I'm a linguist. I notice patterns of speech and I understand that people have manners of speaking which reflect the way they think. I try to be patient when someone says fifteen sentences with barely a breath or a pause. I try to be patient when people speak really, really slowly because their brains have to think about each word they're saying. I try to be patient with dialect, accent, and odd stresses. This is why my biggest pet peeve on the face of the Earth is interruption.
Interrupting someone frustrates that person. It can often confuse that person. I know it isn't always easy to be patient when a person takes two minutes to make a statement she could have said in thirty seconds. I know we don't always have two minutes to spare. But maybe that person can't complete a thought in thirty seconds. Maybe that person has trouble speaking. The fact is it doesn't matter. It's a sad world when we can't take the time to just listen to another human being and be patient.
I get frustrated almost to the point of tears at the smallest interruption. I have trouble finishing a sentence and often I pause where it feels like an ending is coming to think about how I'm going to end. A lot of people try to finish the sentence for me. I try, really hard, to understand that I've paused and they think it's okay to speak but I obviously didn't complete my thought because they feel they must complete it for me. Please don't. Often, nine times out of ten, I will follow up their suggestion with, "No, that's not what I was going to say." Nine times out of those nine times, they follow it up with another suggestion. Usually I get really quiet at this point and I kind of stare at them, not even answering whether they got it right this time. Nine times out of those nine times, the second suggestion is equally wrong. What I do is stay quiet, then when I've finally worked out how to word the ending how I wanted to I just state said ending and walk away.
Please don't try to offer a word when I'm struggling for the right word. Don't begin to bark seemingly related words at me. I see this often in my job, not just with myself. A customer will come in, need something like a shawl and be trying to describe a shawl, and it will go something like this:
Customer: I have a dress with spaghetti straps...
Coworker: So you need a sweater to go over it?
Customer: Not a sweater, but my arms are bare and I was thinking...
Coworker: More like a shrug? A really short one like this? What color?
Customer: (becoming frustrated) I don't want that either.
Coworker: So you want like a jacket?
Customer: (firmly) No.
But you know, at this point I would have walked out. I get a bit of flack from my fellow workers because when a customer is struggling to describe what she needs, I just let her struggle. I usually give a person about fifteen seconds to come up with a word she can't think of before I make one suggestion. If that isn't the right suggestion, I ask her one question. A good deal of the time the question acts as a trigger. If it doesn't I change the subject, but keep the subject related to the customer's needs. It has always worked out in the end.
When a person interrupts me to ask a question that would have been answered had she waited until I was finished speaking, I get extremely angry. I get short with that person. This happened today with a coworker, and right now I'm typing this through a splitting headache because the more this person did things like that the more visibly frustrated I became with her. She eventually confronted me, and when I expressed my feelings she said something like, "Well now I know you don't like being interrupted," which isn't an apology. Then she acted upset with me so I asked her if she was. She said she felt I had been condescending toward her. And I said I didn't mean to be but I didn't apologize and the really, really childish part is that I didn't apologize because she didn't either. Part of me feels really bad but part of me, the part that came home and bawled into my pillow, feels like her behavior isn't going to change, or like she's saying my frustration is my own problem.
I've tried to talk about this before with other coworkers and the consensus seems to be that interrupting is a common behavior and so I just need to deal with it. When I got written up earlier this year for correcting someone's grammar, I was told I had made that girl feel stupid. Correcting someone's grammar isn't a common behavior because it's how "smart" people try to show how smart they are and how stupid other people are. How this whole situation makes me feel is that it's okay to hurt my feelings. It's okay to make me frustrated. It's okay because it's me.
The funny thing is that I only corrected someone's grammar once. I did it because she was writing on a piece of paper the rest of the staff would see, and we were alone and it was an easy fix, and so I told her how to fix it so no one else would ever know she had used the wrong word. When I was told it hurt her feelings, I never corrected someone's grammar again. Not even in private. I respected her feelings. It's all I want out of everyone else.
When my coworker confronted me, I got really nervous because I knew I was going to have to tell her how she had upset me. And I knew she wasn't going to care how I felt. I almost started crying right there and I tried to tell her it was nothing, but she kept asking until I finally told her. The rest of the day was just awkward.
I've been asking myself over and over if it was all my fault. There was an earlier incident where she said I was curt with her, and maybe I was, and maybe that was a big misunderstanding and the interruptions just compounded the whole situation, but the interruptions are a daily thing from multiple people and so that part was not me just being overly sensitive. I would have apologized for the earlier incident had she apologized for the interruptions. (How "I know you are but what am I" was that whole sentence?)
But all-in-all I think it's a problem with the world right now. I think interrupting others is a form of saying, "My thought's more important than yours," or "You haven't given me all the information I need in the first five words." I often get short when I say five words like, "I was in the backroom..." and the other person says, "What were you doing back there?" but they don't say it like they're eager for the next part but like they missed where I said what I was doing back there. "What were you doing?" And I bite my lip and sometimes I say, "I haven't even begun the story yet." And they get upset. And then I feel bad. Except, you know, I shouldn't.
I just spent the last two hours venting into this little white screen. I know I'll feel better that I got it out somewhere. This all goes back to wanting people to listen to each other. I feel like this is sorely lacking in the world. Sometimes I wonder if I'm holding people to too high a standard. Or if I'm just a raging bitch and their behaviors are just fine. I don't know. I don't know.
January 22, 2011
January 21, 2011
Dream-Eating
Another "If I had the money to..." post:
If I had the money to buy any kind of food, some things I would buy:
Wasabi-flavored mayonnaise
Flavored creamer that is actually cream and is kept in the fridge
Flavored coffee, so the creamer and the coffee blend uniquely
Good salad ingredients, which means no iceberg lettuce (disgusting):
fresh mushrooms
kapers!
olives
crumbly cheeses
a variety of salad dressings
Multiple choices of drinks (not just one drink for three days, then another for three days, etc.):
vegetable juice
chocolate milk
juice smoothies
Fresh fruit:
strawberries
plums!
blackberries!
pineapple
kiwi (though in small doses due to mild allergy)
fresh vegetables:
asparagus
squash
To be continued when I get back from work....
If I had the money to buy any kind of food, some things I would buy:
Wasabi-flavored mayonnaise
Flavored creamer that is actually cream and is kept in the fridge
Flavored coffee, so the creamer and the coffee blend uniquely
Good salad ingredients, which means no iceberg lettuce (disgusting):
fresh mushrooms
kapers!
olives
crumbly cheeses
a variety of salad dressings
Multiple choices of drinks (not just one drink for three days, then another for three days, etc.):
vegetable juice
chocolate milk
juice smoothies
Fresh fruit:
strawberries
plums!
blackberries!
pineapple
kiwi (though in small doses due to mild allergy)
fresh vegetables:
asparagus
squash
To be continued when I get back from work....
January 17, 2011
I'm a Dork
Why do I get so riled up about stupid things? I joined Goodreads not too long ago and I reviewed about five books and one of them, of course, was Self-Editing for Fiction Writers because I believe people should know about the abomination that is this book.
I got a reply. And if the reply had stuck to saying how he/she felt the book was helpful because of X,Y, and Z, it would have been fine and I would have said, "That's cool." But instead, it was a well-worded attack on my character. Basically, the replier told a story about a girl in a writing workshop who wouldn't listen to anyone's criticisms because she felt she was too brilliant to follow the rules. Then the replier went on to explain why real writers can "violate" the rules and why too much mediocre writing comes from people who feel that following the rules is somehow in opposition to being brilliant.
So I replied. With a long-winded explanation of why I hate THIS BOOK SPECIFICALLY. I listed other "on writing" books I admire and why I admire them and why THIS BOOK, in my opinion, is perpetuating mediocre writing. I also told the replier that I didn't appreciate her insinuation that I was a brat who didn't want to learn the rules and who just wanted people to think I'm brilliant. I didn't appreciate her comment being an attack on my character based on a book I didn't like that she did. (I'm assuming here the person was a female; I don't know honestly.) I invited her to try to change my mind about THIS BOOK.
