I personally love the rainy season. There's something absolutely soothing about the sound of rainfall and the feel of raindrops plopping down onto your skin. It's nice and cool and storms are sometimes really pretty to watch.
Of course, unfortunate things do occur. Bad storms can leave you neighborhood strewn with leaves, branches, and probably your next door neighbor's trash. If the storm is bad enough, it'll pick up an entire trailer park and drop it in your high school's football field (a tornado, that is). And yes, lots of people do not like thunder.
And then there's the never ending cycle of stupid Wichita drivers in the rain. I've been complaining about this for the longest time. Nothing is ever going to be done about it, because as soon as that first drizzle of water hits a windshield, it's like every driver feels the necessity to drop their speed by one half.
Brakes will start showing up on the freeway, people crawl the highway like bugs, and apparently, rainy weather gives everyone the right to drive like a moron.
Today, while heading home from a nice long study session, I noted the car that I drove behind was going about ten miles under the limit. While it had poured a little bit earlier, by the time I was back on the road, it was nothing but a drizzle. I barely needed to put my wipers on. But the entire way down 21st street, I followed this car who was driving about 30 mph and keeping about 20 feet away from the car in front of him. In the other lane, there were cars galore and so passing him was NOT an option.
Now, I sincerely apologize if the person driving in front of me was an older man-- which I believe he was. Driving cautiously is key to some people and I understand that. I remained quite patient.
As soon as we began ascending onto the freeway, however, I swear he put his brakes on every two seconds up until he merged. He then promptly proceeded to switch into the middle lane, gracefully cutting off another driver who's brakes flashed immediately. The slowpoke continued to drive 10 under the limit and I passed him with a bit of relief.
I personally am not a fellow driver. I don't claim to be the best driver out there. I'm cautious and try to avoid as many accidents as possible within reason. I don't drop my speed suddenly without warning, I don't like to cut people off because I don't like to be cut off. I especially do not like to tail-gate because my reaction is sometimes a wee bit slow-- of course, towards the last half of my journey home, I noted a car behind me who was probably three feet up my ass. If I can't see your headlights, you are too close buddy.
I apologize for my old clunker of a car. It only goes so fast and if you don't want to drive slower than you like, then go around me. Simple as that.
Driving doesn't have to be hard.
Backtracking to somewhere in the middle of my drive home on the nifty and busy highway of 135, heading south, a large, made of complete hard metal truck changes lanes to get in front of me. This guy is not the problem; he was far enough in front of me that I could slow down to match his pace.
Unfortunately, a few moments later, he comes to a complete stop in the middle of the freeway while we are in the middle lane. I brace myself, I press down on my brakes, but I'm afraid to just slam on them because the ground is wet after all. I think I managed to stop within just a tiny bit of an inch away from colliding with the truck in front of me. By now, I am too surprised to think clearly until I notice that nothing else is happening. We have come to a dead stop in the middle of the freeway, but the other two lanes to either side are still moving, albeit, a little slower.
Moments later, the truck starts up again, and what do I see but some white SUV pulling out and over onto the shoulder of the freeway and stopping. Some woman had found it necessary to come to a complete stop on the freeway. And this isn't even all. After she pulls over onto the shoulder-- and not even all the way over, she immediately jumps out of her car which opens up directly into oncoming traffic from behind her and circles around to the back of her vehicle to check something.
I watched as two cars swerve towards my lane-- with me still in it-- to avoid running her stupid ass over and then the rest of the cars in that same lane slowing to a stop to keep from slaughtering her or taking her driver's side door out because the b**** doesn't even have the decency to shut her door as she inspects whatever it is she needs to inspect about her car.
Now I don't know what actually happened to cause her to have to first stop traffic in the middle lane while she waited to get out of the middle lane then over onto the shoulder. I don't know what was so important that she needed to burst unexpectedly out of her car into more traffic and thus stopping more traffic. If it was really that important, then maybe I'm in the wrong. But had this been a worst case scenario, I probably would have head-butted the metal-made truck in front of me and my car would have crumbled. Cars behind me would have then proceeded to sandwich me as well.
I'm a little distraught.
Following her little stop, she probably would have been bumped off of the freeway and to wherever had the truck not swerved out of her way when she jumped out of her own vehicle so suddenly. There's an accident that might have been able to have been prevented if she would have just been a little more patient and slowly made her way, all the way over onto the shoulder.
Okay. I'm done. I'm sorry about the newest post being another rant. I was a little shaky and pissed.
But I swear, the correlation concerning stupid drivers and rain is directly proportional. More rain equals stupider drivers.
For happier news, well, I guess I can say that I'm in good spirits about the final I have to take tomorrow. Somehow, I'm a bit calm about that.
And so there it is. A rant and a small bit of good news.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Day 4 of KC trip -- In which we wander then return home
Yes, the trip has finally come to an end. Unlike yesterday, driving wasn't as amusing, although when you put me and two of my closest friends together (especially me and Barbie) we have the most interesting conversations. Three hours is quite the time for a long drive and interesting conversation as we watch the scenery go by. Kansas country scenery is always amazing. Unlike last year when it practically poured buckets of water on us on the way home, this time around was sunny with clear skies and good weather.
While the contents of our conversations are usually best off not being divulged to public ears, I can only say that we did not have a boring car ride back home. Although it's hard to recall what we usually say to each other, so I wouldn't be able to tell others anyway. I recall some talk about cows, wheat fields and corn fields, farming, and then our beloved driver screaming at slow moving cars and stupid drivers with all her rage.
Times are fun.
Last night was a horrid sleeping night. While I was finally tired enough to sleep without waking at intervals, it figures that the room phone would malfunction and continuously ring through the night. We were NOT happy about that, but the hotel graciously apologized and refunded our night stay, so basically we were only charged for one night. After all, we weren't the only guests who were kept awake all night from the room phone ringing randomly through the night.
I guess since I get an employee discount anyway, I'm fine with that.
More shopping was done as we went back to Legends mall. I do believe that its a nice place to go-- it's mostly outlet stores and factory stores, which means that everything is cheaper and discounted than typical retail price. Surprisingly, I ended up buying some clothes for the winter. I guess I'm biding my time-- I'm fully prepared for the wintertime now.
Following we went to eat lunch at Bo Ling's Chinese Restaurant and I introduced my friends to dim sum. Enjoyable as it is, the amount of food your order as the servers come by with cart after cart of dim sum can add up quickly. For me, dim sum is always good and I even brought home some baked buns for my family.
While it doesn't seem like we've done much besides shop-- which is pretty much true-- I feel like we've done quite a bit these past few days in KC. A lot of time was pretty much just spent driving around and seeing new scenic sites and just hanging out and talking and laughing. I'm happy to say that we had a lot of fun.
It gets tiring to be on the road all the time for me, but this is one I especially enjoyed. While I feel bad that one of my friends was sick during the trip, I'm glad that she was able to come-- a vacation probably did some good for her anyway and she seemed to have just as much fun. Secondly, I feel kind of bad for my other friend who may or may not have contracted some of the cold/flu that us other two girls might have exposed her to.
Overall, this trip was a good one and I look forward to the next. By then, some of the newer shopping districts will probably be more developed and maybe newer areas will be available to visit.
While the contents of our conversations are usually best off not being divulged to public ears, I can only say that we did not have a boring car ride back home. Although it's hard to recall what we usually say to each other, so I wouldn't be able to tell others anyway. I recall some talk about cows, wheat fields and corn fields, farming, and then our beloved driver screaming at slow moving cars and stupid drivers with all her rage.
Times are fun.
Last night was a horrid sleeping night. While I was finally tired enough to sleep without waking at intervals, it figures that the room phone would malfunction and continuously ring through the night. We were NOT happy about that, but the hotel graciously apologized and refunded our night stay, so basically we were only charged for one night. After all, we weren't the only guests who were kept awake all night from the room phone ringing randomly through the night.
I guess since I get an employee discount anyway, I'm fine with that.
More shopping was done as we went back to Legends mall. I do believe that its a nice place to go-- it's mostly outlet stores and factory stores, which means that everything is cheaper and discounted than typical retail price. Surprisingly, I ended up buying some clothes for the winter. I guess I'm biding my time-- I'm fully prepared for the wintertime now.
Following we went to eat lunch at Bo Ling's Chinese Restaurant and I introduced my friends to dim sum. Enjoyable as it is, the amount of food your order as the servers come by with cart after cart of dim sum can add up quickly. For me, dim sum is always good and I even brought home some baked buns for my family.
While it doesn't seem like we've done much besides shop-- which is pretty much true-- I feel like we've done quite a bit these past few days in KC. A lot of time was pretty much just spent driving around and seeing new scenic sites and just hanging out and talking and laughing. I'm happy to say that we had a lot of fun.
It gets tiring to be on the road all the time for me, but this is one I especially enjoyed. While I feel bad that one of my friends was sick during the trip, I'm glad that she was able to come-- a vacation probably did some good for her anyway and she seemed to have just as much fun. Secondly, I feel kind of bad for my other friend who may or may not have contracted some of the cold/flu that us other two girls might have exposed her to.
Overall, this trip was a good one and I look forward to the next. By then, some of the newer shopping districts will probably be more developed and maybe newer areas will be available to visit.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Day 3 of KC trip - part 2 -- In which travel comes with amusement everywhere
It's funny all the things you run into while you're trying to get from one part of the city to another.
A fender bender causes a three lane stop for a mile or two on a major highway and while waiting for traffic to slowly crawl its way through, cars try to weave their ways between two inch gaps because they don't know whether they want to stay on the freeway or attempt to fly off of it. With flares and at least two police cars on the road, we had expected that something big happened-- but a simple fender bender it was.
Driving in KC has never been so amusing as today as our beloved Garmin attempted to direct us in the most outstanding directions possible just to pass through the middle of nowhere to arrive somewhere. At one point, we actually believed that we had pissed off the navigator enough that it would leave us stranded in an area we were unfamiliar with and then just shut down, taking out car and cell phones with it.
My company and I would never return home again.
But taking a very scenic, detour-ish route, we finally ended up at the locations requested.
Not that I'm complaining, because it's nice that we have a Garmin to direct us where to go. During the evening while looking for a way to get to the Cheesecake Factory in Overland Park-- yes, we ended up going a second time-- we drove passed a lot of very nicely designed residences. They were old, but they were beautiful with layouts that gave some an old fashioned, Victorian feel and others large enough to be mansions. The streets entrances to each neighborhood had identical greeting statues in the forms of flower pots, lions, etc., etc., etc...
There is nothing I love more than seeing all the unique statues, monuments, fountains, and various artistic displays in this area. Our own hometown has a lot of pieces of metal that we may like to call art, but they hold absolutely nothing against everything here in KC.
Driving in Kansas City is a little bit crazier than in Wichita. Traffic laws seem to be thrown out the window as car after car zoomed passed us as we too broke the law by going a couple miles over the speed limit. Even in heavy traffic, we kept seeing cars zip in and out of lanes barely few inches from grazing a car in front or behind.
Shopping today was rather productive. New York and Co. managed to pry money out of my hands gleefully as I watched on with puppy dog pouting. After that, I was sucked into a nice little place called Teavana that pretty much hypnotized me like an enchantress-- yes, they got some of my money too. My friends did their spending as well at New York and Co., but apparently when it came to Maurices, we seemed quite hesitant.
While it felt like we did a lot of things today, we really spent a lot of time driving around looking for different shopping malls or shopping districts. We found Zona Rosa after a slight detour to a desolate looking Indian Springs shopping center that may or may not have been located in a ghost town. I swear that when we come back next year, someone is going to tell us that Indian Springs has not existed for at least twenty years and what we saw was nothing. I bet my life on it-- but we don't really have to bet.
Zona Rosa looked to be a newer outdoor shopping district. There were still lots that were advertising for lease and the area was lain out very ideally with a few park-like areas were you can take pictures or just sit and enjoy the peace of the outdoors. Next year, I don't mind coming back to Zona Rosa as it is a nice area to visit, even if you're just going to walk around and window shop.
Overall, with an amusing car ride from one place to another, we had a lot of fun.
We had had plans to go to the Power and Light District, but currently lounging in the hotel room, we all seem to settled to want to go anywhere else. I don't mind that so much-- I think we've hit the point where just lounging feels good anyway. A nice, almost light turned heavy dinner at Cheesecake Factory, I think has gotten us to exhausted to do anything else.
Food has been great, shopping has been fun, random driving roadtrip is amusing... I'd say that the trip so far is going excellent.
Tomorrow will be the last day and our plans seem to be along the lines of last shopping plus lunch and then whatever else. But it's not set since we like to go with the flow-- itineraries are not for us and may drive us crazy.
Day three of the Kansas City trip-- still going very well.
A fender bender causes a three lane stop for a mile or two on a major highway and while waiting for traffic to slowly crawl its way through, cars try to weave their ways between two inch gaps because they don't know whether they want to stay on the freeway or attempt to fly off of it. With flares and at least two police cars on the road, we had expected that something big happened-- but a simple fender bender it was.
Driving in KC has never been so amusing as today as our beloved Garmin attempted to direct us in the most outstanding directions possible just to pass through the middle of nowhere to arrive somewhere. At one point, we actually believed that we had pissed off the navigator enough that it would leave us stranded in an area we were unfamiliar with and then just shut down, taking out car and cell phones with it.
My company and I would never return home again.
But taking a very scenic, detour-ish route, we finally ended up at the locations requested.
Not that I'm complaining, because it's nice that we have a Garmin to direct us where to go. During the evening while looking for a way to get to the Cheesecake Factory in Overland Park-- yes, we ended up going a second time-- we drove passed a lot of very nicely designed residences. They were old, but they were beautiful with layouts that gave some an old fashioned, Victorian feel and others large enough to be mansions. The streets entrances to each neighborhood had identical greeting statues in the forms of flower pots, lions, etc., etc., etc...
There is nothing I love more than seeing all the unique statues, monuments, fountains, and various artistic displays in this area. Our own hometown has a lot of pieces of metal that we may like to call art, but they hold absolutely nothing against everything here in KC.
Driving in Kansas City is a little bit crazier than in Wichita. Traffic laws seem to be thrown out the window as car after car zoomed passed us as we too broke the law by going a couple miles over the speed limit. Even in heavy traffic, we kept seeing cars zip in and out of lanes barely few inches from grazing a car in front or behind.
