would have rolled my eyes at five years ago are super flattering and adorable.
Randomness: In the Zombie Apocalypse, I will be the first to go. Babies bite me whenever I pick them up, and children and even grown, random adults have told me how good I smell. I have had customers lean in to smell me, or pet me, or play with my hair. I am frequently asked what my perfume is, and when I say I'm not wearing perfume, there is a glint, a gleam, as they imagine how delicious I am.
Fear: The electrical sockets have been shorting out and sparking lately, and I live with people stupid enough to say, out loud, "If it hasn't caught fire yet, it won't."
Disgust: Several members of my family play an interesting musical instrument called the Hacking Cough Bagpipes. These are instruments grown in the pectoral area, and notes are produced by smoking, living in filth, running around outside in the snow with no shirt, and hysterical overreactions to daily events. Pitch and force are determined by size, vocal structure, and body strength. It is amazing to hear the symphony at night.
Sadness: Another year, another Christmas CD at work with no Dig that Crazy Santa Claus.
Anger: The vet. I could not get a hold of the vet for almost two weeks, and when I left a message that she didn't get for days, she told me to make sure next time to leave a message with a real person. I told her several times that I called over and over, and no one picked up, and so how was I supposed to do so? Her response was just, well, keep calling. And I was like, no, this isn't my fault. Then she told me to e-mail her, because she would definitely get that, and so I did, and she claimed she didn't see it for, like, 36 hours.
Happiness: "IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER / IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT / RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVAL / AND THE LAST KNOWN SURVIVOR STALKS HIS PREY IN THE NIGHT / AND HE'S WATCHING US ALL WITH THE EYE...OF THE TIGER!" Sung as loudly as that in the car when it came on and I was able to hear the WHOLE song.
Surprise: I have outgrown skulls, horror, goth, etc. I still gravitate toward punk rock looks, but more sophisticated. I am disappointed in half of my wardrobe. I need to be more picky and yet more open-minded, because lately clothes I would have rolled my eyes at five years ago are super flattering and adorable.
Randomness: In the Zombie Apocalypse, I will be the first to go. Babies bite me whenever I pick them up, and children and even grown, random adults have told me how good I smell. I have had customers lean in to smell me, or pet me, or play with my hair. I am frequently asked what my perfume is, and when I say I'm not wearing perfume, there is a glint, a gleam, as they imagine how delicious I am.
November 12, 2013
The Short, Short Version #4
Week Ending 11/10/2013
Fear: I have made friends with a customer from my work. She gives me presents now for Christmas. Now, I have to be worried that this might be conceived of as "tipping" and that I could be reprimanded/fired over it. But, I wonder, if my friends from before I worked at this job came in and shopped, would they have to stop giving me Christmas presents because now, technically, they are customers? It's such a fine line.
Disgust: If you are a size XS/0 and a shirt fits "tight," and you tell me you wish you could put it on a fat girl so it would stretch out and fit you, I will be mentally punching you.
Sadness: My step-niece, who was still bringing her baby over for us to see, has stopped doing so. It is both my mother's fault and her mother's fault (my sister-in-law). My mother won't stop grilling her with questions about where her mother is living, and her mother doesn't think she needs any other family.
Anger: Long ago my boss forced a woman (whom I LOVED) to quit because this woman was requesting too many days off a month. She told her she couldn't have set days and that she couldn't "dictate" her own schedule. Cut to two years later, where two girls just got hired with the promise of set days and they are already requesting off here, there, everywhere.
Happiness: I finally got a letter where a customer called in to the company and gave me a compliment. Everyone else at work, even teenage girls who have only worked there for, like, a week, have gotten letters. But not me. In eight years. Even though my manager has told me before that absolutely no one receives more compliments (by word of mouth) than I do. Sometimes it's nice to get that little extra validation.
Surprise: There is a man who comes into my work to buy women's jeans. At first he told us they were for his wife, but eventually he admitted they were for him. Men's jeans don't fit him. He is...interesting. But I applaud a man who can admit what he needs and not be ashamed. Now, he comes in, chats us up, calls us Darling, but he is clearly not a homosexual. This is an important fact, because I think it is up to everyone to break down gender barriers.