The problem with my original review is that I made the mistake of saying that you can't put a prescription on artistic endeavors. I stood by that in my reply, but I explained that while I understand there must be rules we follow in order to separate good writing from bad writing, that doesn't mean it has to be prescriptive and in fact just shouldn't be. "Rules" can be presented in a subjective manner. What Self-Editing for Fiction Writers does is offer objective prescriptions of rules authors should follow if they want to be published. That has nothing to do with brilliance whatsoever. That has nothing to do with producing original or even good writing. It has everything to do with producing writing where these publishers can check boxes off of a list to make sure the writing they're publishing follows their rules. This leads to a homogenization of writing styles and techniques - and you know I feel I'm already seeing this in anthologies like The Best American Short Stories.
And what really upsets me is they basically say that if books like The Great Gatsby had come across their desks they wouldn't have published it as is. Well, and you would have been fools. Milton wrote a second poem after Paradise Lost. It is called Paradise Regained. It's written perfectly and was critically acclaimed during its day. Guess what? No one remembers that second poem. It is often flaws that elevate art to a higher level. It is often mistakes and experiments that lead to a new genre or style. We need something to debate or what is the purpose of talking about a piece of art for more than a year or two?
I should just freaking stay away from commenting and reviewing and what-have-you. I don't know why I take it all so personally.
I got a reply. And if the reply had stuck to saying how he/she felt the book was helpful because of X,Y, and Z, it would have been fine and I would have said, "That's cool." But instead, it was a well-worded attack on my character. Basically, the replier told a story about a girl in a writing workshop who wouldn't listen to anyone's criticisms because she felt she was too brilliant to follow the rules. Then the replier went on to explain why real writers can "violate" the rules and why too much mediocre writing comes from people who feel that following the rules is somehow in opposition to being brilliant.
So I replied. With a long-winded explanation of why I hate THIS BOOK SPECIFICALLY. I listed other "on writing" books I admire and why I admire them and why THIS BOOK, in my opinion, is perpetuating mediocre writing. I also told the replier that I didn't appreciate her insinuation that I was a brat who didn't want to learn the rules and who just wanted people to think I'm brilliant. I didn't appreciate her comment being an attack on my character based on a book I didn't like that she did. (I'm assuming here the person was a female; I don't know honestly.) I invited her to try to change my mind about THIS BOOK.
The problem with my original review is that I made the mistake of saying that you can't put a prescription on artistic endeavors. I stood by that in my reply, but I explained that while I understand there must be rules we follow in order to separate good writing from bad writing, that doesn't mean it has to be prescriptive and in fact just shouldn't be. "Rules" can be presented in a subjective manner. What Self-Editing for Fiction Writers does is offer objective prescriptions of rules authors should follow if they want to be published. That has nothing to do with brilliance whatsoever. That has nothing to do with producing original or even good writing. It has everything to do with producing writing where these publishers can check boxes off of a list to make sure the writing they're publishing follows their rules. This leads to a homogenization of writing styles and techniques - and you know I feel I'm already seeing this in anthologies like The Best American Short Stories.
And what really upsets me is they basically say that if books like The Great Gatsby had come across their desks they wouldn't have published it as is. Well, and you would have been fools. Milton wrote a second poem after Paradise Lost. It is called Paradise Regained. It's written perfectly and was critically acclaimed during its day. Guess what? No one remembers that second poem. It is often flaws that elevate art to a higher level. It is often mistakes and experiments that lead to a new genre or style. We need something to debate or what is the purpose of talking about a piece of art for more than a year or two?
I should just freaking stay away from commenting and reviewing and what-have-you. I don't know why I take it all so personally.
Complaining
I'm going to use this blog to do a little complaining. I feel I need to vent about certain things. You see, I'm a "sweat the small things" kind of person. Little things get to me far more than stress about bills or where my life is going. Here's the daily rant:
I just went downstairs to make breakfast and my nephew was eating ice cream. I looked over to the coffee pot (which is next to the fridge so a lot of food gets made on the counter in front of the coffee pot) and there were all these puddles of ice cream where he just sloppily spooned it into the cup. I didn't clean it up. I refuse to. I'm also not going to be the one who says anything to him about it because we all know where that will lead. I just fixed breakfast ignoring the puddles, and when my mother comes back one of two things will happen. She will either yell at him and he will deny he did it, or she will just quietly clean it up and pretend like he isn't a giant, lazy asshole. There was a towel right next to him on the counter, for the record. He wouldn't have even needed to move anything but his arm.
Here's my mother back from taking my sister to work, let's see what she does: quietly cleaned it up.
I just went downstairs to make breakfast and my nephew was eating ice cream. I looked over to the coffee pot (which is next to the fridge so a lot of food gets made on the counter in front of the coffee pot) and there were all these puddles of ice cream where he just sloppily spooned it into the cup. I didn't clean it up. I refuse to. I'm also not going to be the one who says anything to him about it because we all know where that will lead. I just fixed breakfast ignoring the puddles, and when my mother comes back one of two things will happen. She will either yell at him and he will deny he did it, or she will just quietly clean it up and pretend like he isn't a giant, lazy asshole. There was a towel right next to him on the counter, for the record. He wouldn't have even needed to move anything but his arm.
Here's my mother back from taking my sister to work, let's see what she does: quietly cleaned it up.
January 16, 2011
Tacos
So, a little look into my life and what I could eat every single day: homemade tacos. One night a few weeks ago I ate seven tacos. If you want to know what a feat that is, I weigh 128.2 lbs. When I move out, just like I did when I was in grad school, I'll most likely fall into the habit of buying taco ingredients in bulk and eating them for dinner every night. Let's break it down into how far I can take these ingredients:
5 pounds ground chuck: $8.39
colby cheese (blocks, because I FLOVE it home-shredded): 3 for $5
large bottle of Ortega taco sauce: $3.99
hard taco shells: 18 for $2.99
All-purpose seasoning (it doesn't have to be taco seasoning): $2.39
small zip-lock freezer bags: 40 for $3.29 (for the meat)
I'd probably eat between 2-4 tacos a night, so the shells will last a little less than a week. The five pounds of chuck will last for months, though, and since it can be divided up and frozen and be fine for that amount of time, it's awesome.
But initially I'm spending $26.05. Plus tax for the freezer bags. Of course I probably would take a break from the tacos and not eat them every night, but if I had to chose one meal I was forced to eat for the rest of my life, that would be it. And as you can see, I like them simple. I like sour cream and avocado and all, but not on my hard tacos.
How I can use these ingredients in my other meals: cheese can go on chili cheese home fries or in chili; the hamburger can be used for chili; I use the seasoning on my eggs for breakfast; I like taco sauce in place of ketchup for things like fried potatoes.
(Off-topic: I type two spaces after a period. I hear this is some form of blasphemy now, but I don't really give a damn. I learned to type with two spaces. I could teach myself otherwise but that's ridiculous. What is the purpose? I'm a writer who sends out my manuscripts, which will be re-typed if they are ever accepted by a publisher, so it's silly to ever worry about it. I mean, if I ever got a job where one of my main functions is to type correspondence or articles, etc. I'd have to learn the new way, but I think I'm going to cross that bridge when I get there. I only bring up this topic because I heard it drives some people nuts that there are people who aren't conforming to the new way, but I just have to ask, why do you care?)
5 pounds ground chuck: $8.39
colby cheese (blocks, because I FLOVE it home-shredded): 3 for $5
large bottle of Ortega taco sauce: $3.99
hard taco shells: 18 for $2.99
All-purpose seasoning (it doesn't have to be taco seasoning): $2.39
small zip-lock freezer bags: 40 for $3.29 (for the meat)
I'd probably eat between 2-4 tacos a night, so the shells will last a little less than a week. The five pounds of chuck will last for months, though, and since it can be divided up and frozen and be fine for that amount of time, it's awesome.
But initially I'm spending $26.05. Plus tax for the freezer bags. Of course I probably would take a break from the tacos and not eat them every night, but if I had to chose one meal I was forced to eat for the rest of my life, that would be it. And as you can see, I like them simple. I like sour cream and avocado and all, but not on my hard tacos.
How I can use these ingredients in my other meals: cheese can go on chili cheese home fries or in chili; the hamburger can be used for chili; I use the seasoning on my eggs for breakfast; I like taco sauce in place of ketchup for things like fried potatoes.