Shopping today was rather productive. New York and Co. managed to pry money out of my hands gleefully as I watched on with puppy dog pouting. After that, I was sucked into a nice little place called Teavana that pretty much hypnotized me like an enchantress-- yes, they got some of my money too. My friends did their spending as well at New York and Co., but apparently when it came to Maurices, we seemed quite hesitant.
While it felt like we did a lot of things today, we really spent a lot of time driving around looking for different shopping malls or shopping districts. We found Zona Rosa after a slight detour to a desolate looking Indian Springs shopping center that may or may not have been located in a ghost town. I swear that when we come back next year, someone is going to tell us that Indian Springs has not existed for at least twenty years and what we saw was nothing. I bet my life on it-- but we don't really have to bet.
Zona Rosa looked to be a newer outdoor shopping district. There were still lots that were advertising for lease and the area was lain out very ideally with a few park-like areas were you can take pictures or just sit and enjoy the peace of the outdoors. Next year, I don't mind coming back to Zona Rosa as it is a nice area to visit, even if you're just going to walk around and window shop.
Overall, with an amusing car ride from one place to another, we had a lot of fun.
We had had plans to go to the Power and Light District, but currently lounging in the hotel room, we all seem to settled to want to go anywhere else. I don't mind that so much-- I think we've hit the point where just lounging feels good anyway. A nice, almost light turned heavy dinner at Cheesecake Factory, I think has gotten us to exhausted to do anything else.
Food has been great, shopping has been fun, random driving roadtrip is amusing... I'd say that the trip so far is going excellent.
Tomorrow will be the last day and our plans seem to be along the lines of last shopping plus lunch and then whatever else. But it's not set since we like to go with the flow-- itineraries are not for us and may drive us crazy.
Day three of the Kansas City trip-- still going very well.
Day 3 of KC trip - part 1 -- In which sleep was cruel and we prepare to do more shopping
I think the titles of my posts are getting longer.
Anyway, the night stay at hotels have always been dreadful for me. Ever since I was young and went on vacations with my family, I've never been able to sleep well in a hotel room.
Don't get me wrong-- the beds are comfortable to lay on and the rooms are nice, but my stupid mentality just won't let me sleep peacefully. And so I spent the night waking up at intervals. I have a bad case of insomnia to begin with anyway, so that doesn't help.
Sometime during the middle of the night, I woke up and heard some loud screaming and cussing. It could have come from outside-- but we are on the third floor. It could have come from one of the rooms around us, either a television or people. My friend says she heard someone's TV really loudly last night, but I managed to miss it somehow.
I'm a little sleepy right now since I couldn't sleep last night, but I'm sure I'll pep up as soon as we get started.
The day is planned with shopping and then hitting up the Power and Light District tonight.
The weather is very nice since it rained last night.
We are go for more wandering around today.
Anyway, the night stay at hotels have always been dreadful for me. Ever since I was young and went on vacations with my family, I've never been able to sleep well in a hotel room.
Don't get me wrong-- the beds are comfortable to lay on and the rooms are nice, but my stupid mentality just won't let me sleep peacefully. And so I spent the night waking up at intervals. I have a bad case of insomnia to begin with anyway, so that doesn't help.
Sometime during the middle of the night, I woke up and heard some loud screaming and cussing. It could have come from outside-- but we are on the third floor. It could have come from one of the rooms around us, either a television or people. My friend says she heard someone's TV really loudly last night, but I managed to miss it somehow.
I'm a little sleepy right now since I couldn't sleep last night, but I'm sure I'll pep up as soon as we get started.
The day is planned with shopping and then hitting up the Power and Light District tonight.
The weather is very nice since it rained last night.
We are go for more wandering around today.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Day 2 of KC trip -- In which we shop til the cows come home
Technically, it's day one, but I started off day one last night, so this will be day two.
And technically, we really just spent the entire day walking around the Country Club Plaza and Legends mall. They're very nice outdoor areas where lots and lots and lots of department stores are located.
We arrived in Kansas City at approximately 11:30-ish just in time to stop at the Cheesecake Factory for a nice big lunch. And thus that crosses off one of the things that we intended to do on our list. Following, we spent the rest of the morning wander the streets of the Plaza until it was time to check into the hotel.
Lo and behold, the Plaza is currently hosting an Art Fest and we were just in time to watch as people put their booths together. Lots of interesting different kinds of artwork that probably cost more than I can afford to eat within a year. When you find something you like, you're probably best off not touching it and just walking away.
The shopping around the Plaza wasn't quite fruitful and as we dodged ferocious KC drivers, we made our way into those few stores that you don't see in Wichita. Now, we've been to the Plaza before-- it's a very scenic place with lots of statues and lots of flower gardens and lots of stores. It's also an extremely congested area where, no matter where you go, there are cars, people, more cars and then more people. If you're not careful, someone gets run over and due to the amount of traffic, you won't be able to rush out of there fast enough to flee the country.
Anyway, the only shopping we really did today involved a lot of browsing in the Plaza. It wasn't until we hit Legends outdoor mall that we actually started spending money-- aside from dishing out quite an amount for our expensive Cheesecake Factory lunch, which was part of the plan anyway.
At Legends, which is very conveniently located near the Hampton Inn we are staying at in Village West, we walked into lots of factory outlet stores and gleefully basked in the fact that everything was discounted. Signs indicating 30% off, 40% off and 60% off made it so much easier to shop guilt-free.
I am proud to announce that I managed to buy one button up sweater vest for a nicely discounted price from... *drumroll* Banana Republic. The very first item I have ever bought from that place because, well, let's face it, Banana Republic is a very expensive store and is way out of my price range. But I found something and I liked it very much and so I bought it. Yea, restraint wasn't so much in my mind at the time, but that's okay, I tell myself. We are here in KC to shop and spend money.
My friends weren't as lucky until we reached Wilson Leather, a place now extinct from the Wichta scene (unless there's one on the east side of town, but that means nothing to me if there is). More items were bought and then we wandered Legends more until we finally spent the last of our shopping for the day at Books-a-Million.
I've found another cute little children's fantasy to read: Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynn Jones. And also the sequel. All is right in the world-- I've been looking for that book anyway.
But to review:
Day 2: shopping and shopping. We did end up at an Arby's for a nice light dinner amidst the suddenly howling winds. Only in Kansas will the weather suddenly drop twenty degrees and threaten to thunderstorm while it had been nice and sunny only an hour before.
What else....? Ah, yes. Swimming, cold hotel room, and now rest for the night. Tomorrow will be another day of fun shopping.
Day 2 has gone quite well... although, I'm currently a little worried. Being that me and one of the girls came into this trip with a cold, I fear that we have passed on the sickness to our immunocompromised friend who hadn't been sick to begin with. Or maybe it was just cold after we left the pool and it's started to affect.
On a side note, I really like the location of the hotel we are staying at. It's in a very ideal location as this area of Village West includes a Wally World, a bunch of different restaurants and Legends outdoor mall. Too bad we can't get into Great Wolf Lodge-- it's right across the street from our hotel. It would be nice to maybe try to sneak in, but I guess that won't bode well with the staff there.
And technically, we really just spent the entire day walking around the Country Club Plaza and Legends mall. They're very nice outdoor areas where lots and lots and lots of department stores are located.
We arrived in Kansas City at approximately 11:30-ish just in time to stop at the Cheesecake Factory for a nice big lunch. And thus that crosses off one of the things that we intended to do on our list. Following, we spent the rest of the morning wander the streets of the Plaza until it was time to check into the hotel.
Lo and behold, the Plaza is currently hosting an Art Fest and we were just in time to watch as people put their booths together. Lots of interesting different kinds of artwork that probably cost more than I can afford to eat within a year. When you find something you like, you're probably best off not touching it and just walking away.
The shopping around the Plaza wasn't quite fruitful and as we dodged ferocious KC drivers, we made our way into those few stores that you don't see in Wichita. Now, we've been to the Plaza before-- it's a very scenic place with lots of statues and lots of flower gardens and lots of stores. It's also an extremely congested area where, no matter where you go, there are cars, people, more cars and then more people. If you're not careful, someone gets run over and due to the amount of traffic, you won't be able to rush out of there fast enough to flee the country.
Anyway, the only shopping we really did today involved a lot of browsing in the Plaza. It wasn't until we hit Legends outdoor mall that we actually started spending money-- aside from dishing out quite an amount for our expensive Cheesecake Factory lunch, which was part of the plan anyway.
At Legends, which is very conveniently located near the Hampton Inn we are staying at in Village West, we walked into lots of factory outlet stores and gleefully basked in the fact that everything was discounted. Signs indicating 30% off, 40% off and 60% off made it so much easier to shop guilt-free.
I am proud to announce that I managed to buy one button up sweater vest for a nicely discounted price from... *drumroll* Banana Republic. The very first item I have ever bought from that place because, well, let's face it, Banana Republic is a very expensive store and is way out of my price range. But I found something and I liked it very much and so I bought it. Yea, restraint wasn't so much in my mind at the time, but that's okay, I tell myself. We are here in KC to shop and spend money.
My friends weren't as lucky until we reached Wilson Leather, a place now extinct from the Wichta scene (unless there's one on the east side of town, but that means nothing to me if there is). More items were bought and then we wandered Legends more until we finally spent the last of our shopping for the day at Books-a-Million.
I've found another cute little children's fantasy to read: Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynn Jones. And also the sequel. All is right in the world-- I've been looking for that book anyway.
But to review:
Day 2: shopping and shopping. We did end up at an Arby's for a nice light dinner amidst the suddenly howling winds. Only in Kansas will the weather suddenly drop twenty degrees and threaten to thunderstorm while it had been nice and sunny only an hour before.
What else....? Ah, yes. Swimming, cold hotel room, and now rest for the night. Tomorrow will be another day of fun shopping.
Day 2 has gone quite well... although, I'm currently a little worried. Being that me and one of the girls came into this trip with a cold, I fear that we have passed on the sickness to our immunocompromised friend who hadn't been sick to begin with. Or maybe it was just cold after we left the pool and it's started to affect.
On a side note, I really like the location of the hotel we are staying at. It's in a very ideal location as this area of Village West includes a Wally World, a bunch of different restaurants and Legends outdoor mall. Too bad we can't get into Great Wolf Lodge-- it's right across the street from our hotel. It would be nice to maybe try to sneak in, but I guess that won't bode well with the staff there.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Day 1 of KC Trip - In which I prepare for the trip the night before we leave
I know the trip hasn't exactly started yet... and also, who wants who hear about every little thing I do during this little 3 day trip anyway, right?
But I haven't blogged much lately and thought I'd give my writing skills a little whirl this weekend. I used to keep a small notebook with me as a travel journal in the past whenever I went on vacation with the family. But whenever I whip it out and start writing something interesting I'd encountered that day or the day before, my mother would look at me and shake her head. She thinks it's crazy and she can't understand why I like keeping a travel journal.
I simply just like to write about things. Now if I could apply this particular passion for writing into those effing stories I'll never get to finish cause of my recent non-motivation, I'm set.
But anyway, back to the subject.
I've been sick the past few days, which figures since my friends and I have planned this trip for months. The hotel room is booked, some of our itinerary is set which includes the following:
1) Eat at Cheesecake Factory <-- #1 crucial thing to do
2) Go shopping
3) Go shopping
4) Go shopping
5) Visit museums
6) Visit newly finished downtown
The list does not particularly have to be done in that order.
Yea, yea, I know. A bunch of girls going to KC for the shopping. There just happen to be stores in KC that are not in Wichita.
But anyway, as for my cold, my friends should be happy to know that it won't stop me from going on our trip. After the first sign of a runny nose, I started taking medicine. Since this morning, I spent the day snacking on various things just so my body would have the energy to fight. I slept for a few hours after getting home, packed my bag and now I can say that, besides feeling extremely tired, I'm probably better.
Now as tothe question of packing...
It hasn't been until today that I happened to realize just how petty I've become in the area of clothing. For those who used to know me, or who know me today, I don't come off as an image conscious person. Some of my friends have changed that immensely. Whereas I used to throw on any article of clothing I could find that was clean and looked decent, now I actually contemplate what I need to wear for at least ten minutes before throwing on something that doesn't stand out and retain's my reputation of being non-image conscious while showing off some form of casual/preppy fashion. And then I end up putting on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans anyway.
When I started packing tonight, I suddenly realized that I've managed to make an extremely large pile of clothing suitable for a week-long trip. We're only going to Kansas City for three days... two and a half, at most, and most of Friday morning will be spent driving and I will be dressed in a comfy extra-large t-shirt and comfy jeans.
And so I went about trying to eliminating things from my pre-planned packing. It's unfortunate that I've now developed the mindset of: "Well, what if I want to wear something like this." And so the shirt goes back into the "going to KC" pile. Soon after that, as I hang up a button-up shirt I've taken out of my pile, I find another shirt in my closet that is just begging to spend the three hours going to KC. I've added every possible color of tank top that I own for wearing under outfits and I know that half the clothes I take will not be worn. Fortunately, I've narrowed my selection down to what seems to be five or six nice, going out shirts plus a three random t-shirts.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the amount of clothes I normally pack for a trip to Florida with my parents that lasts two weeks. I count the days we'll be on our trip, I put that many articles of clothing into my bag, and then I add about three more extra shirts in case I need an extra change of clothing.
Tonight, I have successfully packed for that very week-long trip.
On top of that, we are going shopping for clothing too.
*sigh*
I'm not sure when it happened that I became so image conscious, but it doesn't bode very well with my self-confidence. As opposed to the days back in high school where t-shirt and jeans were 90% of my wardrobe and I didn't even know what size I wore or how much I weighed, I've suddenly realized that today's me is actually kind of depressing.
No offense to those of you out there who DO give a damn about how you look daily, but I'm finding it kind of troublesome. It's not like I really have anyone to impress and my days are spent going to school, coming home, going to work, coming home, and well, just being a lazy hermit. The public doesn't see me long enough to pay attention that my shirt doesn't match my shoes or something like that.
I miss the old me.
Well, anyway, packing, packing... I'm still packing. I have three specific pairs of comfy jeans that are still in the dryer that I need to take with me, mostly because they are comfy. I still need to make sure I pack all the toiletries necessary and most important of all, I need to make sure that I pack my phone charger-- lately, my retarded cell phone has been running low on batteries only halfway through the day even if I don't use it. My old phone used to last two days before it died on me.