Randomness: I will criticize the lyrics of your songs, singers. Make sure none of them are a stupid as "I bet you think this song is about you" or "But who cares? She walks like Rihanna!"
P.S. - There were a lot of issues with work this week!
Fear: I have made friends with a customer from my work. She gives me presents now for Christmas. Now, I have to be worried that this might be conceived of as "tipping" and that I could be reprimanded/fired over it. But, I wonder, if my friends from before I worked at this job came in and shopped, would they have to stop giving me Christmas presents because now, technically, they are customers? It's such a fine line.
Disgust: If you are a size XS/0 and a shirt fits "tight," and you tell me you wish you could put it on a fat girl so it would stretch out and fit you, I will be mentally punching you.
Sadness: My step-niece, who was still bringing her baby over for us to see, has stopped doing so. It is both my mother's fault and her mother's fault (my sister-in-law). My mother won't stop grilling her with questions about where her mother is living, and her mother doesn't think she needs any other family.
Anger: Long ago my boss forced a woman (whom I LOVED) to quit because this woman was requesting too many days off a month. She told her she couldn't have set days and that she couldn't "dictate" her own schedule. Cut to two years later, where two girls just got hired with the promise of set days and they are already requesting off here, there, everywhere.
Happiness: I finally got a letter where a customer called in to the company and gave me a compliment. Everyone else at work, even teenage girls who have only worked there for, like, a week, have gotten letters. But not me. In eight years. Even though my manager has told me before that absolutely no one receives more compliments (by word of mouth) than I do. Sometimes it's nice to get that little extra validation.
Surprise: There is a man who comes into my work to buy women's jeans. At first he told us they were for his wife, but eventually he admitted they were for him. Men's jeans don't fit him. He is...interesting. But I applaud a man who can admit what he needs and not be ashamed. Now, he comes in, chats us up, calls us Darling, but he is clearly not a homosexual. This is an important fact, because I think it is up to everyone to break down gender barriers.
Randomness: I will criticize the lyrics of your songs, singers. Make sure none of them are a stupid as "I bet you think this song is about you" or "But who cares? She walks like Rihanna!"
P.S. - There were a lot of issues with work this week!
November 4, 2013
The Short, Short Version #3
Week Ending 11/3/2013
Fear: I have a tiny chip in one of my front teeth. It is also slightly stained, so that when I look in the mirror I constantly worry it is a cavity and that, like my mother and sisters before me, I will someday be a toothless hillbilly. This week, something got caught in the chip and made it look THAT MUCH worse and I freaked out and almost started crying in the bathroom at work. Then I ran my tongue over it and it went back 'normal'.
Disgust: I don't want to see pictures of the boil on your ass, Brother.
Sadness: My father used to surprise me at work with a chicken sandwich and an orange float from Wendy's, usually on Sundays. Last Sunday, when I was kinda hungry and we were busy and I wasn't sure when I'd get to run out for lunch, I started wishing he would show up again. But...he won't. Possibly ever again. Because he's blind in one eye now and he can't drive and it's sad, the little things I never thought would come to an end.
Anger: A few years ago, my brother found a camera in the park and turned it into the police. No one claimed it and so they let my brother keep it. He found out it was worth around $2000. It was the find of a lifetime. He loved that camera. He had hundreds of pictures on it. This week, he set it down on a table in our living room and - POOF! - it was gone. Of course we can't prove who stole it, but it's obvious and frustrating and after everything he's going through right now it just broke his heart.
Happiness: We got an extra discount on ONE sweater this week and I hemmed and hawed over what sweater to buy, because I'm not much of a sweater girl. I decided to buy this long black cardigan with a long printed lapel. It is the BEST DECISION EVER. Warm, comfortable, and I feel like Janis Joplin. Now, Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
Surprise: I found out on Facebook that some friends of mine had a second child. Like, he's a year-and-a-half or something. Am I that dysfunctional? Maybe...I should look into some therapy for my extreme anti-social behavioral issues.