(Off-topic: I type two spaces after a period. I hear this is some form of blasphemy now, but I don't really give a damn. I learned to type with two spaces. I could teach myself otherwise but that's ridiculous. What is the purpose? I'm a writer who sends out my manuscripts, which will be re-typed if they are ever accepted by a publisher, so it's silly to ever worry about it. I mean, if I ever got a job where one of my main functions is to type correspondence or articles, etc. I'd have to learn the new way, but I think I'm going to cross that bridge when I get there. I only bring up this topic because I heard it drives some people nuts that there are people who aren't conforming to the new way, but I just have to ask, why do you care?)
January 15, 2011
In the Way
No one else in this house has to go to work on Saturdays except for me. I don't understand why it seems that whenever I have to be there at 9:30 a.m. all these people who normally sleep until noon get up and get in my way, and then say asshole things to me when I say, "Can you wait about a half an hour to do that? I'll be gone for work then and it will be easier for everyone."
Oh, lord, how offensive and selfish of me. This morning I slept in a little figuring I had plenty of time to eat, shower, and get to work. My father sat in his little den-room playing on his computer until the moment I went downstairs. I had to try to maneuver around him as he microwaved last night's chicken wings and got ice. Eventually he saw I was standing waiting for him to move out of the way of the fridge and he said, "Am I in your way?" I said, "I don't really have much time," to which he replied, "Well then next time set your alarm earlier and you won't have that problem."
You know what? Fuck that. There was no reason he couldn't have waited until I was done making breakast to make his chicken wings. If I had taken a shower first and eaten breakast second, how much do you want to bet he would have waited until then to make those wings? It took me twice as long to make breakfast because I had to wait for him to be out of the way and then afterward I was frustrated and kept messing up.
My father does everything for me and I know he feels hurt when we have arguments. But he isn't always right. I know he cried when my mother told him I was going to move out this year. I know I'm his only true child. But I also need space. I need to not have to negotiate how I walk around this house every time I walk around this house.
Oh, lord, how offensive and selfish of me. This morning I slept in a little figuring I had plenty of time to eat, shower, and get to work. My father sat in his little den-room playing on his computer until the moment I went downstairs. I had to try to maneuver around him as he microwaved last night's chicken wings and got ice. Eventually he saw I was standing waiting for him to move out of the way of the fridge and he said, "Am I in your way?" I said, "I don't really have much time," to which he replied, "Well then next time set your alarm earlier and you won't have that problem."
You know what? Fuck that. There was no reason he couldn't have waited until I was done making breakast to make his chicken wings. If I had taken a shower first and eaten breakast second, how much do you want to bet he would have waited until then to make those wings? It took me twice as long to make breakfast because I had to wait for him to be out of the way and then afterward I was frustrated and kept messing up.
My father does everything for me and I know he feels hurt when we have arguments. But he isn't always right. I know he cried when my mother told him I was going to move out this year. I know I'm his only true child. But I also need space. I need to not have to negotiate how I walk around this house every time I walk around this house.
December 30, 2010
Dredging It All Up Again
Over at www.newsfromme.com, Mark Evanier writes yet again about the late night wars. He makes a very important point, one that is at the heart of why I was screaming at the TV earlier this year when Andy Richter was on Regis and Kelly. Richter said that The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien had good ratings during the summer before Jay Leno came on at 10:00. That's a bald-faced lie, and one that once again leads the audience away from the fact of the matter: Conan was failing in his time slot even during the summer. I was so angry when the audience of Regis and Kelly wildly applauded Richer's statement.
The truth is that Conan O'Brien was failing and then Jay Leno came on at 10:00 and he failed and so surrounding the 11:00 news was a bunch of failure. Leno never, ever impacted O'Brien's ratings. He impacted the ad revenue for the 11:00 affiliates. I'm not saying Leno wasn't a failure. At 10:00 p.m., he was.
(I do, however, disagree that he failed because his show was too much like his old Tonight Show. I thought The Jay Leno Show was trying too hard to have humor like The Office and all of these droll, dry sketch shows we see popping up. The younger comedians he brought on want so badly to be as deadpan as Colbert or outraged as Jon Stewart - which if you think about it, are just rehashes of how Letterman was [deadpan] and Leno was [outraged] during the glorious Late Night with David Letterman years.)
I don't watch any of these shows anymore but I still, deep down, root for Jay Leno. I don't understand what decision he was supposed to make in 2004. The only decision anyone would have accepted, truly, was if he retired and left television altogether. If he had said, "No, I won't give up The Tonight Show in 2009," he would have been called a bully who wouldn't let anyone else play with his toys (although, according to Bill Carter's new book, Leno didn't have a choice in the matter anyway - NBC told him Conan was getting the show instead of negotiating with him like previously thought). The media, that hated him anyway, was not going to accept any situation other than Leno going away, out of sight out of mind. When it was announced he would do a 10:00 p.m. show, everyone was waiting for him to fail which, in my opinion, was really unfair.
It's just like the book, the bane of my existence, That Book (not it's real title), wherein the editors tell aspiring writers that when they (the editors, who work for book publishers) get a manuscript, they go into reading it looking for a reason to reject it. You know, just no. That's a horrible mindset. Then these editors go on to show examples of how writers who took their advice were published (by them) and writers who didn't weren't published (by them). Then - THEN! - they take excerpts from The Great Gatsby and rewrite it to show how following their advice could make even a classic all the better. I think I may have written about this before, but it's a really sore subject with me.
Anyway, I just think it was unfair of basically the entire television and media world to be waiting for Leno to fail. And then he did, and I'm not saying I don't agree that he did, but part of me wonders if the media might not have poisoned a few viewer's minds. I just feel like it's hard to succeed when what seems like the entire world is rooting against you.
The truth is that Conan O'Brien was failing and then Jay Leno came on at 10:00 and he failed and so surrounding the 11:00 news was a bunch of failure. Leno never, ever impacted O'Brien's ratings. He impacted the ad revenue for the 11:00 affiliates. I'm not saying Leno wasn't a failure. At 10:00 p.m., he was.
(I do, however, disagree that he failed because his show was too much like his old Tonight Show. I thought The Jay Leno Show was trying too hard to have humor like The Office and all of these droll, dry sketch shows we see popping up. The younger comedians he brought on want so badly to be as deadpan as Colbert or outraged as Jon Stewart - which if you think about it, are just rehashes of how Letterman was [deadpan] and Leno was [outraged] during the glorious Late Night with David Letterman years.)
I don't watch any of these shows anymore but I still, deep down, root for Jay Leno. I don't understand what decision he was supposed to make in 2004. The only decision anyone would have accepted, truly, was if he retired and left television altogether. If he had said, "No, I won't give up The Tonight Show in 2009," he would have been called a bully who wouldn't let anyone else play with his toys (although, according to Bill Carter's new book, Leno didn't have a choice in the matter anyway - NBC told him Conan was getting the show instead of negotiating with him like previously thought). The media, that hated him anyway, was not going to accept any situation other than Leno going away, out of sight out of mind. When it was announced he would do a 10:00 p.m. show, everyone was waiting for him to fail which, in my opinion, was really unfair.
It's just like the book, the bane of my existence, That Book (not it's real title), wherein the editors tell aspiring writers that when they (the editors, who work for book publishers) get a manuscript, they go into reading it looking for a reason to reject it. You know, just no. That's a horrible mindset. Then these editors go on to show examples of how writers who took their advice were published (by them) and writers who didn't weren't published (by them). Then - THEN! - they take excerpts from The Great Gatsby and rewrite it to show how following their advice could make even a classic all the better. I think I may have written about this before, but it's a really sore subject with me.
Anyway, I just think it was unfair of basically the entire television and media world to be waiting for Leno to fail. And then he did, and I'm not saying I don't agree that he did, but part of me wonders if the media might not have poisoned a few viewer's minds. I just feel like it's hard to succeed when what seems like the entire world is rooting against you.
December 28, 2010
December 17, 2010
Stalker
I believe my 15-year-old nephew is headed down a dangerous road. This morning, as I was getting out of the shower I noticed that someone had written fuck you LDJ on the mirror so when the mirror steams up you can read it. Now, you know, it's his handwriting.
I told my mom. She said, "Well someone's going to have to have a talk with him about it." I was like, "Yeah, you, where you tell him and his mother to get out."