Crackberries are retarded smart phones. I'll never get another one and I'm in the process of looking for my old Nokia cause I really liked it a lot. Not that I'd be able to use it, though since my charger's broken.
Well, off to doing my laundry now so I have jeans to wear this weekend in KC. We leave early tomorrow morning! And while I'm never really one for leaving my house, I always look forward to some trips such as the family vacations we never take anymore due to schedule conflicts and this now traditional trip to KC with my girls.
Otherwise, I really just like being lazy and sitting around at home.
Bright and early tomorrow morning! To Kansas City we go!
But I haven't blogged much lately and thought I'd give my writing skills a little whirl this weekend. I used to keep a small notebook with me as a travel journal in the past whenever I went on vacation with the family. But whenever I whip it out and start writing something interesting I'd encountered that day or the day before, my mother would look at me and shake her head. She thinks it's crazy and she can't understand why I like keeping a travel journal.
I simply just like to write about things. Now if I could apply this particular passion for writing into those effing stories I'll never get to finish cause of my recent non-motivation, I'm set.
But anyway, back to the subject.
I've been sick the past few days, which figures since my friends and I have planned this trip for months. The hotel room is booked, some of our itinerary is set which includes the following:
1) Eat at Cheesecake Factory <-- #1 crucial thing to do
2) Go shopping
3) Go shopping
4) Go shopping
5) Visit museums
6) Visit newly finished downtown
The list does not particularly have to be done in that order.
Yea, yea, I know. A bunch of girls going to KC for the shopping. There just happen to be stores in KC that are not in Wichita.
But anyway, as for my cold, my friends should be happy to know that it won't stop me from going on our trip. After the first sign of a runny nose, I started taking medicine. Since this morning, I spent the day snacking on various things just so my body would have the energy to fight. I slept for a few hours after getting home, packed my bag and now I can say that, besides feeling extremely tired, I'm probably better.
Now as tothe question of packing...
It hasn't been until today that I happened to realize just how petty I've become in the area of clothing. For those who used to know me, or who know me today, I don't come off as an image conscious person. Some of my friends have changed that immensely. Whereas I used to throw on any article of clothing I could find that was clean and looked decent, now I actually contemplate what I need to wear for at least ten minutes before throwing on something that doesn't stand out and retain's my reputation of being non-image conscious while showing off some form of casual/preppy fashion. And then I end up putting on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans anyway.
When I started packing tonight, I suddenly realized that I've managed to make an extremely large pile of clothing suitable for a week-long trip. We're only going to Kansas City for three days... two and a half, at most, and most of Friday morning will be spent driving and I will be dressed in a comfy extra-large t-shirt and comfy jeans.
And so I went about trying to eliminating things from my pre-planned packing. It's unfortunate that I've now developed the mindset of: "Well, what if I want to wear something like this." And so the shirt goes back into the "going to KC" pile. Soon after that, as I hang up a button-up shirt I've taken out of my pile, I find another shirt in my closet that is just begging to spend the three hours going to KC. I've added every possible color of tank top that I own for wearing under outfits and I know that half the clothes I take will not be worn. Fortunately, I've narrowed my selection down to what seems to be five or six nice, going out shirts plus a three random t-shirts.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the amount of clothes I normally pack for a trip to Florida with my parents that lasts two weeks. I count the days we'll be on our trip, I put that many articles of clothing into my bag, and then I add about three more extra shirts in case I need an extra change of clothing.
Tonight, I have successfully packed for that very week-long trip.
On top of that, we are going shopping for clothing too.
*sigh*
I'm not sure when it happened that I became so image conscious, but it doesn't bode very well with my self-confidence. As opposed to the days back in high school where t-shirt and jeans were 90% of my wardrobe and I didn't even know what size I wore or how much I weighed, I've suddenly realized that today's me is actually kind of depressing.
No offense to those of you out there who DO give a damn about how you look daily, but I'm finding it kind of troublesome. It's not like I really have anyone to impress and my days are spent going to school, coming home, going to work, coming home, and well, just being a lazy hermit. The public doesn't see me long enough to pay attention that my shirt doesn't match my shoes or something like that.
I miss the old me.
Well, anyway, packing, packing... I'm still packing. I have three specific pairs of comfy jeans that are still in the dryer that I need to take with me, mostly because they are comfy. I still need to make sure I pack all the toiletries necessary and most important of all, I need to make sure that I pack my phone charger-- lately, my retarded cell phone has been running low on batteries only halfway through the day even if I don't use it. My old phone used to last two days before it died on me.
Crackberries are retarded smart phones. I'll never get another one and I'm in the process of looking for my old Nokia cause I really liked it a lot. Not that I'd be able to use it, though since my charger's broken.
Well, off to doing my laundry now so I have jeans to wear this weekend in KC. We leave early tomorrow morning! And while I'm never really one for leaving my house, I always look forward to some trips such as the family vacations we never take anymore due to schedule conflicts and this now traditional trip to KC with my girls.
Otherwise, I really just like being lazy and sitting around at home.
Bright and early tomorrow morning! To Kansas City we go!
Friday, August 21, 2009
A tale of crawlies
There's a rather small spider that has made it's residence next to the front door of our house. It just kind of sits (or stands, or hangs, or whatever it does) on the wall. Every day I'd see it in a different place in that exact same area. And when I approach to put my shoes on, since that is where our shoes are all congregated, it just remains completely still as if it could blend in with its surroundings.
But I can still see it. It's there, just hanging out. For at least two weeks, it hasn't gone anywhere else but that one area of wall right next to the doorway.
Typically, when I see a spider, it's usually crawling upwards on a wall somewhere right next to my desk in the basement room. And my first reaction is, as always, to utterly exterminate the cretin without hesitation. Grab the bug spray, spray away, then when it plummets a few feet to the carpet where it may or may not be wriggling in the pain of being poisoned by man-made legal murder of animals, I take a rather large sheet of paper towel, crumple it up and then flush it down the toilet.
I'm a scaredy cat when it comes to creep crawlies, even if I don't show it. From experience, when I see them, my reaction isn't slow, but rather my reactions are always begun with a simple, "Remain calm, act tough, if you freak out, you'll just lose sight of it."
Not too long ago, maybe sometime last year, I got to work, probably walked right through a spider web and contracted the resident living there. My co-worker saw it, freaked out, and excitedly pointed out that there was a spider crawling on my shoulder.
"Okay," I told her.
"Hang on, I'll get it off," she tells me. She so grabs some papers and swats at me. Lo and behold, she swats in the wrong direction and instead of falling to the ground it goes down my shirt. And she screams as much, "It went down you shirt!"
"Okay," I say to her. And without jumping or screaming, I calmly reach into my shirt, turn my collar out to find the darn thing and gently swat it away from me and onto the ground. Now I don't quite remember what happened to it next. It could have crawled away, I could have squashed it, or it could have just disappeared behind the table.
But that was when I realized that I could be quite calm when dealing with a spider crawling down my shirt and I was rather impressed with myself. And from that day on, whenever I see spiders, I don't get jumpy like I used to back in high school, but I remain calm and decide the best way to extinguish it. It's just easier so that you don't lose sight of it when you freak out.
But back to the spider on the wall next to my front door.
Yea, it's still there. I don't know why it's still there. I'm surprised that no one else in the house has seen it yet. I've caught the smell of bug spray every so often and wondered if my mother had killed it. But this morning when I stepped downstairs and walked through our tiny receiving area, I noticed that the little creature was still there, this time on the ceiling.
Why haven't I killed it? one may ask. Well, I don't really know. Lack of desire to kill it, probably. I didn't want to deal with it at first, mostly because I'd been in a hurry to get to work the first time I saw it. But afterwards, when it never moved from its spot, I just didn't have the motivation to off it when it's just sitting there and, well, hanging out.
Or maybe I'm just plain too lazy to off it and feel like it hasn't done anything to me, so why bother it.
Sooner or later, it'll probably get found my someone in my household. I don't know why it hasn't yet.
But for now, I just let it hang and actually find myself looking for it whenever I walk by to see if it's still there. And each and every time, it usually is, even if it's in a different spot.
But I can still see it. It's there, just hanging out. For at least two weeks, it hasn't gone anywhere else but that one area of wall right next to the doorway.
Typically, when I see a spider, it's usually crawling upwards on a wall somewhere right next to my desk in the basement room. And my first reaction is, as always, to utterly exterminate the cretin without hesitation. Grab the bug spray, spray away, then when it plummets a few feet to the carpet where it may or may not be wriggling in the pain of being poisoned by man-made legal murder of animals, I take a rather large sheet of paper towel, crumple it up and then flush it down the toilet.
I'm a scaredy cat when it comes to creep crawlies, even if I don't show it. From experience, when I see them, my reaction isn't slow, but rather my reactions are always begun with a simple, "Remain calm, act tough, if you freak out, you'll just lose sight of it."
Not too long ago, maybe sometime last year, I got to work, probably walked right through a spider web and contracted the resident living there. My co-worker saw it, freaked out, and excitedly pointed out that there was a spider crawling on my shoulder.
"Okay," I told her.
"Hang on, I'll get it off," she tells me. She so grabs some papers and swats at me. Lo and behold, she swats in the wrong direction and instead of falling to the ground it goes down my shirt. And she screams as much, "It went down you shirt!"
"Okay," I say to her. And without jumping or screaming, I calmly reach into my shirt, turn my collar out to find the darn thing and gently swat it away from me and onto the ground. Now I don't quite remember what happened to it next. It could have crawled away, I could have squashed it, or it could have just disappeared behind the table.
But that was when I realized that I could be quite calm when dealing with a spider crawling down my shirt and I was rather impressed with myself. And from that day on, whenever I see spiders, I don't get jumpy like I used to back in high school, but I remain calm and decide the best way to extinguish it. It's just easier so that you don't lose sight of it when you freak out.
But back to the spider on the wall next to my front door.
Yea, it's still there. I don't know why it's still there. I'm surprised that no one else in the house has seen it yet. I've caught the smell of bug spray every so often and wondered if my mother had killed it. But this morning when I stepped downstairs and walked through our tiny receiving area, I noticed that the little creature was still there, this time on the ceiling.
Why haven't I killed it? one may ask. Well, I don't really know. Lack of desire to kill it, probably. I didn't want to deal with it at first, mostly because I'd been in a hurry to get to work the first time I saw it. But afterwards, when it never moved from its spot, I just didn't have the motivation to off it when it's just sitting there and, well, hanging out.
Or maybe I'm just plain too lazy to off it and feel like it hasn't done anything to me, so why bother it.
Sooner or later, it'll probably get found my someone in my household. I don't know why it hasn't yet.
But for now, I just let it hang and actually find myself looking for it whenever I walk by to see if it's still there. And each and every time, it usually is, even if it's in a different spot.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Fun Times at the Bar and a lesson to all about bar etiquette
To tone down my previous emo blog, here's a fun little read.
I was bartender on Saturday night for a small wedding and did quite well with it on tips. Enough to last me a couple lunches for the next two weeks. I spent the entire evening shaking up my version of a Sex on the Beach mixed drink and dunking my fingers into cherries, as it is what I use as garnish for that particular drink. So when I got home that night, my fingers were stained red.
Interesting times.
Apparently Sex on the Beach was quite popular. I don't know how many times I'd made the drink the entire night, but I know that it should have been a little over fifty of them, or more, even. Otherwise, there were sparse requests for "what kind of shots do you know how to make?" of which the answer was, "I'm sorry, I really don't know any fun shots." And then there was the usual, rum and cokes, vodka cranberries, and a mostly import beer.
I have to admit that I like bartending. It's fun... but I don't like socializing. It requires a certain type of skill that I don't have. It's called talking to people, randomly, with smiles, and without being a bore. I'm not good at that. I can barely talk to my own friends with smiles and without being a bore. But it's okay, because I'm not trying to sell THEM anything or trying to earn tips from them.
But anyway, the night was quite fruitful. When people get drunk enough, they really probably don't care that their bartender is scowling or frowning. They just see the liquor. Quite awesome.
On a side note, I about got pummelled by a 27 year old woman who took great offense at the fact that I needed to see her ID to confirm that she was indeed old enough to drink. She threw a fit. She went to her husband and she demanded that we overlook it. Her husband tried to vouch for her, but you know, a policy is a policy.
"But she's my wife and she's twenty-seven," he insisted.
"Tell them," she urged, practically pouting. I could almost see steam coming out of her ears and her face turning red.
We could only continue to say, "If you don't have your ID, we can't serve you. Sorry."
Begrudgingly, she left the room so that she could go and get her driver's liscence from her car. She was not happy and when she returned, she practically shoved the ID in my face like I was her mortal enemy.
My boss kept telling me that when she returned, I'd have to apologize profusely and simply repeat that we have to card everyone and that it's actually a compliment to be carded. I simply nodded, but conveniently forgot to apologize for asking for her ID.
You come to a bar and want a drink. You look rather young, it's a given that you'll get carded. I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. At least four other women were extremely ecstatic that I carded them and thanked me and tipped me big for it.
For anyone out there who don't understand or who like to make problems for bartenders, please don't. You don't know how much is left in the bartender's responsibility, both morally and legally. If someone underage is being served, it's the bartender's fault-- and it doesn't matter whether or not the bartender had served that underage person in the first place. It could have been a hand-off from someone else who was old enough to procure the alcoholic beverage for said minor.
If there is an accident involving alcohol, the bartender who last served that person is legally at fault. Because a bartender is morally bound to know when to stop serving their extremely inebriated customers. Again, it doesn't matter if someone else came to the bartender to buy a drink and then followed by handing it over to the already 0.45 BAC, completely drunk individual.
The bartender has been told that he/she is morally obligated to make the right decision when serving customers.
It's not fair. I don't like it. You can't control other people. But the burden always comes back to the bartender.
So I implore people: if you are asked for you ID at any place that serves alcohol, don't get offended. It's not to make things hard on you, it's policy and its the law. You can call it a means to save our own asses under legal obligation because it really is. Take it as a compliment. We are subject to ask for identification if someone does not look like he or she is over the age of thirty. If you are asked for your ID, then that means you look young enough to get carded.
I'm twenty-five years old. When I don't get carded, that's when I get offended... but only playfully.
Please don't make things any harder. Don't shoot the messenger. Legal dealings and actions are at stake. We are only doing our jobs.