Randomness: I can't tell whether cars coming at me have their high beams on. I also can't tell whether they're flashing their lights at me. It is all so bright and every time they hit bumps it looks like the lights are flashing and I begin wondering what's wrong with my car and when I'm going to blow up.
Fear: I have a tiny chip in one of my front teeth. It is also slightly stained, so that when I look in the mirror I constantly worry it is a cavity and that, like my mother and sisters before me, I will someday be a toothless hillbilly. This week, something got caught in the chip and made it look THAT MUCH worse and I freaked out and almost started crying in the bathroom at work. Then I ran my tongue over it and it went back 'normal'.
Disgust: I don't want to see pictures of the boil on your ass, Brother.
Sadness: My father used to surprise me at work with a chicken sandwich and an orange float from Wendy's, usually on Sundays. Last Sunday, when I was kinda hungry and we were busy and I wasn't sure when I'd get to run out for lunch, I started wishing he would show up again. But...he won't. Possibly ever again. Because he's blind in one eye now and he can't drive and it's sad, the little things I never thought would come to an end.
Anger: A few years ago, my brother found a camera in the park and turned it into the police. No one claimed it and so they let my brother keep it. He found out it was worth around $2000. It was the find of a lifetime. He loved that camera. He had hundreds of pictures on it. This week, he set it down on a table in our living room and - POOF! - it was gone. Of course we can't prove who stole it, but it's obvious and frustrating and after everything he's going through right now it just broke his heart.
Happiness: We got an extra discount on ONE sweater this week and I hemmed and hawed over what sweater to buy, because I'm not much of a sweater girl. I decided to buy this long black cardigan with a long printed lapel. It is the BEST DECISION EVER. Warm, comfortable, and I feel like Janis Joplin. Now, Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
Surprise: I found out on Facebook that some friends of mine had a second child. Like, he's a year-and-a-half or something. Am I that dysfunctional? Maybe...I should look into some therapy for my extreme anti-social behavioral issues.
Randomness: I can't tell whether cars coming at me have their high beams on. I also can't tell whether they're flashing their lights at me. It is all so bright and every time they hit bumps it looks like the lights are flashing and I begin wondering what's wrong with my car and when I'm going to blow up.
October 28, 2013
The Short, Short Version #2
Week ending 10/27/2013.
Fear: I can't sleep between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. Why? Night Terrors. Often, outright hallucinations, usually about clothing, towels, and curtains. Patterns turn into faces, people in pictures move, a crumpled pair of jeans is really a demon. The truth is, for that hour, I watch the clock like a fucking maniac, because at 5:00 I will be safe again. Nothing can get me at 5:00 a.m.
Disgust: A frequent customer (who...does not have a rockin' body) came out of the fitting room on Tuesday wearing only her sweatshirt, her underwear, and a pair of cowboy boots she was trying on. She wanted to try other sizes in the boots. So she bent over to read box sizes and exchange between the sizes. Pink granny panties, FYI.
Sadness: A teenager called me middle-aged. She was talking to me and two other ladies. We are 34, 31, and 49 years old. The teenager was talking about technology, and said, "Middle-aged people like you all just didn't grow up with it like we did." I...don't want to be one of those women who can't face her age, but sometimes reminders creep up on me that I'm not exactly young anymore and that I need to get going with my life.
Anger: I have a plane ticket from Seattle to home. Not one from home to Seattle, though. Because at the time when I had just enough money for one ticket, the flights there numbered twenty and the flights back numbered five. I thought, I'd better secure a seat on one of those five planes and I'll have the money for one of the outgoing planes soon. Nope! That was June. Every time I have the money something happens. Is it a sign? I've never been on a vacation, not really, especially one on my own. I want this so badly.
Happiness: A real phone! With texting! I was tired of all these people around me, who have no jobs, who steal and sell other people's possessions for drug money, having phones worth hundreds of dollars while I had a five-year-old flip phone. So, I sucked it up and got a Smartphone. It isn't the greatest one out there, but it will do and it will do everything theirs will do without the hefty $600 or so price. How do they even get these phones? Whatever, it doesn't matter because now I have a real phone, too!