Instead she calls his mother, who says, "How do you know it was him? Why does everyone accuse him of doing these things?"
Well...
a) He has said point blank to my face that he hates me. He really hates me, you know.
b) It's his handrwriting.
c) Who else has been here the past two days who hates me?
He tried to say he hasn't even taken a shower in the last, like, four days.
a) Ew.
b) Bullshit.
My mother kept saying they had no place to go, so she couldn't tell them to leave. I don't care at this point. I don't really have anywhere to go either, because this is my parents' house and it's where the harrassment is. I packed everything of value to take with me to work today, because I was sure that while no one was in the house my nephew would try to break down my locked door and destroy everything. Unfortunately for him, my brother decided to stay and protect the house for the first half of the day and my older nephew came home for the second half. Now I'm here, and he's already gotten in a fight with my mother because when he didn't help her bring in the groceries like she asked him and instead ignored her, she yelled and he said, "Of course, another thing I'm getting blamed for." What do you fucking mean? This isn't some discreet message on a bathroom wall. This is sitting right in front of her doing nothing when she asked you to help. You aren't getting blamed, you're getting held responsible. Except you're not, because you're still sitting there and you didn't have to help in the end anyway.
His older brother "had a talk with him today" and I'm supposed to feel better.
My sister said she's moving out at the first of the year. She says that every year. I told my mother that I was still moving out, too. But until one of us is gone, I won't come out of my bedroom for anything but the necessities.
My mother keeps trying to say she can't choose between her children. I want to understand, but when you have one daughter who won't contribute money, who smokes in the house when you've asked her not to (and in the car, and in your face), who cusses and screams everything she says, who doesn't always flush the toilet after taking a crap (and neither does her son), who doesn't have a car but won't give gas money for the car that takes her everywhere, who says she doesn't think she should have to use her foodstamps or her child support to pay the bills in the house she lives in because technically it isn't her house, who defends her child who terrorizes a small cat and has now begun to terrorize a human being, who has a son who punches holes in the wall when he doesn't get his way, who has a son who messes with you car when he's mad at you...
...and you have another daughter who keeps hidden in her room, may not do much of the housework but stays hidden so the messes shouldn't be her responsibility anyway, who pays the cable bill, the phone bill, the water bill, sometimes the insurance, and the credit cards every month, who makes sure there is always money left over to buy food, who pays for all of the repairs on the car everyone in the entire family uses, who puts 90% of the gas in said car, who paid off YOUR debts with the money from her second job, who paid off YOUR debt earlier this year so YOU wouldn't have to worry about it anymore and YOU went and put YOURSELF back in that debt because the other daughter needed money for god knows what because she has a job, no conceivable bills, and child support, who, when she takes over the household expenses always pulls us out of debt by the end of two months but YOU take back over because I'm asking for too much money when I ask for $500 a month from each person, and now that daughter is being stalked by a 15-year-old?
It's time to make a choice.
I told my mom. She said, "Well someone's going to have to have a talk with him about it." I was like, "Yeah, you, where you tell him and his mother to get out."
Instead she calls his mother, who says, "How do you know it was him? Why does everyone accuse him of doing these things?"
Well...
a) He has said point blank to my face that he hates me. He really hates me, you know.
b) It's his handrwriting.
c) Who else has been here the past two days who hates me?
He tried to say he hasn't even taken a shower in the last, like, four days.
a) Ew.
b) Bullshit.
My mother kept saying they had no place to go, so she couldn't tell them to leave. I don't care at this point. I don't really have anywhere to go either, because this is my parents' house and it's where the harrassment is. I packed everything of value to take with me to work today, because I was sure that while no one was in the house my nephew would try to break down my locked door and destroy everything. Unfortunately for him, my brother decided to stay and protect the house for the first half of the day and my older nephew came home for the second half. Now I'm here, and he's already gotten in a fight with my mother because when he didn't help her bring in the groceries like she asked him and instead ignored her, she yelled and he said, "Of course, another thing I'm getting blamed for." What do you fucking mean? This isn't some discreet message on a bathroom wall. This is sitting right in front of her doing nothing when she asked you to help. You aren't getting blamed, you're getting held responsible. Except you're not, because you're still sitting there and you didn't have to help in the end anyway.
His older brother "had a talk with him today" and I'm supposed to feel better.
My sister said she's moving out at the first of the year. She says that every year. I told my mother that I was still moving out, too. But until one of us is gone, I won't come out of my bedroom for anything but the necessities.
My mother keeps trying to say she can't choose between her children. I want to understand, but when you have one daughter who won't contribute money, who smokes in the house when you've asked her not to (and in the car, and in your face), who cusses and screams everything she says, who doesn't always flush the toilet after taking a crap (and neither does her son), who doesn't have a car but won't give gas money for the car that takes her everywhere, who says she doesn't think she should have to use her foodstamps or her child support to pay the bills in the house she lives in because technically it isn't her house, who defends her child who terrorizes a small cat and has now begun to terrorize a human being, who has a son who punches holes in the wall when he doesn't get his way, who has a son who messes with you car when he's mad at you...
...and you have another daughter who keeps hidden in her room, may not do much of the housework but stays hidden so the messes shouldn't be her responsibility anyway, who pays the cable bill, the phone bill, the water bill, sometimes the insurance, and the credit cards every month, who makes sure there is always money left over to buy food, who pays for all of the repairs on the car everyone in the entire family uses, who puts 90% of the gas in said car, who paid off YOUR debts with the money from her second job, who paid off YOUR debt earlier this year so YOU wouldn't have to worry about it anymore and YOU went and put YOURSELF back in that debt because the other daughter needed money for god knows what because she has a job, no conceivable bills, and child support, who, when she takes over the household expenses always pulls us out of debt by the end of two months but YOU take back over because I'm asking for too much money when I ask for $500 a month from each person, and now that daughter is being stalked by a 15-year-old?
It's time to make a choice.
December 16, 2010
If I Ever Won the Lottery
Honest to Shivu, I would travel from hotel to hotel, staying about a week or so in each. I would take train rides just for the hell of it. I would buy a decent laptop, and I would order books through the local bookstore of whatever town I was in and stay long enough for each of them to arrive (usually three days, as far as I've seen). I would pack my Kindle and find podunk laundromats where I would read creepy stories like Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? by Joyce Carol Oates.
(I thoroughly enjoyed that experience a few summers ago when we had no washer and dryer and one of the last remaining laundromats here was just around the corner from our apartment.)
One of my fears is that I don't have any life to draw from when I'm writing. I looked at one of Tony Doerr's books at the library the other day and I remember him telling us how he used to live in Africa, and also how he worked in Alaska gutting fish for a year, too. He travelled to Rome with his wife and sons. I wanted one of my characters to run away to a big city and the more I thought about it the more I wondered how authentic it would sound. I think I need to go somewhere.
Here's what stops me, and I know it might sound pathetic or childish to some, but it's my psychology. My parents are old. My father is obviously getting sick. Their other children are sucking the life out of them. They've always done everything I've ever needed of them. I don't know what they would do without me.
It's hard to abandon people you know would never abandon you. But I do need to get away. I've never felt more confident or more sexy or more restless than I have since I turned thirty. I feel a little like this is the last youth of my life and I don't want to waste it anymore. I've been telling my mother for the past few days that I'm planning on moving out when March comes because I'll have extra money once all the credit cards are paid off. I'm still going to need a second job. I don't even care right now if that job is at a grocery store.
I just applied at another technical college. I don't think their needs for teaching composition are the same as a liberal arts college, but I'm desperate. I'm waiting on a phone call back from my district manager to tell me if Meijer would be considered a competitor to my current job because they sell clothing. If they aren't considered a competitor, or if she tells me I can work there if I don't work in clothing, shoes, or jewelry, then my brother can probably get me a guaranteed job there.
Maybe I should move to Chicago. Maybe I should apply for a Ph.D. program. (My dissertation would be about the use of memory in literature, focusing on Borges's iconic vs. individual memory, backed by Nabokov's invoked vs. evoked memory, drawing on Abe Akira's woven memories, and Lauren Slater's false memories, and my own false memories, and Dorothy Allison's memories of the dead children who are replaceable because Southern women are baby factories. Or it would be about the separate way we read fiction as opposed to non-fiction. When we read fiction we often think of the events as choices made by the author as opposed to non-fiction, which we think of as a set of circumstances that happened to the "characters." Of course the two occasionally overlap, but not often. Or maybe I can combine the two, and talk about how fiction is iconic as it's often symbolic and non-fiction is individual as it's often recounting a specifically, supposedly true set of experiences.)