Secondly, don't keep pestering the bartender about adding "just a little more alcohol" to your drink. Depending on the place, a company policy may or may not be controlling how much alocohol is mixed into a drink, depending on how much it is worth to the company. If we give you more, we get in trouble and the extra money has to come out of our own pockets. If you want a double shot, be willing to pay for the extra shot. If you think the alcohol is too expensive, then don't buy any.
In hospitality, we work to appease, but only within reason.
In summary:
When you are carded, don't get offended and don't take out your anger on the person carding you. It's a compliment. I'm always ready to be carded. And who comes up to a bar without ID anyway-- I don't think the laws have changed just because you're at a hotel and you're attending a friend's wedding. Bars card everywhere.
When you go to a bar, don't pester the bartender... remmeber who's mixing your drink.
To add onto it... we don't tell you how to run your life, so don't tell us how to do our jobs. We are trained.
And while I'm on the subject, sneaking alcohol into a bar has always been a no-no. You don't go to a restaurant and bring your own food, so don't come into a bar and bring your own alcohol. What's the point?
I especially love the ones who bring their own cans of Bud Light when there is free beer at the bar. At those, I really just laugh. Funny people.
I was bartender on Saturday night for a small wedding and did quite well with it on tips. Enough to last me a couple lunches for the next two weeks. I spent the entire evening shaking up my version of a Sex on the Beach mixed drink and dunking my fingers into cherries, as it is what I use as garnish for that particular drink. So when I got home that night, my fingers were stained red.
Interesting times.
Apparently Sex on the Beach was quite popular. I don't know how many times I'd made the drink the entire night, but I know that it should have been a little over fifty of them, or more, even. Otherwise, there were sparse requests for "what kind of shots do you know how to make?" of which the answer was, "I'm sorry, I really don't know any fun shots." And then there was the usual, rum and cokes, vodka cranberries, and a mostly import beer.
I have to admit that I like bartending. It's fun... but I don't like socializing. It requires a certain type of skill that I don't have. It's called talking to people, randomly, with smiles, and without being a bore. I'm not good at that. I can barely talk to my own friends with smiles and without being a bore. But it's okay, because I'm not trying to sell THEM anything or trying to earn tips from them.
But anyway, the night was quite fruitful. When people get drunk enough, they really probably don't care that their bartender is scowling or frowning. They just see the liquor. Quite awesome.
On a side note, I about got pummelled by a 27 year old woman who took great offense at the fact that I needed to see her ID to confirm that she was indeed old enough to drink. She threw a fit. She went to her husband and she demanded that we overlook it. Her husband tried to vouch for her, but you know, a policy is a policy.
"But she's my wife and she's twenty-seven," he insisted.
"Tell them," she urged, practically pouting. I could almost see steam coming out of her ears and her face turning red.
We could only continue to say, "If you don't have your ID, we can't serve you. Sorry."
Begrudgingly, she left the room so that she could go and get her driver's liscence from her car. She was not happy and when she returned, she practically shoved the ID in my face like I was her mortal enemy.
My boss kept telling me that when she returned, I'd have to apologize profusely and simply repeat that we have to card everyone and that it's actually a compliment to be carded. I simply nodded, but conveniently forgot to apologize for asking for her ID.
You come to a bar and want a drink. You look rather young, it's a given that you'll get carded. I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. At least four other women were extremely ecstatic that I carded them and thanked me and tipped me big for it.
For anyone out there who don't understand or who like to make problems for bartenders, please don't. You don't know how much is left in the bartender's responsibility, both morally and legally. If someone underage is being served, it's the bartender's fault-- and it doesn't matter whether or not the bartender had served that underage person in the first place. It could have been a hand-off from someone else who was old enough to procure the alcoholic beverage for said minor.
If there is an accident involving alcohol, the bartender who last served that person is legally at fault. Because a bartender is morally bound to know when to stop serving their extremely inebriated customers. Again, it doesn't matter if someone else came to the bartender to buy a drink and then followed by handing it over to the already 0.45 BAC, completely drunk individual.
The bartender has been told that he/she is morally obligated to make the right decision when serving customers.
It's not fair. I don't like it. You can't control other people. But the burden always comes back to the bartender.
So I implore people: if you are asked for you ID at any place that serves alcohol, don't get offended. It's not to make things hard on you, it's policy and its the law. You can call it a means to save our own asses under legal obligation because it really is. Take it as a compliment. We are subject to ask for identification if someone does not look like he or she is over the age of thirty. If you are asked for your ID, then that means you look young enough to get carded.
I'm twenty-five years old. When I don't get carded, that's when I get offended... but only playfully.
Please don't make things any harder. Don't shoot the messenger. Legal dealings and actions are at stake. We are only doing our jobs.
Secondly, don't keep pestering the bartender about adding "just a little more alcohol" to your drink. Depending on the place, a company policy may or may not be controlling how much alocohol is mixed into a drink, depending on how much it is worth to the company. If we give you more, we get in trouble and the extra money has to come out of our own pockets. If you want a double shot, be willing to pay for the extra shot. If you think the alcohol is too expensive, then don't buy any.
In hospitality, we work to appease, but only within reason.
In summary:
When you are carded, don't get offended and don't take out your anger on the person carding you. It's a compliment. I'm always ready to be carded. And who comes up to a bar without ID anyway-- I don't think the laws have changed just because you're at a hotel and you're attending a friend's wedding. Bars card everywhere.
When you go to a bar, don't pester the bartender... remmeber who's mixing your drink.
To add onto it... we don't tell you how to run your life, so don't tell us how to do our jobs. We are trained.
And while I'm on the subject, sneaking alcohol into a bar has always been a no-no. You don't go to a restaurant and bring your own food, so don't come into a bar and bring your own alcohol. What's the point?
I especially love the ones who bring their own cans of Bud Light when there is free beer at the bar. At those, I really just laugh. Funny people.
Emo moments come so often when you're a jerk
I'm losing it. And I'm a horrible person. And if you've got better things to do than to hear me rant it out about my selfishness, you might as well just stop here. Seriously, no one needs to see this ugly side of me. But if you wish to continue, just bear with me.
It's very simple. I think I'm beginning to lose my grasp on "giving a damn" about a lot of things and a lot of people. I have no compassion for people, no matter who it is. Sure, I can be a friendly person-- I've spent my entire life being a very pleasantly friendly person. I treat others with respect and I maintain that as long as I don't wrong others, they will not wrong me.
I've spent my entire life being the obedient daughter, a kind sister, a caring friend... But I'm not quite sure where that's leading me.
My friends are great. I will not deny that. They listen, they care, and they don't turn their backs on me. I'm eternally grateful, because without them, I would never be able to escape from everything else.
But at home, things are so much different.
I've spent my childhood being a filial child. Whenever mom and dad say jump, I really do say "how high?" I don't talk back, I do as I'm told, and I try so, so, so, so, so hard to please them on many, many occasions. I do my best in school, try to make good grades, clean house, clean my room, do my laundry, babysit.
But what does all of that mean in the end?
I means that Dad can march right up to me and tell me that I never help out around the house. It means that Dad can come to me and tell me that I need to start thinking about others, mainly my mother, and start helping her with the cooking and cleaning. It means that, in contrast, my brothers can sit around all effing day long, watch movies, play on their computers, and no one ever questions that. It means that my dad would rather not trouble my brothers to mow the lawn or help put together a bookshelf and so he'll do it himself while giving me a disappointed look every so often because I didn't volunteer my help. It means that if I don't initiate help around the house, I'm a horrible daughter, but my brothers don't even have to lift a finger and still be their pride and joys.
That's what it all means.
Every year I'm the one who goes out and buys the Christmas cards, birthday cards, Mother's day, Father's day, and any other fine occasion. It's because I'm thinking of my parents and I want to give them something and yet I don't have the money to buy them anything fancy. A card tells them that I'm thinking about them.
But my brother can come home one time and buy them a 22 inch flat screen television and they're bragging about it all over town. My brother can treat them to dinner just that one time in five years and they're beaming with pride.
I know I have no right to complain. I'm spoiled. I live at home without worries of paying rent or bills. My parents will flaunt the fact that I have a Bachelor's degree to some people. My parents will supply daily necessities for my use. My parents will foot the bill for everything that I need.
I'm ashamed to say that I'm still unsatisfied. Maybe I shouldn't be saying things like that. I'm a spoiled rotten child. I don't live on the streets and I don't have to shop at economy stores for anything.
Maybe I'm just trying to find a reason vent my frustration that I've never been the favorite child. Maybe I'm just trying to make a reason for myself to become angry with someone. Maybe I'm just giving myself a justification for how irrationally incompassionate I am about people.
Because, frankly, when it comes to situations wherein one should show a bit of feeling... I just don't really give a damn.
My dad's been organizing and reorganizing and cleaning the basement all morning. I haven't bothered to lend a helping hand. And on top of that, it's driving me crazy that somehow, he's still managing to find things to do that's making a racket... as if he's telling me, "This is not my job. This is your job. You should be cleaning the house as the only girl in this family. But instead of telling you to your face, I'm just going to make noises and hope that you feel like a bad daughter for not even bothering." Yea... that's what I'm hearing. Am I crazy? Well, let's not answer that question, cause we already know the answer.
The last draw would have been when my brother came to me to tell me that my father has been bitching about household funds to him. Apparentely, my brother (who makes much more money than me regularly) thinks that I should pay back my parents what money I've borrowed for school as soon as I can, while I'm still trying to pay off the rest of my school on my meager servant's salary of $2.35/hour plus gratuities that may or may not amount to about a hundred dollars biweekly per pay check.
He thinks that I should NOT be borrowing money from my parents for school. I didn't want to tell him that I've paid for all of my school on my own except for two thousand dollars of which I really needed to complete last semester's tuition payment. I didn't want to tell him that between me and the rest of my lovely brothers, I probably borrow the least amount of money from mom and dad.
And I didn't want to tell him that Dad's been bitching to me about house hold finances since the first time my brother's credit card debt amount came in to perspective.
It's not all me, kid. If you feel like you need to repay our parents, you go right ahead. I have no money right now. Leave me out of it. When I finally land myself a good job, of which I have all the confidence I will, then I'll start handing over checks to my parents monthly, just like my elder brother does.
I'm not a moocher, even if I am a bitch and asshole. I will do my part.
But do not come to me an demand that I pay back a percentage of what I've borrowed from the parents. Because in which case, let my just go out to that magical little money tree and harvest it for a couple hundred dollars. Right?
I'm done. My apologies to anyone who has made it this far. I'm just done.
It's very simple. I think I'm beginning to lose my grasp on "giving a damn" about a lot of things and a lot of people. I have no compassion for people, no matter who it is. Sure, I can be a friendly person-- I've spent my entire life being a very pleasantly friendly person. I treat others with respect and I maintain that as long as I don't wrong others, they will not wrong me.
I've spent my entire life being the obedient daughter, a kind sister, a caring friend... But I'm not quite sure where that's leading me.
My friends are great. I will not deny that. They listen, they care, and they don't turn their backs on me. I'm eternally grateful, because without them, I would never be able to escape from everything else.
But at home, things are so much different.
I've spent my childhood being a filial child. Whenever mom and dad say jump, I really do say "how high?" I don't talk back, I do as I'm told, and I try so, so, so, so, so hard to please them on many, many occasions. I do my best in school, try to make good grades, clean house, clean my room, do my laundry, babysit.
But what does all of that mean in the end?
I means that Dad can march right up to me and tell me that I never help out around the house. It means that Dad can come to me and tell me that I need to start thinking about others, mainly my mother, and start helping her with the cooking and cleaning. It means that, in contrast, my brothers can sit around all effing day long, watch movies, play on their computers, and no one ever questions that. It means that my dad would rather not trouble my brothers to mow the lawn or help put together a bookshelf and so he'll do it himself while giving me a disappointed look every so often because I didn't volunteer my help. It means that if I don't initiate help around the house, I'm a horrible daughter, but my brothers don't even have to lift a finger and still be their pride and joys.
That's what it all means.
Every year I'm the one who goes out and buys the Christmas cards, birthday cards, Mother's day, Father's day, and any other fine occasion. It's because I'm thinking of my parents and I want to give them something and yet I don't have the money to buy them anything fancy. A card tells them that I'm thinking about them.
But my brother can come home one time and buy them a 22 inch flat screen television and they're bragging about it all over town. My brother can treat them to dinner just that one time in five years and they're beaming with pride.
I know I have no right to complain. I'm spoiled. I live at home without worries of paying rent or bills. My parents will flaunt the fact that I have a Bachelor's degree to some people. My parents will supply daily necessities for my use. My parents will foot the bill for everything that I need.
I'm ashamed to say that I'm still unsatisfied. Maybe I shouldn't be saying things like that. I'm a spoiled rotten child. I don't live on the streets and I don't have to shop at economy stores for anything.
Maybe I'm just trying to find a reason vent my frustration that I've never been the favorite child. Maybe I'm just trying to make a reason for myself to become angry with someone. Maybe I'm just giving myself a justification for how irrationally incompassionate I am about people.
Because, frankly, when it comes to situations wherein one should show a bit of feeling... I just don't really give a damn.
My dad's been organizing and reorganizing and cleaning the basement all morning. I haven't bothered to lend a helping hand. And on top of that, it's driving me crazy that somehow, he's still managing to find things to do that's making a racket... as if he's telling me, "This is not my job. This is your job. You should be cleaning the house as the only girl in this family. But instead of telling you to your face, I'm just going to make noises and hope that you feel like a bad daughter for not even bothering." Yea... that's what I'm hearing. Am I crazy? Well, let's not answer that question, cause we already know the answer.
The last draw would have been when my brother came to me to tell me that my father has been bitching about household funds to him. Apparentely, my brother (who makes much more money than me regularly) thinks that I should pay back my parents what money I've borrowed for school as soon as I can, while I'm still trying to pay off the rest of my school on my meager servant's salary of $2.35/hour plus gratuities that may or may not amount to about a hundred dollars biweekly per pay check.
He thinks that I should NOT be borrowing money from my parents for school. I didn't want to tell him that I've paid for all of my school on my own except for two thousand dollars of which I really needed to complete last semester's tuition payment. I didn't want to tell him that between me and the rest of my lovely brothers, I probably borrow the least amount of money from mom and dad.
And I didn't want to tell him that Dad's been bitching to me about house hold finances since the first time my brother's credit card debt amount came in to perspective.