Surprise: The cat lady asked me to babysit her cats again while she's on vacation for a week. She pays well. This is at a time when I'm a little stretched, monetarily, and her offer was just amazing timing. She...always seems to make these offers at the exact time I need a little extra cash. It gives me pause.
Random Fact: If you want to kill me, lock me in a room with only canned food and an electric can opener. I do not understand how to work them. My mother once threw away all the manual can openers and that night we had to go buy a new one so I could open cans when no one else was home.
Fear: I can't sleep between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. Why? Night Terrors. Often, outright hallucinations, usually about clothing, towels, and curtains. Patterns turn into faces, people in pictures move, a crumpled pair of jeans is really a demon. The truth is, for that hour, I watch the clock like a fucking maniac, because at 5:00 I will be safe again. Nothing can get me at 5:00 a.m.
Disgust: A frequent customer (who...does not have a rockin' body) came out of the fitting room on Tuesday wearing only her sweatshirt, her underwear, and a pair of cowboy boots she was trying on. She wanted to try other sizes in the boots. So she bent over to read box sizes and exchange between the sizes. Pink granny panties, FYI.
Sadness: A teenager called me middle-aged. She was talking to me and two other ladies. We are 34, 31, and 49 years old. The teenager was talking about technology, and said, "Middle-aged people like you all just didn't grow up with it like we did." I...don't want to be one of those women who can't face her age, but sometimes reminders creep up on me that I'm not exactly young anymore and that I need to get going with my life.
Anger: I have a plane ticket from Seattle to home. Not one from home to Seattle, though. Because at the time when I had just enough money for one ticket, the flights there numbered twenty and the flights back numbered five. I thought, I'd better secure a seat on one of those five planes and I'll have the money for one of the outgoing planes soon. Nope! That was June. Every time I have the money something happens. Is it a sign? I've never been on a vacation, not really, especially one on my own. I want this so badly.
Happiness: A real phone! With texting! I was tired of all these people around me, who have no jobs, who steal and sell other people's possessions for drug money, having phones worth hundreds of dollars while I had a five-year-old flip phone. So, I sucked it up and got a Smartphone. It isn't the greatest one out there, but it will do and it will do everything theirs will do without the hefty $600 or so price. How do they even get these phones? Whatever, it doesn't matter because now I have a real phone, too!
Surprise: The cat lady asked me to babysit her cats again while she's on vacation for a week. She pays well. This is at a time when I'm a little stretched, monetarily, and her offer was just amazing timing. She...always seems to make these offers at the exact time I need a little extra cash. It gives me pause.
Random Fact: If you want to kill me, lock me in a room with only canned food and an electric can opener. I do not understand how to work them. My mother once threw away all the manual can openers and that night we had to go buy a new one so I could open cans when no one else was home.
October 24, 2013
The Short, Short Version #1
Week ending 10/20/2013.
Yes, I end weeks on Sunday. Because Sunday is the last day of the week, not the first.
Fear: My father ran into a wall on Saturday and cut his head open. There were times on Sunday where we would ask him a question and he would just stare at us for a minute or so, then finally answer. I told my mom he could have a concussion, or even have brought on another stroke somehow. Did she take him to the ER? Nope. She let him sleep, a lot, for the next few days. Sleep.
Disgust: My nephew and my sister often don't flush the toilet. After doing #2. Because they do #2 before taking a shower, and they can't wait the thirty seconds it will take for the commode to stop interfering with the water. I imagine them jumping - leaping - from the toilet to the shower because they can't lose thirty seconds. Then they forget they did #2, and whoever goes in next has to take care of that.
Sadness: I cried and cried the day I thought for certain we were finally going to have to take the cat the Humane Society. After going for over a week without peeing on the steps, he suddenly peed on every one of them. Thursday morning I got up and bawled in the recliner, clutching the cat, and it was an ugly, snotty, hitching, long sobbing session. But he's still here.