Anyway, maybe soon I'll start applying for Alaskan fish-gutting jobs on Careerbuilder.
(I thoroughly enjoyed that experience a few summers ago when we had no washer and dryer and one of the last remaining laundromats here was just around the corner from our apartment.)
One of my fears is that I don't have any life to draw from when I'm writing. I looked at one of Tony Doerr's books at the library the other day and I remember him telling us how he used to live in Africa, and also how he worked in Alaska gutting fish for a year, too. He travelled to Rome with his wife and sons. I wanted one of my characters to run away to a big city and the more I thought about it the more I wondered how authentic it would sound. I think I need to go somewhere.
Here's what stops me, and I know it might sound pathetic or childish to some, but it's my psychology. My parents are old. My father is obviously getting sick. Their other children are sucking the life out of them. They've always done everything I've ever needed of them. I don't know what they would do without me.
It's hard to abandon people you know would never abandon you. But I do need to get away. I've never felt more confident or more sexy or more restless than I have since I turned thirty. I feel a little like this is the last youth of my life and I don't want to waste it anymore. I've been telling my mother for the past few days that I'm planning on moving out when March comes because I'll have extra money once all the credit cards are paid off. I'm still going to need a second job. I don't even care right now if that job is at a grocery store.
I just applied at another technical college. I don't think their needs for teaching composition are the same as a liberal arts college, but I'm desperate. I'm waiting on a phone call back from my district manager to tell me if Meijer would be considered a competitor to my current job because they sell clothing. If they aren't considered a competitor, or if she tells me I can work there if I don't work in clothing, shoes, or jewelry, then my brother can probably get me a guaranteed job there.
Maybe I should move to Chicago. Maybe I should apply for a Ph.D. program. (My dissertation would be about the use of memory in literature, focusing on Borges's iconic vs. individual memory, backed by Nabokov's invoked vs. evoked memory, drawing on Abe Akira's woven memories, and Lauren Slater's false memories, and my own false memories, and Dorothy Allison's memories of the dead children who are replaceable because Southern women are baby factories. Or it would be about the separate way we read fiction as opposed to non-fiction. When we read fiction we often think of the events as choices made by the author as opposed to non-fiction, which we think of as a set of circumstances that happened to the "characters." Of course the two occasionally overlap, but not often. Or maybe I can combine the two, and talk about how fiction is iconic as it's often symbolic and non-fiction is individual as it's often recounting a specifically, supposedly true set of experiences.)
Anyway, maybe soon I'll start applying for Alaskan fish-gutting jobs on Careerbuilder.
Wednesday Meals
Breakfast:
Burrito:
Leftover Mexican Casserole
Mexican Cheese: $1.50
Wheat/Flavored Tortilla Shells: $1.80
Avocado: a bag of four for $2.99
Ranch Dressing: $1.99
Coffee with Milk and Sugar
Oh, yeah, I forgot sugar: $1.99
Lunch:
The rest of the avocado/ranch dip
Tortilla chips
Campbell's Mexican Tortilla soup: $1.59
Juice
Dinner:
Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit: $2.99
(All-inclusive and I only use half of the dough - the other half can go in the fridge for lunch the next day)
Juice
So, that's $14.85. So for two days we're up to a little less than $50, but a lot of this stuff will be used over and over again for the next few days. I'll need to replace the juice, the tortilla chips, and the bread most often, most likely.
Let's go ahead and plan for Thursday:
Breakfast:
Breakfast sandwich:
Bread
Cheese
Eggs: $.84 a dozen
Ham: $3.50 a package of 9 oz.
Coffee, blah blah blah....
Lunch:
Pizza, all-inclusive from the day before
juice
Dinner:
Cous-cous: $2.39 a box
Pork Chops: $3.29 or so for a small package
Brussel Sprouts (yummy!): $1.50 for a frozen bag
juice (this will probably be the last of the juice)
$10.02 for Thursday. I'm up to about $54.07.
Burrito:
Leftover Mexican Casserole
Mexican Cheese: $1.50
Wheat/Flavored Tortilla Shells: $1.80
Avocado: a bag of four for $2.99
Ranch Dressing: $1.99
Coffee with Milk and Sugar
Oh, yeah, I forgot sugar: $1.99
Lunch:
The rest of the avocado/ranch dip
Tortilla chips
Campbell's Mexican Tortilla soup: $1.59
Juice
Dinner:
Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit: $2.99
(All-inclusive and I only use half of the dough - the other half can go in the fridge for lunch the next day)
Juice
So, that's $14.85. So for two days we're up to a little less than $50, but a lot of this stuff will be used over and over again for the next few days. I'll need to replace the juice, the tortilla chips, and the bread most often, most likely.
Let's go ahead and plan for Thursday:
Breakfast:
Breakfast sandwich:
Bread
Cheese
Eggs: $.84 a dozen
Ham: $3.50 a package of 9 oz.
Coffee, blah blah blah....
Lunch:
Pizza, all-inclusive from the day before
juice
Dinner:
Cous-cous: $2.39 a box
Pork Chops: $3.29 or so for a small package
Brussel Sprouts (yummy!): $1.50 for a frozen bag
juice (this will probably be the last of the juice)
$10.02 for Thursday. I'm up to about $54.07.
December 14, 2010
Lunch and Dinner
Lunch:
Campbell's Chunky New England Clam Chowder: $1.59 a can
Cranberry/Strawberry juice: $2.12 for 2 QTs
Dinner:
Hamburger Helper Mexican Casserole: $1.50
Black beans: $1.00 a can
Tortilla chips: $1.50 a bag
juice
Snack:
Tostitos Restaurant Style Salsa: 2.99 a jar
chips
juice
$11.70 for two meals but they can be leftovers. I can use the casserole in a burrito for breakfast or lunch the next day, too, and take some to work so I don't have to eat out. You know what? This is fun. Are you sick of my five thousand posts yet?
Campbell's Chunky New England Clam Chowder: $1.59 a can
Cranberry/Strawberry juice: $2.12 for 2 QTs
Dinner:
Hamburger Helper Mexican Casserole: $1.50
Black beans: $1.00 a can
Tortilla chips: $1.50 a bag
juice
Snack:
Tostitos Restaurant Style Salsa: 2.99 a jar
chips
juice
$11.70 for two meals but they can be leftovers. I can use the casserole in a burrito for breakfast or lunch the next day, too, and take some to work so I don't have to eat out. You know what? This is fun. Are you sick of my five thousand posts yet?
Student Loans
This year, I requested that my student loans be income contingent. The Direct Loan Center lowered my bills to a doable amount and I was happy. Suddenly this month, my payment quadrupled. Quadrupled.
I called to ask them why. They told me that the IRS sent them my 2009 tax information and since I made a little more money than I did the previous year, they raised my payment. I explained to them that I had already gone through this with them and was at that time told to send in a letter and a current paystub so they could see what my current pay was trending toward. I did so and that was when they lowered the bill to the good amount.
I asked them why:
a) it took so long to get my 2009 tax information
b) why I had to resubmit the paystub when I had already done so
They said that because I made $3500 extra last year (working a temporary job) they had recalculated my payment. I, again, explained that I had already been through this and that it was already on record that my income was less for 2010. They said it didn't matter and I would have to resubmit the forms and go through the whole process again.
I still don't understand, though, why the extra $3500 made them quadruple the payment.
I called to ask them why. They told me that the IRS sent them my 2009 tax information and since I made a little more money than I did the previous year, they raised my payment. I explained to them that I had already gone through this with them and was at that time told to send in a letter and a current paystub so they could see what my current pay was trending toward. I did so and that was when they lowered the bill to the good amount.
I asked them why:
a) it took so long to get my 2009 tax information
b) why I had to resubmit the paystub when I had already done so
They said that because I made $3500 extra last year (working a temporary job) they had recalculated my payment. I, again, explained that I had already been through this and that it was already on record that my income was less for 2010. They said it didn't matter and I would have to resubmit the forms and go through the whole process again.