It's not all me, kid. If you feel like you need to repay our parents, you go right ahead. I have no money right now. Leave me out of it. When I finally land myself a good job, of which I have all the confidence I will, then I'll start handing over checks to my parents monthly, just like my elder brother does.
I'm not a moocher, even if I am a bitch and asshole. I will do my part.
But do not come to me an demand that I pay back a percentage of what I've borrowed from the parents. Because in which case, let my just go out to that magical little money tree and harvest it for a couple hundred dollars. Right?
I'm done. My apologies to anyone who has made it this far. I'm just done.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Three Weeks of Relaxing Brain Mush
No, this has nothing to do with a horrific new Quentin Tarentino movie or the like.
My summer class has just come to an end and I realize that I haven't blogged since the beginning of summer. But that's okay cause it's not like much has happened anyway. Between Clinical Microbiology, Parisitology, and Mycology, I've learned that people are safer living in a bubble and having absolutely no fun at all because no matter what you do, you CAN contract some form of bacterial disease or a nasty parasite wherein you spend the rest of your life bed-ridden or hospitalized.
So, so horrible. So everyone just go home now and start building a fort and stock up on lots of bleach, phenol, and well... whatever else that's needed.
LOL
As if... I don't think life would be as fascinating if I couldn't have my raw octopus sushi every so often. And my closest friend would murder if she was told she had to eat all of her steaks cooked to cardboard form.
But anyway, I just checked my grade for the class and I'm fairly content. I didn't get the 'A' that I had been hoping for. That's my fault cause I really should have tried studying more for the first test, because had that grade been a little higher, then I might have hit the borderline for an 'A' and I would at least feel good about it. I managed a high 'B' percent on the last test which then landed me a high 'B' percent in the class overall.
I'm content with it, but not ecstatic. Had I tried harder, I think results would have been different, but I got lazy and so it's my own damn fault that I didn't get that 'A' I wanted so badly.
But anyway again, in other news, everyone seems to be taking a few weeks off during this time as well. While I sit at home and allow my brain to turn into mush for a while before remolding at the end of the month, so are my brothers and my parents. Well, actually, the parental units are only taking a few days off at a time cause they couldn't take more than that, but they're still home and I'm still going to hear it from them regularly.
AT LEAST there's one thing I don't have to hear from them anymore:
As of yesterday evening, my friend and I have begun a rather vigorous exercise regimen wherein we kill ourselves slowly with 3 mile walks, 2 hour tennis playing in the hot beating sun, and another hour of going to the gym.
You know, image has never been an issue for me, but being obese and out of shape has been bothering me for the past few years and I find myself wondering when I ended up becoming so self-conscious about it. I mean, it's not like I was never self-conscious-- since the beginning of time, I've always had low self-esteem.
Growing up with parents who consistently, without fail, compare you to all three of your brothers and be told that you're fat on a regular basis and be told that you're a useless little girl if you don't learn how to cook, clean, take out the trash, babysit the boys, and be an eternal slave did NOTHING to help my already diminishing self-dignity. On top of that, you make friends with some of the smartest girls in school, spend your childhood known as "the crybaby" and are always afraid of what everyone thinks about you to the point that life holds no meaning anymore.
It was fun times until I hit high school and realized that I really did not care what anyone else thought. Truth be told, I followed in my older brother's footsteps for a while until I realized how stupid and retard that particular ideal was. My brother is not a god and has made more mistakes than any normal human being should be allowed. And through him, I learned that I really don't want to be just like him (set aside the fact that he is a male and I am not).
I stopped caring. My parents continued to tell me that I'm fat and slow and clumsy and useless. I continued my epic journey to prove them wrong by being an over-achiever and surpassing everyone in everything if I could manage it.
Okay, so I didn't quit caring what my parents thought about me, but that can't be helped since I've lived in my family's shadow my entire life.
But the fact of the matter was, as far as image goes, I never cared. I don't have a clue how much I weighed back in high school. I don't know what size pants I fit into and I did not care that all of my clothes came from the men's section of a clearance blowout from Venture two years prior. I did what I liked with my own preppy and casual "fashion". Life was so simple.
And then, somehow, after reaching college (as the only official child in this family still in college, then and now) I stopped caring even more. I've proven my point. My brother dropped out of college cause he couldn't handle it and I managed to stay in college... but because there was no more reason to prove to my parents that I'm the smartest person in this family, I just quit trying. No drive, no results. I wasn't even acknowledged anyway, and somehow, my brother was still their pride and joy.
My older brother is a very smart person. A genius, even, if he had simply been able to apply himself. He's successful now with a great position, a good paying job, and he has oodles of experience to back him up. I know this and I can finally acknowledge this-- college does not make one smarter and I feel it actually makes one dumber and more arrogant. I hate myself so much that it sucks.
Anyway, somewhere along the lines of that time period, I began to realize that my self-image was actually quite important to me. I learned from one doctor's office visit that I am way overweight and still gaining. This made me confused at first and then it made me frustrated.
How did I never feel that I was overweight? How did I never realize that I don't fit into my old clothes like I used to? And why is it that now that I've realized how fat I am, I just keep gaining and gaining? Every shirt is tighter now, every pair of jeans does not fit anymore, and food just makes me realize how much of a pig I am-- despite the fact that I still eat it all like its water.
So here I am, trying my best to get rid of all of this excessive weight that's ruined my perfectly good "I don't care about my image" reputation. I care now because I'd like to be able to fit into clothes without looking funny and without going through the XXX-large section every time. And I'd also like my parents to quit telling me that I'm fat and that I need to lose weight, but hey, have another piece of cake, it'll make you feel better.
Say what?
Whatever, I'm just listening to broken records.
Anyway, now that that's out, I need to jump back into my original subject... of which I don't even remember after having ranted my heart out to the world.
Well, I actually do have three weeks off until the Fall semester begins. Pending my work schedule, I think I'll spend a lot of my time going out with my friend and doing out work-outs. It's not like I have anything else to do, really.
And on top of that, even though I said that I'd let my brain turn into mush, I think I'lll end up pulling out my Blood Bank notes and reviewing them a little before classes start again. I need all the studying I can get, because we all know that I'm a useless, stupid, overweight slave girl.
Case closed: as soon as I'm done with this program, I'm seeking employment out of state so that I don't end up blowing my fat stupid brains out, which will happen if I continue to live under my parents' roof and under their constant scrutination of how I do things and why don't act more like my brothers.
One of these days, I hope that they realize that I AM their daughter and NOT their son and that if I am told that I'm fat and need to lose weight one more time, I might scream.
My summer class has just come to an end and I realize that I haven't blogged since the beginning of summer. But that's okay cause it's not like much has happened anyway. Between Clinical Microbiology, Parisitology, and Mycology, I've learned that people are safer living in a bubble and having absolutely no fun at all because no matter what you do, you CAN contract some form of bacterial disease or a nasty parasite wherein you spend the rest of your life bed-ridden or hospitalized.
So, so horrible. So everyone just go home now and start building a fort and stock up on lots of bleach, phenol, and well... whatever else that's needed.
LOL
As if... I don't think life would be as fascinating if I couldn't have my raw octopus sushi every so often. And my closest friend would murder if she was told she had to eat all of her steaks cooked to cardboard form.
But anyway, I just checked my grade for the class and I'm fairly content. I didn't get the 'A' that I had been hoping for. That's my fault cause I really should have tried studying more for the first test, because had that grade been a little higher, then I might have hit the borderline for an 'A' and I would at least feel good about it. I managed a high 'B' percent on the last test which then landed me a high 'B' percent in the class overall.
I'm content with it, but not ecstatic. Had I tried harder, I think results would have been different, but I got lazy and so it's my own damn fault that I didn't get that 'A' I wanted so badly.
But anyway again, in other news, everyone seems to be taking a few weeks off during this time as well. While I sit at home and allow my brain to turn into mush for a while before remolding at the end of the month, so are my brothers and my parents. Well, actually, the parental units are only taking a few days off at a time cause they couldn't take more than that, but they're still home and I'm still going to hear it from them regularly.
AT LEAST there's one thing I don't have to hear from them anymore:
As of yesterday evening, my friend and I have begun a rather vigorous exercise regimen wherein we kill ourselves slowly with 3 mile walks, 2 hour tennis playing in the hot beating sun, and another hour of going to the gym.
You know, image has never been an issue for me, but being obese and out of shape has been bothering me for the past few years and I find myself wondering when I ended up becoming so self-conscious about it. I mean, it's not like I was never self-conscious-- since the beginning of time, I've always had low self-esteem.
Growing up with parents who consistently, without fail, compare you to all three of your brothers and be told that you're fat on a regular basis and be told that you're a useless little girl if you don't learn how to cook, clean, take out the trash, babysit the boys, and be an eternal slave did NOTHING to help my already diminishing self-dignity. On top of that, you make friends with some of the smartest girls in school, spend your childhood known as "the crybaby" and are always afraid of what everyone thinks about you to the point that life holds no meaning anymore.
It was fun times until I hit high school and realized that I really did not care what anyone else thought. Truth be told, I followed in my older brother's footsteps for a while until I realized how stupid and retard that particular ideal was. My brother is not a god and has made more mistakes than any normal human being should be allowed. And through him, I learned that I really don't want to be just like him (set aside the fact that he is a male and I am not).
I stopped caring. My parents continued to tell me that I'm fat and slow and clumsy and useless. I continued my epic journey to prove them wrong by being an over-achiever and surpassing everyone in everything if I could manage it.
Okay, so I didn't quit caring what my parents thought about me, but that can't be helped since I've lived in my family's shadow my entire life.
But the fact of the matter was, as far as image goes, I never cared. I don't have a clue how much I weighed back in high school. I don't know what size pants I fit into and I did not care that all of my clothes came from the men's section of a clearance blowout from Venture two years prior. I did what I liked with my own preppy and casual "fashion". Life was so simple.
And then, somehow, after reaching college (as the only official child in this family still in college, then and now) I stopped caring even more. I've proven my point. My brother dropped out of college cause he couldn't handle it and I managed to stay in college... but because there was no more reason to prove to my parents that I'm the smartest person in this family, I just quit trying. No drive, no results. I wasn't even acknowledged anyway, and somehow, my brother was still their pride and joy.
My older brother is a very smart person. A genius, even, if he had simply been able to apply himself. He's successful now with a great position, a good paying job, and he has oodles of experience to back him up. I know this and I can finally acknowledge this-- college does not make one smarter and I feel it actually makes one dumber and more arrogant. I hate myself so much that it sucks.
Anyway, somewhere along the lines of that time period, I began to realize that my self-image was actually quite important to me. I learned from one doctor's office visit that I am way overweight and still gaining. This made me confused at first and then it made me frustrated.
How did I never feel that I was overweight? How did I never realize that I don't fit into my old clothes like I used to? And why is it that now that I've realized how fat I am, I just keep gaining and gaining? Every shirt is tighter now, every pair of jeans does not fit anymore, and food just makes me realize how much of a pig I am-- despite the fact that I still eat it all like its water.
So here I am, trying my best to get rid of all of this excessive weight that's ruined my perfectly good "I don't care about my image" reputation. I care now because I'd like to be able to fit into clothes without looking funny and without going through the XXX-large section every time. And I'd also like my parents to quit telling me that I'm fat and that I need to lose weight, but hey, have another piece of cake, it'll make you feel better.
Say what?
Whatever, I'm just listening to broken records.
Anyway, now that that's out, I need to jump back into my original subject... of which I don't even remember after having ranted my heart out to the world.
Well, I actually do have three weeks off until the Fall semester begins. Pending my work schedule, I think I'll spend a lot of my time going out with my friend and doing out work-outs. It's not like I have anything else to do, really.
And on top of that, even though I said that I'd let my brain turn into mush, I think I'lll end up pulling out my Blood Bank notes and reviewing them a little before classes start again. I need all the studying I can get, because we all know that I'm a useless, stupid, overweight slave girl.
Case closed: as soon as I'm done with this program, I'm seeking employment out of state so that I don't end up blowing my fat stupid brains out, which will happen if I continue to live under my parents' roof and under their constant scrutination of how I do things and why don't act more like my brothers.
One of these days, I hope that they realize that I AM their daughter and NOT their son and that if I am told that I'm fat and need to lose weight one more time, I might scream.
Friday, June 19, 2009
New rant... Parents... Ugh... skip if you have better things to do
Okay, so I'm wondering how well some other people know their own kids. I used to wonder whether it was just me and that no matter what I tell anyone, nobody listens. But then I realized, I'm not always around everyone else, and everyone else still manages to remember some details of what I say. I can't blame them if they don't remember either, because they aren't family and they aren't my parents. Everyone else is not obligated to know me and who I am.
Although I don't give much faith that any of my friends really know who I am. This includes everyone, best friend no exception. Because I'm simply a very private person who doesn't say much about myself. Sure, I'll rant about current news and what's bothering me, but I rarely tell people things that can be significant, but also insignificant at the same time.
I mention the second paragraph (as I skew off the subject of this post) because when I mentioned my little "How Well Do You Know Anita Truong?" quiz on Facebook, no one seemed too ecstatic about taking it except for my classmates who barely know me and who wouldn't be able to get a high score even if they tried. One of them got an eighty percent because she cheated and already knew the answers to a lot of them. And because I gave away a couple freebies.
Yea, my closest friend almost seemed like she was struggling to know the answers to my quiz questions, so instead of making her feel uncomfortable, I smoothly transitioned with: "Well, one of the questions was, 'What is my favorite movie?'... and the answer, of course, is 'Love Actually.'"
Of course, I guess I could have gone and thrown in questions that my closest friends would be more likely to answer correctly, but what fun would that be? I could have asked questions like: "How many brothers do I have?" or "True or False: I graduated valedictorian in high school." or "At what age did I first drink alcohol?" and stuff like that that all of my closest friends would know. Of course, the answer to that last one is a mystery even to me, because even though I never truly started drinking alcohol knowingly until I was twenty-one, I also remember having a sip of my father's beer when I was a little girl and feeling revolted by it. How old was I when that happened? I really can't remember. But the penultimate answer, as far as anyone else knows, is twenty-one.