Anger: So, I'm a homebody. I like to read, write, play video games, surf the net, etc. I'm quiet and introverted and that's what I enjoy and what boils my blood is when people make snide comments about my hobbies. The other day, Fucking Janet was talking to a friend of hers who had made a cute scarf after seeing how-to on Pinterest. So Fucking Janet asked me, "Don't you go on Pinterest?" Yes. So she said, "Well, I don't have time to just sit in front of my computer doing nothing." I told her lots of people do it from their phone and that a friend of ours who has three jobs is on there way more than I am. Janet just rolled her eyes and asked who has time to do nothing like that? Then later, our boss and her boss told Janet they go on Pinterest, and guess who asked me to help her set up an account and who denied that she ever made fun of it when I called her out on being two-faced?
Happiness: (There was a long, depressing silence as I thought hard about this.) The cat is still here. (Another pause as I decide there must be something else.) (Oh!) I finally bought the dry erase board / cork board combo I've been wanting at the local department store. I have monthly, weekly, and daily goals. One monthly goal is reading at least 5 books (it is thusly underlined on the dry erase board). Weekly goals include writing so many pages, reading the Profile in the New Yorker, summarizing reading notes in my journal. A particular daily goal is making sure I log into Facebook. Once.
Surprise: My eighteen-year-old niece wants a sex-change operation. That's fine by me, whatever makes her comfortable in her own skin. But, if you are going to reinvent yourself, and you can choose any name in the world, why...Brandon?
Yes, I end weeks on Sunday. Because Sunday is the last day of the week, not the first.
Fear: My father ran into a wall on Saturday and cut his head open. There were times on Sunday where we would ask him a question and he would just stare at us for a minute or so, then finally answer. I told my mom he could have a concussion, or even have brought on another stroke somehow. Did she take him to the ER? Nope. She let him sleep, a lot, for the next few days. Sleep.
Disgust: My nephew and my sister often don't flush the toilet. After doing #2. Because they do #2 before taking a shower, and they can't wait the thirty seconds it will take for the commode to stop interfering with the water. I imagine them jumping - leaping - from the toilet to the shower because they can't lose thirty seconds. Then they forget they did #2, and whoever goes in next has to take care of that.
Sadness: I cried and cried the day I thought for certain we were finally going to have to take the cat the Humane Society. After going for over a week without peeing on the steps, he suddenly peed on every one of them. Thursday morning I got up and bawled in the recliner, clutching the cat, and it was an ugly, snotty, hitching, long sobbing session. But he's still here.
Anger: So, I'm a homebody. I like to read, write, play video games, surf the net, etc. I'm quiet and introverted and that's what I enjoy and what boils my blood is when people make snide comments about my hobbies. The other day, Fucking Janet was talking to a friend of hers who had made a cute scarf after seeing how-to on Pinterest. So Fucking Janet asked me, "Don't you go on Pinterest?" Yes. So she said, "Well, I don't have time to just sit in front of my computer doing nothing." I told her lots of people do it from their phone and that a friend of ours who has three jobs is on there way more than I am. Janet just rolled her eyes and asked who has time to do nothing like that? Then later, our boss and her boss told Janet they go on Pinterest, and guess who asked me to help her set up an account and who denied that she ever made fun of it when I called her out on being two-faced?
Happiness: (There was a long, depressing silence as I thought hard about this.) The cat is still here. (Another pause as I decide there must be something else.) (Oh!) I finally bought the dry erase board / cork board combo I've been wanting at the local department store. I have monthly, weekly, and daily goals. One monthly goal is reading at least 5 books (it is thusly underlined on the dry erase board). Weekly goals include writing so many pages, reading the Profile in the New Yorker, summarizing reading notes in my journal. A particular daily goal is making sure I log into Facebook. Once.
Surprise: My eighteen-year-old niece wants a sex-change operation. That's fine by me, whatever makes her comfortable in her own skin. But, if you are going to reinvent yourself, and you can choose any name in the world, why...Brandon?
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