I still don't understand, though, why the extra $3500 made them quadruple the payment.
Food Journal
I think i'll start keeping a food journal so I can see how much it would cost each week to feed myself.
My planned breakfast in the morning: a grilled-cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Bread: $1.50 for one loaf.
Cheeses: 2 for $5.00 (Muenster and Swiss)
Butter: $2.00 a container
Coffee: A good kind is about $7.00
Milk: $2.00 a gallon
That's $17.50 but the bread, cheese, butter, and milk will serve other purposes, too. We'll see what lunch costs me tomorrow and try to figure out about how much money I would need each week for just little old me.
My planned breakfast in the morning: a grilled-cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Bread: $1.50 for one loaf.
Cheeses: 2 for $5.00 (Muenster and Swiss)
Butter: $2.00 a container
Coffee: A good kind is about $7.00
Milk: $2.00 a gallon
That's $17.50 but the bread, cheese, butter, and milk will serve other purposes, too. We'll see what lunch costs me tomorrow and try to figure out about how much money I would need each week for just little old me.
December 13, 2010
Everytime I Think I Could Be Happy....
I went into the upstairs bathroom today to wash my face and I noticed, in the mirror, something written on the wall behind me. I recognized my own name, so I turned around to see what it said (secretly already knowing) and it said: LDJ is a slut. Except it said my real name, of course.
My nephew (obviously) carved - and I mean carved - this into the wall and then went over it with blue pen. It is not really all that small, and my seriously protective father is going to see it soon. I don't know what's going to happen when he does.
So here's a small secret that I'm ashamed of: I kinda hate this kid. I don't know what to do anymore. His mother and my mother won't do anything about him and he constantly does things like this to me. He has chosen me as the person he is allowed to harrass. Because he knows they'll protect him. He and I have had physical fights before when I can't take it anymore. There's only so many times a kid can call you a bitch, tell you he's going to kick your head in, and then talk on the phone to his girlfriend about what a stupid whore you are. There are only so many times a kid can let his nineteen-year-old girlfriend steal your underwear (you read that). There are only so many times he can go through your underwear drawers himself and steal things you had hidden in there.
I have a padlock on my bedroom door that I lock before I leave the house now. Today he was in the room next to mine when I left, and all I can think is that he got angry that he can't steal from me or violate my privacy anymore. We've barely spoken ten words to each other for the last six months, let alone had a fight, so he must have been wanting something out of my bedroom and was frustrated to see that I made sure to lock it up. The padlock has been there almost a year, though, so why the sudden outburst?
Part of me feels bad for him, because he is the product of bad parenting all around. My sister babied him when he was little and when he grew big enough to fight her she grew afraid of him. My mother is afraid of him. They let him get away with things because they think he'll have a violent outburst and hurt them. His father isn't around and when he is around it's a crapshoot whether he spends time with his son. We don't have much money, so he doesn't get a lot of the things his friends at school get, like a new phone every six months or all the latest video game consoles. I'm sure life is frustrating when you see what everyone else has and compare it to what you don't have.
But, why me? Why has he chosen me as the focus of all his rage? Because when he was little I didn't baby him and when he fought me I fought him back? Does he find me that threatening? I guess he does. I think it's also because he doesn't understand I'm not a child. That's a big problem with my whole family. Even though I put in way more money for the bills and food than my sister who lives here with her two children, she talks about how I do nothing all the time. He hears that. Then he sees that I have things. I have a computer, a netbook, the Kindle, I had a few video game consoles (which almost all of them are gone now, stolen), I have a small refrigerator. But you know what? I bought all of that after I paid the bills that needed to be paid and bought the food that needed to be bought. I bought the computer with part of one of my paychecks from my second job teaching college. My parents bought me the netbook for my thirtieth birthday, but his mother bought him a $500 IPod for his birthday this year (he threw it at her and broke her tooth). I bought the Kindle with saved money and an extra paycheck, after I paid the water bill and bought food. This is my money because I'm a grown-up with no children and a job.
When we all moved in together, I had pretty fair credit. During the first year here, there were seven people and at one point four of them didn't have jobs, including my sister. I took out FIVE credit cards to pay bills, buy food, and keep us above water. In March four of those credit cards will be paid off (I put them in consolidation, along with my Maurices card, which was my fault). I have repaid all of those credit cards while still paying for part of the bills and food. I don't buy much and if I have a vice, like they have cigarettes, my vice is books.
Oooohhh, my mother is looking at the wall right now. I wonder what's going to happen. I can hear her trying to rub it off. Of course she's just going to hide it and pretend like it didn't happen.
My nephew (obviously) carved - and I mean carved - this into the wall and then went over it with blue pen. It is not really all that small, and my seriously protective father is going to see it soon. I don't know what's going to happen when he does.
So here's a small secret that I'm ashamed of: I kinda hate this kid. I don't know what to do anymore. His mother and my mother won't do anything about him and he constantly does things like this to me. He has chosen me as the person he is allowed to harrass. Because he knows they'll protect him. He and I have had physical fights before when I can't take it anymore. There's only so many times a kid can call you a bitch, tell you he's going to kick your head in, and then talk on the phone to his girlfriend about what a stupid whore you are. There are only so many times a kid can let his nineteen-year-old girlfriend steal your underwear (you read that). There are only so many times he can go through your underwear drawers himself and steal things you had hidden in there.
I have a padlock on my bedroom door that I lock before I leave the house now. Today he was in the room next to mine when I left, and all I can think is that he got angry that he can't steal from me or violate my privacy anymore. We've barely spoken ten words to each other for the last six months, let alone had a fight, so he must have been wanting something out of my bedroom and was frustrated to see that I made sure to lock it up. The padlock has been there almost a year, though, so why the sudden outburst?
Part of me feels bad for him, because he is the product of bad parenting all around. My sister babied him when he was little and when he grew big enough to fight her she grew afraid of him. My mother is afraid of him. They let him get away with things because they think he'll have a violent outburst and hurt them. His father isn't around and when he is around it's a crapshoot whether he spends time with his son. We don't have much money, so he doesn't get a lot of the things his friends at school get, like a new phone every six months or all the latest video game consoles. I'm sure life is frustrating when you see what everyone else has and compare it to what you don't have.
But, why me? Why has he chosen me as the focus of all his rage? Because when he was little I didn't baby him and when he fought me I fought him back? Does he find me that threatening? I guess he does. I think it's also because he doesn't understand I'm not a child. That's a big problem with my whole family. Even though I put in way more money for the bills and food than my sister who lives here with her two children, she talks about how I do nothing all the time. He hears that. Then he sees that I have things. I have a computer, a netbook, the Kindle, I had a few video game consoles (which almost all of them are gone now, stolen), I have a small refrigerator. But you know what? I bought all of that after I paid the bills that needed to be paid and bought the food that needed to be bought. I bought the computer with part of one of my paychecks from my second job teaching college. My parents bought me the netbook for my thirtieth birthday, but his mother bought him a $500 IPod for his birthday this year (he threw it at her and broke her tooth). I bought the Kindle with saved money and an extra paycheck, after I paid the water bill and bought food. This is my money because I'm a grown-up with no children and a job.
When we all moved in together, I had pretty fair credit. During the first year here, there were seven people and at one point four of them didn't have jobs, including my sister. I took out FIVE credit cards to pay bills, buy food, and keep us above water. In March four of those credit cards will be paid off (I put them in consolidation, along with my Maurices card, which was my fault). I have repaid all of those credit cards while still paying for part of the bills and food. I don't buy much and if I have a vice, like they have cigarettes, my vice is books.
Oooohhh, my mother is looking at the wall right now. I wonder what's going to happen. I can hear her trying to rub it off. Of course she's just going to hide it and pretend like it didn't happen.
December 7, 2010
The Scene with the Lisps
During the choosing of the 104 books, I chose God Knows by Joseph Heller just based on this clip from a customer review at Amazon:
"There are many novels out there that make me smile and/or chuckle, but God Knows is one of the few that made me laugh out loud in several places. Read it if only for the passage with the lisps. You'll know what I mean when you get there."
How can I not want to read the scene with the lisps, no matter what it may be?