The fact of the matter is still that, a lot of people don't really know the real me. Some people learn aspects about me pretty quickly because I present that aspect openly. A lot of people, close friends included, don't know that I'm always listening to corny music in three different languages; that I love to write romantic comedies with specific plots and specific types of characters that aren't really that popular; that I love to read amateur romantic comedy stories on Fictionpress.com about young adults; that I am an avid and obsessed fan of the shoujo genre of manga because of all the fluffy and romantic, chicken soup for the hopeless romantic's soul type of stories with a tinge of comedy; that fall for guys easily and still do, but continue to play off the fact that I'm a future spinster in the making; that I'm completely clueless about life, about love, about relationships, about friendships, and about everything, and yet I'm really good at acting like I know what you're talking about; that the only reason I keep claiming that I don't need a boyfriend is still because of my low self-esteem and the fact that no one finds me interesting enough to ask me out, and just because I acted like an ass once towards a guy who could have been a great boyfriend doesn't mean that I'll do the same to every other guy.
I mean, while I'm on this second detoured rant: I am twenty-five years old and I've never dated in my entire life. I don't know how it works; I don't know how the relationship, boyfriend-girlfriend thing works, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to react. My hormones are behind my own age and I'm still stuck in the times when, if a guy was interested, he'd try to chase you, he'd ask you out, and he'd do what he can to let you know that he's interested, or even tell you that he's interested. For me, NO ONE MAN has ever told me that he was interested in me.
I mean, is it really my responsibility to make sure that if I go on a blind date that I have to call him, and I have to show, with signs and flashing neon lights, that I'm interested. I show my feelings and emotions much different than every other girl on this planet. I don't know how to flirt, I don't know how to talk to people, and I'm just clueless. But after only one phone conversation, it was already decided that I wasn't interested.
Well, just like the darned movie, maybe he just wasn't that into me.
My friends know that I'm a clueless romantic. I can see it happening in the movies and to other people, but when it's me, it goes right over my head. And I don't want to read the signs all wrong and make a fool of myself. I've asked a guy out before and after the so called lunch "date" was told that he wasn't interested in me. I haven't seen him since.
I spent time over a year flirting with a guy over the internet in private, even though I knew he had a girlfriend, was a friend of my brothers, and I wouldn't have a chance if hell froze over; and then he threw it all back in my face when he claimed that I was the one who did all the flirting and that he was merely responding. And so gave the idea of "flirting" the boot to the curb and decided that I would never do it again unless I really liked someone and knew I'd have a chance.
And then I spent a year crushing on another guy who was not good for me only to have my closest friend ask him about me during one drunken party just to find out for me that he's not interested, of which I had already known. I had a crush on a gay friend, I had a crush on many jerks, and eventually I fell for the guy who was my blind date to begin with, of which everyone tells me that I blew off and so lost my chance.
While I admit that I hadn't been attracted to him at first, that doesn't mean that I wasn't interested, and I sure as hell hadn't blown him off. And if I did, I don't know how I had done it. I really do like him now and I know it's my own fault that it hadn't worked out. But the fact of the matter was, we had spent a total of two times doing stuff that seemed related to dating: we went out bowling with friends as the meeting, and then he called and we talked for a while. After that... well, nothing.
I'm dense when it comes to talking to people, and I just think he wasn't really that intereted in me in the first place to give up so easily.
Then again, I don't know how this stuff works anyway.
But getting back on track after two detours, today's post was really supposed to be about me ranting about how my parents never remember anything that I tell them, but will always remember everything that my brothers have to do without them having to tell them. It's also about how my parents still don't know my likes and dislikes after so many years of living under the same roof together. That just goes to show that just because you're family doesn't mean that you know better than other people.
My mother will remember when my older brother comes in from his most recent business trip down to the exact time; they'll remember tennis games for my little brother, and they remember when my other brother has to work and when he gets off work and what days he has off. They remember a lot of that stuff.
I go to school Monday through Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning, each of those days. I usually work on weekends during the evening. I will even tell my parents that same exact week what my schedule looks like and which days I work and which days I don't work. I will tell them about parties that I'm going to on certain days. But on Friday mornings, it does not fail: "Anita, you don't have school today?" "Anita, you don't work today?"
And they will also rememember when my brothers have their own parties to go to. Well, when I inform them ahead of time that I have one too, they seem to conveniently forget.
They have always known that my younger brother prefers egg noodles over rice noodles, but conveniently forget that I prefer rice noodles over egg noodles and claim that I've always eaten egg noodles when clearly I've always ordered the rice noodle dishes when we go out to lunch. My parents know that my elder brother cannot stand heat and so the air conditioning comes on in full blast. They know my brother's friends without effort, and they know what kind of cakes and ice creams that they prefer.
For me: my parents have never made an effort to get to know my friends. When my older brother had a birthday, his friends had been invited over, everyone says happy birthday to him, everyone knows its his birthday. We all sit around the kitchen table and do all the birthday stuff and my parents are social with my brother's friends. The very next day when my birthday rolls around and my best friend comes to hang out with me, everyone hides. My father stays in his bedroom clicking around on the internet, my brother's remain down in the basement playing their video games, and so it's just me, my best friend, and then my mother singing happy birthday to me and cutting the cake with me and taking pictures.
I'd be lying that that day hadn't upset me. I even fel compelled to apologize to my best friend for my father's behavior, for the rest of my family's act of staying away. I expressed to her that I was upset that none of my family felt that my birthday was important enough to spend with me for a few minutes by cutting the cake. And that just because I have a friend over doesn't mean that everyone can act like assholes.
I was upset that time. I really was.
My parents know about the dates and girlfriends that my elder brother has had. My parents have been kind to all of my older brother's friends. But I don't invite my friends over anymore because my parents are rude to them by hiding.
On average, I probably talk to my parents in civil conversation more often than my brothers do. On average, I probably do special things for my parents more than my brothers do. Sure, the older brother paid for a new flat screen with a TV stand and everything to go with it. Sure, the older brother takes them out to eat often. But every year, I'm the one who buys Christmas cards, birthday cards, Father's Day cards, Mother's Day cards... all of it, and then I sign all of their names because they're too busy to bother with it.
You know... I think by now, I'm done with it all. After this year, I'm done. No more cards will be bought. My mother's birthday will be the last and then I'm done. I'm tired of being the considerate one, yet no one will be considerate towards me. I mean, I suggest hanging out and going out to eat. But my brothers are so wrapped up in their games and their sleeping, and their own fun and their own convenience that we often don't leave for dinner in time to make it to nice places and have to settle for what's left. My brother's spend my parents money endlessly like they have a right, but when I do it once, everyone jumps on my case.
I'm tired of being the one overlooked.
My parents don't seem to know me. My parents don't understand me, and they sure as hell don't seem like they're going to make an effort either.
It's like they have selective hearing or something, but it's a tad annoying.
But anyway, this post has gotten longer and more whiny than I'd expected. I really hadn't intended to become the spoiled and dramatic "woe is me" character that I despise so much. I apologize to anyone who's gotten this far in the post because you've put up with a lot already. I can be very whiney when I get started, and for all I know, it's probably not as bad as my state of mind is making it sound right now. I mean, maybe I just need to build a bridge and get over it, because my life doesn't suck and I have no rights to complain to anyone at all. I have no rights to complain period. I'm just a whiny baby and I'll learn to get over it, because there's no other way.
And I have to leave for work in the next seven minutes. So well, if I decide to rant again, I guess it'll be part two.
Today I get to soak myself in cigar smoke. I'll be crankier and have a bigger headache than usual.
Although I don't give much faith that any of my friends really know who I am. This includes everyone, best friend no exception. Because I'm simply a very private person who doesn't say much about myself. Sure, I'll rant about current news and what's bothering me, but I rarely tell people things that can be significant, but also insignificant at the same time.
I mention the second paragraph (as I skew off the subject of this post) because when I mentioned my little "How Well Do You Know Anita Truong?" quiz on Facebook, no one seemed too ecstatic about taking it except for my classmates who barely know me and who wouldn't be able to get a high score even if they tried. One of them got an eighty percent because she cheated and already knew the answers to a lot of them. And because I gave away a couple freebies.
Yea, my closest friend almost seemed like she was struggling to know the answers to my quiz questions, so instead of making her feel uncomfortable, I smoothly transitioned with: "Well, one of the questions was, 'What is my favorite movie?'...
Of course, I guess I could have gone and thrown in questions that my closest friends would be more likely to answer correctly, but what fun would that be? I could have asked questions like: "How many brothers do I have?" or "True or False: I graduated valedictorian in high school." or "At what age did I first drink alcohol?" and stuff like that that all of my closest friends would know. Of course, the answer to that last one is a mystery even to me, because even though I never truly started drinking alcohol knowingly until I was twenty-one, I also remember having a sip of my father's beer when I was a little girl and feeling revolted by it. How old was I when that happened? I really can't remember. But the penultimate answer, as far as anyone else knows, is twenty-one.
The fact of the matter is still that, a lot of people don't really know the real me. Some people learn aspects about me pretty quickly because I present that aspect openly. A lot of people, close friends included, don't know that I'm always listening to corny music in three different languages; that I love to write romantic comedies with specific plots and specific types of characters that aren't really that popular; that I love to read amateur romantic comedy stories on Fictionpress.com about young adults; that I am an avid and obsessed fan of the shoujo genre of manga because of all the fluffy and romantic, chicken soup for the hopeless romantic's soul type of stories with a tinge of comedy; that fall for guys easily and still do, but continue to play off the fact that I'm a future spinster in the making; that I'm completely clueless about life, about love, about relationships, about friendships, and about everything, and yet I'm really good at acting like I know what you're talking about; that the only reason I keep claiming that I don't need a boyfriend is still because of my low self-esteem and the fact that no one finds me interesting enough to ask me out, and just because I acted like an ass once towards a guy who could have been a great boyfriend doesn't mean that I'll do the same to every other guy.
I mean, while I'm on this second detoured rant: I am twenty-five years old and I've never dated in my entire life. I don't know how it works; I don't know how the relationship, boyfriend-girlfriend thing works, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to react. My hormones are behind my own age and I'm still stuck in the times when, if a guy was interested, he'd try to chase you, he'd ask you out, and he'd do what he can to let you know that he's interested, or even tell you that he's interested. For me, NO ONE MAN has ever told me that he was interested in me.
I mean, is it really my responsibility to make sure that if I go on a blind date that I have to call him, and I have to show, with signs and flashing neon lights, that I'm interested. I show my feelings and emotions much different than every other girl on this planet. I don't know how to flirt, I don't know how to talk to people, and I'm just clueless. But after only one phone conversation, it was already decided that I wasn't interested.
Well, just like the darned movie, maybe he just wasn't that into me.
My friends know that I'm a clueless romantic. I can see it happening in the movies and to other people, but when it's me, it goes right over my head. And I don't want to read the signs all wrong and make a fool of myself. I've asked a guy out before and after the so called lunch "date" was told that he wasn't interested in me. I haven't seen him since.
I spent time over a year flirting with a guy over the internet in private, even though I knew he had a girlfriend, was a friend of my brothers, and I wouldn't have a chance if hell froze over; and then he threw it all back in my face when he claimed that I was the one who did all the flirting and that he was merely responding. And so gave the idea of "flirting" the boot to the curb and decided that I would never do it again unless I really liked someone and knew I'd have a chance.
And then I spent a year crushing on another guy who was not good for me only to have my closest friend ask him about me during one drunken party just to find out for me that he's not interested, of which I had already known. I had a crush on a gay friend, I had a crush on many jerks, and eventually I fell for the guy who was my blind date to begin with, of which everyone tells me that I blew off and so lost my chance.
While I admit that I hadn't been attracted to him at first, that doesn't mean that I wasn't interested, and I sure as hell hadn't blown him off. And if I did, I don't know how I had done it. I really do like him now and I know it's my own fault that it hadn't worked out. But the fact of the matter was, we had spent a total of two times doing stuff that seemed related to dating: we went out bowling with friends as the meeting, and then he called and we talked for a while. After that... well, nothing.
I'm dense when it comes to talking to people, and I just think he wasn't really that intereted in me in the first place to give up so easily.
Then again, I don't know how this stuff works anyway.
But getting back on track after two detours, today's post was really supposed to be about me ranting about how my parents never remember anything that I tell them, but will always remember everything that my brothers have to do without them having to tell them. It's also about how my parents still don't know my likes and dislikes after so many years of living under the same roof together. That just goes to show that just because you're family doesn't mean that you know better than other people.
My mother will remember when my older brother comes in from his most recent business trip down to the exact time; they'll remember tennis games for my little brother, and they remember when my other brother has to work and when he gets off work and what days he has off. They remember a lot of that stuff.
I go to school Monday through Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning, each of those days. I usually work on weekends during the evening. I will even tell my parents that same exact week what my schedule looks like and which days I work and which days I don't work. I will tell them about parties that I'm going to on certain days. But on Friday mornings, it does not fail: "Anita, you don't have school today?" "Anita, you don't work today?"
And they will also rememember when my brothers have their own parties to go to. Well, when I inform them ahead of time that I have one too, they seem to conveniently forget.
They have always known that my younger brother prefers egg noodles over rice noodles, but conveniently forget that I prefer rice noodles over egg noodles and claim that I've always eaten egg noodles when clearly I've always ordered the rice noodle dishes when we go out to lunch. My parents know that my elder brother cannot stand heat and so the air conditioning comes on in full blast. They know my brother's friends without effort, and they know what kind of cakes and ice creams that they prefer.
For me: my parents have never made an effort to get to know my friends. When my older brother had a birthday, his friends had been invited over, everyone says happy birthday to him, everyone knows its his birthday. We all sit around the kitchen table and do all the birthday stuff and my parents are social with my brother's friends. The very next day when my birthday rolls around and my best friend comes to hang out with me, everyone hides. My father stays in his bedroom clicking around on the internet, my brother's remain down in the basement playing their video games, and so it's just me, my best friend, and then my mother singing happy birthday to me and cutting the cake with me and taking pictures.
I'd be lying that that day hadn't upset me. I even fel compelled to apologize to my best friend for my father's behavior, for the rest of my family's act of staying away. I expressed to her that I was upset that none of my family felt that my birthday was important enough to spend with me for a few minutes by cutting the cake. And that just because I have a friend over doesn't mean that everyone can act like assholes.
I was upset that time. I really was.
My parents know about the dates and girlfriends that my elder brother has had. My parents have been kind to all of my older brother's friends. But I don't invite my friends over anymore because my parents are rude to them by hiding.