"There are many novels out there that make me smile and/or chuckle, but God Knows is one of the few that made me laugh out loud in several places. Read it if only for the passage with the lisps. You'll know what I mean when you get there."
How can I not want to read the scene with the lisps, no matter what it may be?
December 6, 2010
The Great Time-Waster
Today I tried to decide what book to read next and I literally almost had a nervous breakdown. It went something...like this....
Should I buy an expensive book for the Kindle? It isn't getting much love. What if I don't like the book I buy? There are many free books. But I haven't enjoyed a free book yet. Will that be a waste of time? I don't want to go to the library. There's never any parking. I could order another book. I could just read The Magic Mountain for the next twelve hours and feel as though I got nowhere with it...again. I could read more of the Joyce Collection or the P.G. Wodehouse collection. There, I read a chapter each. I feel like I accomplished...nothing. I want to read non-fiction. Do I want to read non-fiction? All the non-fiction for less than a dollar on the Kindle is from, like, 1908. I could break down and buy one of those expensive linguistics books I've been eyeing. Or I could just break down.
Hours, people. So what I'm doing now is compiling a list of the 104 books I'll read in 2011 (two books each week). I have all of these various lists I typed up long ago, including a list of all the movies made from books (about sixty pages); a list of books by female authors I photocopied from a book at a school I worked for; two separate lists of canon classics; lists of previous award-winners; a list from a literary book that listed (ding!) hundreds of literary genres and books that / authors who represent those genres; the one hundred must-read books of 2010 according to The New York Times, of which I chose eight (including one by Tony Doerr!); slots for random novels, including the one NGS told me she wanted me to read; and The Dictionary of Imaginary Places. Plus other sources.
I have 27 books so far, and I will have a complete list by the end of the night. I'm leaving thirteen slots for random books (including NGS's book). This partially worked for me when I had a goal of reading 100 pages a day, the difference being that I just chose random books from those lists. This time, I'm researching them and only choosing books I think I'll enjoy.
You know I struggle with the idea that I'll never know whether I'll enjoy a book until I read it, so part of me bucks this idea. But, I'm also forcing myself to understand no one can read every book every other person has read, or every book someone considers a classic. Each of the books I'm choosing sounds like a story, character, or idea I can get behind. I'm very excited.
Should I buy an expensive book for the Kindle? It isn't getting much love. What if I don't like the book I buy? There are many free books. But I haven't enjoyed a free book yet. Will that be a waste of time? I don't want to go to the library. There's never any parking. I could order another book. I could just read The Magic Mountain for the next twelve hours and feel as though I got nowhere with it...again. I could read more of the Joyce Collection or the P.G. Wodehouse collection. There, I read a chapter each. I feel like I accomplished...nothing. I want to read non-fiction. Do I want to read non-fiction? All the non-fiction for less than a dollar on the Kindle is from, like, 1908. I could break down and buy one of those expensive linguistics books I've been eyeing. Or I could just break down.
Hours, people. So what I'm doing now is compiling a list of the 104 books I'll read in 2011 (two books each week). I have all of these various lists I typed up long ago, including a list of all the movies made from books (about sixty pages); a list of books by female authors I photocopied from a book at a school I worked for; two separate lists of canon classics; lists of previous award-winners; a list from a literary book that listed (ding!) hundreds of literary genres and books that / authors who represent those genres; the one hundred must-read books of 2010 according to The New York Times, of which I chose eight (including one by Tony Doerr!); slots for random novels, including the one NGS told me she wanted me to read; and The Dictionary of Imaginary Places. Plus other sources.
I have 27 books so far, and I will have a complete list by the end of the night. I'm leaving thirteen slots for random books (including NGS's book). This partially worked for me when I had a goal of reading 100 pages a day, the difference being that I just chose random books from those lists. This time, I'm researching them and only choosing books I think I'll enjoy.
You know I struggle with the idea that I'll never know whether I'll enjoy a book until I read it, so part of me bucks this idea. But, I'm also forcing myself to understand no one can read every book every other person has read, or every book someone considers a classic. Each of the books I'm choosing sounds like a story, character, or idea I can get behind. I'm very excited.
November 17, 2010
Well F___ Me
In the previous post, I just realized, I used the wrong "affect/effect" twice. I am truly, truly ashamed of myself.
I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because peanut butter contains both sugar for an immediate EFFECT and protein for a lating EFFECT.
/shame
I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because peanut butter contains both sugar for an immediate EFFECT and protein for a lating EFFECT.
/shame
November 16, 2010
My Eating Habits
When I started at my job five years ago, I had a pretty poor diet. One thing which didn't help was the store I work at was two minutes from Taco Bell and I'm a sucker for that place. A likely meal for me would be a bean burrito with no onions and extra cheese, a Reeces Cup, and a Mountain Dew. I drove to get those things.
In the past three years or so, a lot has changed. Two years ago the store moved, which helped a lot, but the changes had begun even before then. I began walking to Kroger down the strip to buy a frozen dinner and a juice. I stopped eating things like candy and cake. I slowly stopped drinking pop.
This year alone, I can truly count on my fingers the times I've had pop. I have had maybe five orange-soda-floats from Wendy's. I've had, I believe, two Mountain Dews from Taco Bell and two from KFC. Cakes, brownies, and whole candy bars make me want to vomit (cake really, truly makes me feel ill when I eat it).
My parents keep buying me sweets when they go to the store, and right now, I can see a package of carmalized waffle cookies, a box of smores cereal, a box of strawberry shortcake rolls, and a giant Hershey's bar which does have a few bites out of it but that's because my mother wanted some. I have eaten a few of the cakes, with milk, and only when I feel shaky like I'm having a low blood sugar attack (hypoglycemia). What I prefer when I feel an attack is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, mostly because peanut butter supplies both the sugar for immediate affect and protein for a lasting affect. Sometimes I munch here and there out of the cereal but it's taking a long time.
So here's the bottom line: I don't like sweets. And I'm beginning to abhor "home cooking" because all my mother ever makes is fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and hamburger steaks (fried) and fried potatoes and etc. etc. ad nauseum. It's disgusting. I try to keep back-ups for these occasions. Salsa, hummus, cous-cous, guacamole, assortments of cheeses, deli-thin ham.
And breakfast has become some kind of religious experience for me. When I was in grad school, I got out of bed, took a bath, left for school, returned home, ate a bowl of soup, returned to school, returned home, ate cheese and crackers, did homework (ahem, um, yeah) and went back to bed. I lost forty pounds.
Now, breakfast can't just be waffles (my mother happily pulled them out of the bag as though I should have jumped up and down because she bought them - I reminded her I'd throw up within the hour if I ate waffles for breakfast), and it can't just be cereal, and it can't just be a banana. It has to be a meal. A typical breakfast for me, with ingredients hoarded away in the little refrigerator in my bedroom, is an English muffin with an egg, ham, amish swiss cheese, and garden vegetable cream cheese on it. Or it's a breakfast burrito with sausage, egg, cheese, avocado-ranch mix, and taco sauce. Or it's chili cheese home fries with a few slices of turkey bacon. Tomorrow morning I think it's going to be a grilled cheese sandwich with one slice American, one slice muenster, on honey-wheat bread with turkey bacon.
In general I just can't eat like they do. It's hard to buy groceries for six people on $100 or so a week, so what we buy are things like hamburger and huge pork loins that can be divided up. Chicken legs are always extremely cheap for a large package. The rest of my family thinks macaroni and cheese is a gourmet meal. Spaghetti is relatively cheap. Chili is enjoyed by all (including me) and makes a huge pot so we make it about twice a week (it gets old, though, eating the same thing over and over). Tonight we had chicken legs and macaroni and cheese and corn and cottage cheese. I tried to eat a piece of chicken (but it was undercooked so I stopped), some mac and cheese (but it was undercooked so I stopped), and some cottage cheese (it wasn't cooked so it was fine).
The more and more that things like this go on, the more I dream of a studio apartment where I only have to buy food for myself and since I don't eat much, I can get what I want and make it last. And it will be good food, like fruits and vegetables and juice (I drink one cup of coffee in the morning and juice or occasionally tea the rest of the day). I can only imagine the dinners I could make with $100 a week for just me. I don't know that I would even need that much money.
In the past three years or so, a lot has changed. Two years ago the store moved, which helped a lot, but the changes had begun even before then. I began walking to Kroger down the strip to buy a frozen dinner and a juice. I stopped eating things like candy and cake. I slowly stopped drinking pop.
This year alone, I can truly count on my fingers the times I've had pop. I have had maybe five orange-soda-floats from Wendy's. I've had, I believe, two Mountain Dews from Taco Bell and two from KFC. Cakes, brownies, and whole candy bars make me want to vomit (cake really, truly makes me feel ill when I eat it).
My parents keep buying me sweets when they go to the store, and right now, I can see a package of carmalized waffle cookies, a box of smores cereal, a box of strawberry shortcake rolls, and a giant Hershey's bar which does have a few bites out of it but that's because my mother wanted some. I have eaten a few of the cakes, with milk, and only when I feel shaky like I'm having a low blood sugar attack (hypoglycemia). What I prefer when I feel an attack is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, mostly because peanut butter supplies both the sugar for immediate affect and protein for a lasting affect. Sometimes I munch here and there out of the cereal but it's taking a long time.
So here's the bottom line: I don't like sweets. And I'm beginning to abhor "home cooking" because all my mother ever makes is fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and hamburger steaks (fried) and fried potatoes and etc. etc. ad nauseum. It's disgusting. I try to keep back-ups for these occasions. Salsa, hummus, cous-cous, guacamole, assortments of cheeses, deli-thin ham.
And breakfast has become some kind of religious experience for me. When I was in grad school, I got out of bed, took a bath, left for school, returned home, ate a bowl of soup, returned to school, returned home, ate cheese and crackers, did homework (ahem, um, yeah) and went back to bed. I lost forty pounds.
Now, breakfast can't just be waffles (my mother happily pulled them out of the bag as though I should have jumped up and down because she bought them - I reminded her I'd throw up within the hour if I ate waffles for breakfast), and it can't just be cereal, and it can't just be a banana. It has to be a meal. A typical breakfast for me, with ingredients hoarded away in the little refrigerator in my bedroom, is an English muffin with an egg, ham, amish swiss cheese, and garden vegetable cream cheese on it. Or it's a breakfast burrito with sausage, egg, cheese, avocado-ranch mix, and taco sauce. Or it's chili cheese home fries with a few slices of turkey bacon. Tomorrow morning I think it's going to be a grilled cheese sandwich with one slice American, one slice muenster, on honey-wheat bread with turkey bacon.
In general I just can't eat like they do. It's hard to buy groceries for six people on $100 or so a week, so what we buy are things like hamburger and huge pork loins that can be divided up. Chicken legs are always extremely cheap for a large package. The rest of my family thinks macaroni and cheese is a gourmet meal. Spaghetti is relatively cheap. Chili is enjoyed by all (including me) and makes a huge pot so we make it about twice a week (it gets old, though, eating the same thing over and over). Tonight we had chicken legs and macaroni and cheese and corn and cottage cheese. I tried to eat a piece of chicken (but it was undercooked so I stopped), some mac and cheese (but it was undercooked so I stopped), and some cottage cheese (it wasn't cooked so it was fine).
The more and more that things like this go on, the more I dream of a studio apartment where I only have to buy food for myself and since I don't eat much, I can get what I want and make it last. And it will be good food, like fruits and vegetables and juice (I drink one cup of coffee in the morning and juice or occasionally tea the rest of the day). I can only imagine the dinners I could make with $100 a week for just me. I don't know that I would even need that much money.
November 15, 2010
Indistinguishable Work Rant #4000
I called in today to find out my hours for Wednesday. I didn't have them written down. Of course the conversation turned to scheduling the Thanksgiving holiday week and that's when everything blew up and the conversation ended with a looonnngggg awkward silence.
I work at a retail job. You know, if your career goal is to manage your own store or work you way up through a company to CEO or something, that's great. What bothers me is when managers try to force everyone on staff to think of their jobs as the MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THEIR LIVES.
I work 3-5 days a week. This job has a good deal of importance to me right now because it's my only job. We have some people, though, who are in high school or who are just using this job as a supplemental income for their full-time job. They shouldn't have to worry about this job being intrusive on their everyday lives. It shouldn't be a priority to them.
But our company tries to force them to feel like it's a priority. One of the "rules" we have is that you can't expect a set schedule, and you also can't expect weekends off. But you know, if you have a forty-hour job you've worked at for ten years and you're used to having weekends off, or you're used to a set schedule, it might be hard going to get used to being told "no" when you ask for a lot of days off. But on the other hand, you were hired to only work 1-2 days a week anyway, so as long as you're doing that, and as long as there are others who are willing to work the days you're not willing to work, there should be no problem.
And this is what I argued today, because we have an employee who works a full-time job where she has had weekends off for the past ten years or so and she is used to certain traditional vacations and such. She doesn't always request weekends off, but at this time of the year, with extended holidays and traditions, she has requested a good number of days off (still giving us leeway to schedule her 1-2 shifts each week, though). But she isn't working any weekend day in November. She has told us she's almost completely open in December to make up for this. What's the problem, right?
It's a huuugggeee problem to the company. Because we have to look at this as a business, you know. And if our needs say you can't go on your traditional Thanksgiving trip for no other reason than we think you should be forced to work at least one weekend in November, then you'll just have to suffer. We never promised you'd get days off if you request them.
My manager and I got into a huge (but calm) argument where she tried to remind me that she can't be worried about the other coworker's perspective, but has to think about our needs. But you know what? We don't need her to work any of those weekends. We have plenty of people who are available and WILLING to work those weekends. This is nothing more than the company's power play, underscored by my manager's words of "I can't give [the coworker] the upper hand." And I just interrupted her after a while and said, simply, "I don't agree." And I repeated it after she tried to convince me a few more times and then there was awkward silence which she ended by saying, "So you just needed your schedule," and my reply of "Yep."
I'm just so tired of hearing the words "This is retail." So the fuck what? And furthermore, exactly! I really, really don't have what it takes to care about a business like this.
I work at a retail job. You know, if your career goal is to manage your own store or work you way up through a company to CEO or something, that's great. What bothers me is when managers try to force everyone on staff to think of their jobs as the MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THEIR LIVES.
I work 3-5 days a week. This job has a good deal of importance to me right now because it's my only job. We have some people, though, who are in high school or who are just using this job as a supplemental income for their full-time job. They shouldn't have to worry about this job being intrusive on their everyday lives. It shouldn't be a priority to them.
But our company tries to force them to feel like it's a priority. One of the "rules" we have is that you can't expect a set schedule, and you also can't expect weekends off. But you know, if you have a forty-hour job you've worked at for ten years and you're used to having weekends off, or you're used to a set schedule, it might be hard going to get used to being told "no" when you ask for a lot of days off. But on the other hand, you were hired to only work 1-2 days a week anyway, so as long as you're doing that, and as long as there are others who are willing to work the days you're not willing to work, there should be no problem.
And this is what I argued today, because we have an employee who works a full-time job where she has had weekends off for the past ten years or so and she is used to certain traditional vacations and such. She doesn't always request weekends off, but at this time of the year, with extended holidays and traditions, she has requested a good number of days off (still giving us leeway to schedule her 1-2 shifts each week, though). But she isn't working any weekend day in November. She has told us she's almost completely open in December to make up for this. What's the problem, right?
It's a huuugggeee problem to the company. Because we have to look at this as a business, you know. And if our needs say you can't go on your traditional Thanksgiving trip for no other reason than we think you should be forced to work at least one weekend in November, then you'll just have to suffer. We never promised you'd get days off if you request them.
My manager and I got into a huge (but calm) argument where she tried to remind me that she can't be worried about the other coworker's perspective, but has to think about our needs. But you know what? We don't need her to work any of those weekends. We have plenty of people who are available and WILLING to work those weekends. This is nothing more than the company's power play, underscored by my manager's words of "I can't give [the coworker] the upper hand." And I just interrupted her after a while and said, simply, "I don't agree." And I repeated it after she tried to convince me a few more times and then there was awkward silence which she ended by saying, "So you just needed your schedule," and my reply of "Yep."
I'm just so tired of hearing the words "This is retail." So the fuck what? And furthermore, exactly! I really, really don't have what it takes to care about a business like this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