On average, I probably talk to my parents in civil conversation more often than my brothers do. On average, I probably do special things for my parents more than my brothers do. Sure, the older brother paid for a new flat screen with a TV stand and everything to go with it. Sure, the older brother takes them out to eat often. But every year, I'm the one who buys Christmas cards, birthday cards, Father's Day cards, Mother's Day cards... all of it, and then I sign all of their names because they're too busy to bother with it.
You know... I think by now, I'm done with it all. After this year, I'm done. No more cards will be bought. My mother's birthday will be the last and then I'm done. I'm tired of being the considerate one, yet no one will be considerate towards me. I mean, I suggest hanging out and going out to eat. But my brothers are so wrapped up in their games and their sleeping, and their own fun and their own convenience that we often don't leave for dinner in time to make it to nice places and have to settle for what's left. My brother's spend my parents money endlessly like they have a right, but when I do it once, everyone jumps on my case.
I'm tired of being the one overlooked.
My parents don't seem to know me. My parents don't understand me, and they sure as hell don't seem like they're going to make an effort either.
It's like they have selective hearing or something, but it's a tad annoying.
But anyway, this post has gotten longer and more whiny than I'd expected. I really hadn't intended to become the spoiled and dramatic "woe is me" character that I despise so much. I apologize to anyone who's gotten this far in the post because you've put up with a lot already. I can be very whiney when I get started, and for all I know, it's probably not as bad as my state of mind is making it sound right now. I mean, maybe I just need to build a bridge and get over it, because my life doesn't suck and I have no rights to complain to anyone at all. I have no rights to complain period. I'm just a whiny baby and I'll learn to get over it, because there's no other way.
And I have to leave for work in the next seven minutes. So well, if I decide to rant again, I guess it'll be part two.
Today I get to soak myself in cigar smoke. I'll be crankier and have a bigger headache than usual.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Fate, fat, me, and a new health regimen
I assume that the Fates are against me no matter what I try to do, but I will stick to this new "diet" plan and I will at least look good in something from Maurices this Saturday for my "birthday" gathering. In keeping with trying to lose weight (which is an ongoing struggle involving me, my parents, and good food) I've promised myself that this summer I will try to eat healthy as a means to at least not gain anymore than I already have. Exercise is beyond me since I'm a lazy ass and my school schedule doesn't leave much room for me to do much physical activities.
I did however, promise my friend that we would go on her three mile, treacherous journey in the park every weekend. I don't know if I have just signed my death certificate or not, cause I'm at least able to make it around and back alive without wheezing.
My exercise plan has always been, no exercise more vigorous than walking up and down a set of stairs.
But anyway, I started my day by eating breakfast, since apparently eating breakfast is a good way to make sure you don't eat too much dinner, which is a good way of making sure that you can digest everything throughout the day instead of cramming it all together at night and hoping that something digests before you go to sleep. And so, even though it wasn't a big breakfast, I still ate something: yogurt. Yeah, I know, it's not a big deal and nothing to write home about. But I've gotten so used to not eating breakfast that I now feel queasy because I did eat breakfast today.
It's not part of my usual consumption so it's starting to confuse my body.
Following breakfast, I had put together a few things for lunch: some leftover pasta from Red Beans and Bayou Grill, a small dose of peanut butter, and one apple. I managed to finish eighty percent of my apple with the peanut butter smeared on before I began to feel full. I forced myself to finish the rest of my apple and a good portion of the peanut butter and I now continue to feel queasy. I didn't even bother to touch the leftover pasta and may end up throwing that, plus the rest of the portion of my leftovers that I left at home, away into the trash.
Peanut butter is freakishly filling and I think I know how I'm going to control my diet now. I don't think that peanut butter is going to completely fatten me up if I eat it all the time, but I know I'll probably end up getting sick of it easily.
This only means that I need to come up with other lunch ideas.
In other news, I'm turning twenty-five next week and I feel much older than that.
In school I've just begun the "new semester" but the summer semester really doesn't start until two weeks from today. But I'm already in class and cramming new material and listening to noisy classmates talk about nothing in particular. Every so often, someone will yell out something random and only one out of ten times is it actually something humorous enough to make me chuckle to myself. Other times it's just annoying and you don't know whether to laugh or to roll your eyes; I probably do the latter without realizing it.
But it's okay, because I'm good at selective hearing and I sometimes chose to think that I don't know or care about what's going on anyway. Life in class is beginning anew once again, and it just feels like the end is not very far away even though there is still so much to go through.
Anyway, well, there's little else to mention. My new "diet" plan is going to annoy me and make me cranky, because they always do. On top of that, my friend has always been so stuck on her ideas that her ideas of a good "diet" regimen is going to get on my nerves. Friends who are head strong are so hard to talk to if you really don't want to piss them off.
I did however, promise my friend that we would go on her three mile, treacherous journey in the park every weekend. I don't know if I have just signed my death certificate or not, cause I'm at least able to make it around and back alive without wheezing.
My exercise plan has always been, no exercise more vigorous than walking up and down a set of stairs.
But anyway, I started my day by eating breakfast, since apparently eating breakfast is a good way to make sure you don't eat too much dinner, which is a good way of making sure that you can digest everything throughout the day instead of cramming it all together at night and hoping that something digests before you go to sleep. And so, even though it wasn't a big breakfast, I still ate something: yogurt. Yeah, I know, it's not a big deal and nothing to write home about. But I've gotten so used to not eating breakfast that I now feel queasy because I did eat breakfast today.
It's not part of my usual consumption so it's starting to confuse my body.
Following breakfast, I had put together a few things for lunch: some leftover pasta from Red Beans and Bayou Grill, a small dose of peanut butter, and one apple. I managed to finish eighty percent of my apple with the peanut butter smeared on before I began to feel full. I forced myself to finish the rest of my apple and a good portion of the peanut butter and I now continue to feel queasy. I didn't even bother to touch the leftover pasta and may end up throwing that, plus the rest of the portion of my leftovers that I left at home, away into the trash.
Peanut butter is freakishly filling and I think I know how I'm going to control my diet now. I don't think that peanut butter is going to completely fatten me up if I eat it all the time, but I know I'll probably end up getting sick of it easily.
This only means that I need to come up with other lunch ideas.
In other news, I'm turning twenty-five next week and I feel much older than that.
In school I've just begun the "new semester" but the summer semester really doesn't start until two weeks from today. But I'm already in class and cramming new material and listening to noisy classmates talk about nothing in particular. Every so often, someone will yell out something random and only one out of ten times is it actually something humorous enough to make me chuckle to myself. Other times it's just annoying and you don't know whether to laugh or to roll your eyes; I probably do the latter without realizing it.
But it's okay, because I'm good at selective hearing and I sometimes chose to think that I don't know or care about what's going on anyway. Life in class is beginning anew once again, and it just feels like the end is not very far away even though there is still so much to go through.
Anyway, well, there's little else to mention. My new "diet" plan is going to annoy me and make me cranky, because they always do. On top of that, my friend has always been so stuck on her ideas that her ideas of a good "diet" regimen is going to get on my nerves. Friends who are head strong are so hard to talk to if you really don't want to piss them off.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Self-discovery and some reminiscing of a sort
It's Memorial Day weekend and school starts again tomorrow. I've yet to even think about how I'm going to go about organizing my class work this summer, but I know it's going to be vigorous.
I'm turning twenty five next week and I lose my insurance with my parents. Fortunately for me, I've bought myself some more of that nifty insurance stuff that I probably don't even need anyway because I rarely get myself seriously hurt or sick enough that I have to see a doctor. I see my doctor maybe once a year for annual check-ups. Otherwise, I don't even see the doctor's parking lot at all for a long time. My immune system is in tip-top shape, and I can take care of myself just fine when I get sick.
But back to my utterly insignificant ramblings...
A lot of thoughts come into your mind when you least expect them to. For me, they happen when you've got a lot to think about and a lot of time to let your mind think. Random things come to mind whenever I simply sit and play Minesweeper on the computer. Even more random thoughts happen as I'm showering.
Worse yet, today I've realized just how much of a caring and compassionate person that I... well, that I'm not.
It's Memorial Day weekend and it's a chance for all families to get together, visit the graves and have a picnic or barbeque. I go walking with my friend, then I visit my grandparents' graves with my family and everything feels so obligated and meaningless.
For a few dull, odd minutes, my parents debated over which side of grandma's nameplate to stand on to be correct. To the side, an old man stood before another grave and bowed his head in respect as he was probably thinking about old times and remembering things about his deceased loved one. Back to grandma's grave, my parents are now discussing my grandmother's true age because, after all, let's face it, all Asian women who'd come to America will falsify their age at some point in time. And apparently, my grandmother was one of them.
Dad wanted to make sure we knew that.
After our simple little visit, we walked away and my parents end up discussing why there's a particular tombstone that is shaped oddly like a bench with only one name inscribed into it. My dad conveniently points out that another grave nearby belongs to the guy of the same name on the bench and Mom wonders why someone would want to put a bench in the middle of a cemetery anyway.
Dad says that people donate to the funeral home and get their names carved in places. For instance, some trees were donated and little plaques are set up next to them to indicate exactly who had done this nice deed for the home.
So there's my lovely little life in a nutshell of reminiscing about deceased loved ones. To make matters more interesting, the one major thing that I actually notice about my grandfather's grave when he'd visited him (at another cemetery earlier) was that his tombstone was leaning very far forward. But it's okay, right? Because all of the other tombstones are also leaning very far forward.
Dad says it's to make them look ancient or to depict which graves are older than others.
But you know, I'm not sure how much of what Dad said today was really just guesses, cause I'm sure landscaping has a lot to do with how the tombstones are put down...
But anyway, enough about depressing cemetery conversation between my parents.
In a nutshell, it just seems as if I found the conversation much more amusing over realizing that Memorial Day is supposed to have meaning behind it. Instead, I find no meaning behind anything anymore.
I've discussed this with my friend. There are no holidays out there that have any meaning for me. None of them actually do anything for me at all. Nothing holds meaning for me and it's not just about the holidays or whatnot.
I've found that sometimes I can be completely indifferent to my friends' cries for attention and help. Sometimes whenever they talk, I just don't care. Whenever some other acquaintances seem to have issues piling up in their laps, I just don't care. Whenever people I know seem to be breaking down and having a hard time... well, again, I simply just don't care.
I don't care enough to listen and I don't care enough to offer my condolences, nonetheless offer a shoulder to cry on or a false promise of "Let me know what I can do to help you." Because sometimes those words are said hollowly anyway and you expect that 99 percent of the time, you won't be told if there's really something that you can do to help.
I don't offer any of that because I know for a fact that there is never anything that can be done to help or to make things better.
And in my mind, people love to lay out their problems to the world anyway. I've always said it: People love to glorify their misery. Drama is a true best friend to many, especially a lot of women. It's a sad thing to admit, but it's the truth. But don't get me started on that soap box of opinions.
Simply put, I'm just a horrible, horrible little person.
I mean, just the other day, I was talking to my best friend and telling her about that guy I have a crush on who has a girlfriend. I'm a bad person when it comes to dating and I'm not quite sure that I'll ever be ready to take on relationships of the romantic, intimate kind. But my exact words to my best friend had been, "Is it bad that I'm waiting for them to break up?"
Oh yea, I'm a horrible person. I really do like him, but I barely know him. And I think he's a great guy and because he has a girlfriend, I don't ever want to hear about it. I just like to hear that he's single and willing to hang out with friends regularly. But I just don't like hearing about his girlfriend and I'm wanting them to break up. The most horrible part of this situation, however, is the fact that even if he breaks up, he won't be interested in dating me and if he is, I don't know how I owuld handle it.
I definitely won't be the one doing anything to make things happen.
So, in the end, I'm just a horrible, unsympathetic, incompassionate jerk. It's great, we have so much fun being assholes.
I'm turning twenty five next week and I lose my insurance with my parents. Fortunately for me, I've bought myself some more of that nifty insurance stuff that I probably don't even need anyway because I rarely get myself seriously hurt or sick enough that I have to see a doctor. I see my doctor maybe once a year for annual check-ups. Otherwise, I don't even see the doctor's parking lot at all for a long time. My immune system is in tip-top shape, and I can take care of myself just fine when I get sick.
But back to my utterly insignificant ramblings...
A lot of thoughts come into your mind when you least expect them to. For me, they happen when you've got a lot to think about and a lot of time to let your mind think. Random things come to mind whenever I simply sit and play Minesweeper on the computer. Even more random thoughts happen as I'm showering.
Worse yet, today I've realized just how much of a caring and compassionate person that I... well, that I'm not.
It's Memorial Day weekend and it's a chance for all families to get together, visit the graves and have a picnic or barbeque. I go walking with my friend, then I visit my grandparents' graves with my family and everything feels so obligated and meaningless.
For a few dull, odd minutes, my parents debated over which side of grandma's nameplate to stand on to be correct. To the side, an old man stood before another grave and bowed his head in respect as he was probably thinking about old times and remembering things about his deceased loved one. Back to grandma's grave, my parents are now discussing my grandmother's true age because, after all, let's face it, all Asian women who'd come to America will falsify their age at some point in time. And apparently, my grandmother was one of them.
Dad wanted to make sure we knew that.
After our simple little visit, we walked away and my parents end up discussing why there's a particular tombstone that is shaped oddly like a bench with only one name inscribed into it. My dad conveniently points out that another grave nearby belongs to the guy of the same name on the bench and Mom wonders why someone would want to put a bench in the middle of a cemetery anyway.
Dad says that people donate to the funeral home and get their names carved in places. For instance, some trees were donated and little plaques are set up next to them to indicate exactly who had done this nice deed for the home.
So there's my lovely little life in a nutshell of reminiscing about deceased loved ones. To make matters more interesting, the one major thing that I actually notice about my grandfather's grave when he'd visited him (at another cemetery earlier) was that his tombstone was leaning very far forward. But it's okay, right? Because all of the other tombstones are also leaning very far forward.
Dad says it's to make them look ancient or to depict which graves are older than others.
But you know, I'm not sure how much of what Dad said today was really just guesses, cause I'm sure landscaping has a lot to do with how the tombstones are put down...
But anyway, enough about depressing cemetery conversation between my parents.
In a nutshell, it just seems as if I found the conversation much more amusing over realizing that Memorial Day is supposed to have meaning behind it. Instead, I find no meaning behind anything anymore.
I've discussed this with my friend. There are no holidays out there that have any meaning for me. None of them actually do anything for me at all. Nothing holds meaning for me and it's not just about the holidays or whatnot.
I've found that sometimes I can be completely indifferent to my friends' cries for attention and help. Sometimes whenever they talk, I just don't care. Whenever some other acquaintances seem to have issues piling up in their laps, I just don't care. Whenever people I know seem to be breaking down and having a hard time... well, again, I simply just don't care.
I don't care enough to listen and I don't care enough to offer my condolences, nonetheless offer a shoulder to cry on or a false promise of "Let me know what I can do to help you." Because sometimes those words are said hollowly anyway and you expect that 99 percent of the time, you won't be told if there's really something that you can do to help.
I don't offer any of that because I know for a fact that there is never anything that can be done to help or to make things better.
And in my mind, people love to lay out their problems to the world anyway. I've always said it: People love to glorify their misery. Drama is a true best friend to many, especially a lot of women. It's a sad thing to admit, but it's the truth. But don't get me started on that soap box of opinions.
Simply put, I'm just a horrible, horrible little person.
I mean, just the other day, I was talking to my best friend and telling her about that guy I have a crush on who has a girlfriend. I'm a bad person when it comes to dating and I'm not quite sure that I'll ever be ready to take on relationships of the romantic, intimate kind. But my exact words to my best friend had been, "Is it bad that I'm waiting for them to break up?"
Oh yea, I'm a horrible person. I really do like him, but I barely know him. And I think he's a great guy and because he has a girlfriend, I don't ever want to hear about it. I just like to hear that he's single and willing to hang out with friends regularly. But I just don't like hearing about his girlfriend and I'm wanting them to break up. The most horrible part of this situation, however, is the fact that even if he breaks up, he won't be interested in dating me and if he is, I don't know how I owuld handle it.
I definitely won't be the one doing anything to make things happen.
So, in the end, I'm just a horrible, unsympathetic, incompassionate jerk. It's great, we have so much fun being assholes.
Monday, May 18, 2009
The last final this semester and an Elvis impersonator
I worked as a bartender on Saturday and ended up watching the most interesting form of entertainment for a group of fifty chiropractors. After listening to a short speech by Miss Kansas, of whom I did not recognize, but thought had the weirdest looking skirt and funniest looking crown, the group got an Elvis impersonator to perform for them.
So I usually have no problems with entertainment and singing entertainment. Not everyone is good, but he wasn't a bad singer. And I don't really know Elvis that well, but I've heard his music even if I'm not really a fan.
However, where my bar was set up including how the stage was set up, I had the most unfortunate angle to view the Elvis impersonator and his... less than left to the imagination pants. Spotlights and white clothing equals a bad combination. Let's just say I spent a good amount of time averting my eyes from him. And those pants should never go into fashion again.
Yea... I'm not that much of a fan of the guy, impersonator or not.
But enough of that.
This morning I'm taking my last final of the semester. Whoop-dee, it's almost over... well, for a few days and then school starts up again in a week. All is cool, but because my boss found out that I have a week off, I'm practically working every day.
That's fine, my friend will be home soon and I'll hopefully get to hang out with her at least once before the summer semester starts. On top of that, my twenty-fifth is coming up in two weeks, right dab smack in the middle of the two week pre-session of a vigorous class. And then I lose my insurance coverage, so I need to get something new from the school.
At least there is ONE thing to look forward to: I've asked my friend to make me a strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting as her birthday present to me and she agreed. I'll be happily chowing down on that and, well, being happy. I love cake and I haven't had strawberry cake in a while. This will be nice.
There are other things I'd love to get as well, but that's for the future when we all actually have money. Right now, we just perservere with what we have.
So I usually have no problems with entertainment and singing entertainment. Not everyone is good, but he wasn't a bad singer. And I don't really know Elvis that well, but I've heard his music even if I'm not really a fan.
However, where my bar was set up including how the stage was set up, I had the most unfortunate angle to view the Elvis impersonator and his... less than left to the imagination pants. Spotlights and white clothing equals a bad combination. Let's just say I spent a good amount of time averting my eyes from him. And those pants should never go into fashion again.
Yea... I'm not that much of a fan of the guy, impersonator or not.
But enough of that.
This morning I'm taking my last final of the semester. Whoop-dee, it's almost over... well, for a few days and then school starts up again in a week. All is cool, but because my boss found out that I have a week off, I'm practically working every day.
That's fine, my friend will be home soon and I'll hopefully get to hang out with her at least once before the summer semester starts. On top of that, my twenty-fifth is coming up in two weeks, right dab smack in the middle of the two week pre-session of a vigorous class. And then I lose my insurance coverage, so I need to get something new from the school.
At least there is ONE thing to look forward to: I've asked my friend to make me a strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting as her birthday present to me and she agreed. I'll be happily chowing down on that and, well, being happy. I love cake and I haven't had strawberry cake in a while. This will be nice.
There are other things I'd love to get as well, but that's for the future when we all actually have money. Right now, we just perservere with what we have.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
You know those days I used to sleep...
So it's Mother's Day and I can't quite feel my arms or my back. I hate to say things like this when it's a significant holiday, but I am seriously in lots of pain at the moment. My arms are literally threatening to fall off and I'm wondering if it isn't because I stayed up most of the night to do homework...
Well, it's my own fault really. If I hadn't spent all Friday being a bum then I could've been done with my take home final already. Instead, I spent my day half working on it and half playing around in virtual reality. And now I've barely skimmed the bulk of my work. On top of that I have a test tomorrow that I'm freaking out about for some reason despite it being mostly a common sense subject and I won't have time the rest of today to do any studying nonetheless finish that take home final.
And then there're all my other finals to think about. I shall not be sleeping because only one of those finals are even remotely dreamably doable.
Yea... Sleep will not be in my near future but at least I get to take four days to myself the following week. Although I did stupidly inform my boss that I would be available during that time. That just means that I'm asking to be put to work which I am definitely not.
I'm so tired and cranky right now.
Well, it's my own fault really. If I hadn't spent all Friday being a bum then I could've been done with my take home final already. Instead, I spent my day half working on it and half playing around in virtual reality. And now I've barely skimmed the bulk of my work. On top of that I have a test tomorrow that I'm freaking out about for some reason despite it being mostly a common sense subject and I won't have time the rest of today to do any studying nonetheless finish that take home final.
And then there're all my other finals to think about. I shall not be sleeping because only one of those finals are even remotely dreamably doable.
Yea... Sleep will not be in my near future but at least I get to take four days to myself the following week. Although I did stupidly inform my boss that I would be available during that time. That just means that I'm asking to be put to work which I am definitely not.
I'm so tired and cranky right now.
But enough of the woes...
Friday, May 8, 2009
Plans... but not really
I actually have a Friday off from work this week, which I would be completely ecstatic about if I didn't have finals coming up. It also doesn't help that the one person I would normally be hanging out with is in Louisiana right now. I can't exactly take my own road trip to Louisiana just to hang out for the night. By the time I get there, I'll have to turn around and come right back because even with Friday night off, I still have to work on Saturday.
So as a means to remain as productive as possible, I've made my own stay-at-home plans to sit in one place all night and do some studying. I have one take home final to finish up, which will probably take a couple hours cause it's really long. And then I have a test to skim notes for on Monday. And then Finals will begin to conquer my life next week.
I've already told my friends that I won't be very present in the following week... or for the next few weeks... months... even the rest of the year. I will be buried beneath text books and they'll be wondering whether or not I'm still alive enough to hang out. And if so, will I become cranky all of a sudden.
At work, I've been run ragged from those groups of people who think that banquet servers are like magic and can teleport from one end of the hallway to another within seconds. And I swear, I think one of those women last night thought I had more than two hands, because she kept trying to hand me her dirty plate even though I was already carrying more than my share of stuff.
People never cease to amuse me.
And then there are those coworkers who simply don't know when to stop talking about their personal lives. Well, it's fine if you want to vent... but really now, some times too much information is too much information and I'd rather not be listening to certain things. Makes you feel a little awkard. And then you don't know what to say and silence ensues.
And then we change the subject to "So I saw the funniest thing yesterday" to which you try and claw at some random humorous event you may or may not have seen, be it yesterday or not. It's okay, amusing things happen regularly. There's bound to be something you can tell your friends about to make the awkward silence go away before someone shoots someone else.
In other news, my dad has gone into ultra monetary nag mode once again and I have to start thinking about how I shall pay both my parents back for all the money I've spent of their's since the beginning of my life. It's like he thinks that I can just pull some wads of hundred dollar bills out of my ass and hand it to him. Really now, my dead beat job doesn't even pay enough for me to be handing out hundreds of dollars... even for fun.
And my younger brother who makes more money than I do at his job thinks that I have money to "pay back" my parents for stuff. I really, really wanted to punch him. I think I wanted to punch him more when he asked me whether or not I'm sure I'd be finding a job after this Med Tech program is over and done with. You know, because according to him, all med techs do the exact same thing anyway, so why do we need so many of them? Two can handle a lab right? I really, really, really about punched him then.
The little prick has always been a bit arrogant just because he has a nice full-time job with good benefits and I don't. I guess he forgot to consider that he had gotten his nice little full-time job with good benefits through connection. Basically, my older brother said, let him work here... and they did. My older brother never did something like that for me. The little prick didn't even have to go for an interview and was hired on because he was recommended by one of company's favorite whipping boys.
And me... through connection, I got a dead beat, $2.35/hr plus gratuities job where you can either have no hours, be run to death, or sit around and make money. Take your pick, I hate working with customers and pretending that I'm a cheery, happy-go-lucky person, but it's all I got right now. I'm not ungrateful that my uncle connected me, but this is not exactly a real job, and I didn't even have an interview. And so I'm not going around gloating about it as if I were better than my brother who has a nicer job.
I really, really feel like hitting him sometimes.
But anyway, all of this is relative.
In a perfect life, my ideal job would be where I sit at my desk all day long, write stories, review all sorts of stuff and make money from it. I like to just sit and write, but of course, this isn't a perfect world and if it were, it would probably bore me to death.
I'm so, so hard to please despite being an easily amused person-- those are two different things anyway.
So as a means to remain as productive as possible, I've made my own stay-at-home plans to sit in one place all night and do some studying. I have one take home final to finish up, which will probably take a couple hours cause it's really long. And then I have a test to skim notes for on Monday. And then Finals will begin to conquer my life next week.
I've already told my friends that I won't be very present in the following week... or for the next few weeks... months... even the rest of the year. I will be buried beneath text books and they'll be wondering whether or not I'm still alive enough to hang out. And if so, will I become cranky all of a sudden.
At work, I've been run ragged from those groups of people who think that banquet servers are like magic and can teleport from one end of the hallway to another within seconds. And I swear, I think one of those women last night thought I had more than two hands, because she kept trying to hand me her dirty plate even though I was already carrying more than my share of stuff.
People never cease to amuse me.
And then there are those coworkers who simply don't know when to stop talking about their personal lives. Well, it's fine if you want to vent... but really now, some times too much information is too much information and I'd rather not be listening to certain things. Makes you feel a little awkard. And then you don't know what to say and silence ensues.
And then we change the subject to "So I saw the funniest thing yesterday" to which you try and claw at some random humorous event you may or may not have seen, be it yesterday or not. It's okay, amusing things happen regularly. There's bound to be something you can tell your friends about to make the awkward silence go away before someone shoots someone else.
In other news, my dad has gone into ultra monetary nag mode once again and I have to start thinking about how I shall pay both my parents back for all the money I've spent of their's since the beginning of my life. It's like he thinks that I can just pull some wads of hundred dollar bills out of my ass and hand it to him. Really now, my dead beat job doesn't even pay enough for me to be handing out hundreds of dollars... even for fun.
And my younger brother who makes more money than I do at his job thinks that I have money to "pay back" my parents for stuff. I really, really wanted to punch him. I think I wanted to punch him more when he asked me whether or not I'm sure I'd be finding a job after this Med Tech program is over and done with. You know, because according to him, all med techs do the exact same thing anyway, so why do we need so many of them? Two can handle a lab right? I really, really, really about punched him then.
The little prick has always been a bit arrogant just because he has a nice full-time job with good benefits and I don't. I guess he forgot to consider that he had gotten his nice little full-time job with good benefits through connection. Basically, my older brother said, let him work here... and they did. My older brother never did something like that for me. The little prick didn't even have to go for an interview and was hired on because he was recommended by one of company's favorite whipping boys.
And me... through connection, I got a dead beat, $2.35/hr plus gratuities job where you can either have no hours, be run to death, or sit around and make money. Take your pick, I hate working with customers and pretending that I'm a cheery, happy-go-lucky person, but it's all I got right now. I'm not ungrateful that my uncle connected me, but this is not exactly a real job, and I didn't even have an interview. And so I'm not going around gloating about it as if I were better than my brother who has a nicer job.
I really, really feel like hitting him sometimes.
But anyway, all of this is relative.
In a perfect life, my ideal job would be where I sit at my desk all day long, write stories, review all sorts of stuff and make money from it. I like to just sit and write, but of course, this isn't a perfect world and if it were, it would probably bore me to death.
I'm so, so hard to please despite being an easily amused person-- those are two different things anyway.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The near future and a funny smell
This break room literally reeks of formaldehyde from the gross anatomy class and it's giving me a headache.
Aside from that, I really should be studying for my finals and other tests upcoming, but my mind is kind of preoccupied with nothing right now. I'm just on that downslope we like to call "Slacker Hell" wherein I try to come up with all reasons possible to procrastinate and put off staring at endless slides of notes and study questions.
It's horrible, but it's nearing the end of the semester and I tend to do things like that because... well, it feels easier. I've lost steam these past few weeks and really, all I want to do is sit around and do nothing.
Granted, I've been forcing myself to study and I've been finishing up all the homework and take-home finals I have, but that doesn't mean that studying for upcoming finals are going to be less arduous. I'm straining and I hate it.
At home, my mind is more interested in playing an endless game of Trivial Pursuit with my brother even though we've probably already recycled all the answer three times. Movies are more enticing and I'm sitting through reruns of the first three seasons of FREINDS just because I can-- not to say I'm not enjoying it since FRIENDS is one of my favorite series.
And I think that I may have even ticked off one of my friends because I've been ignoring her on account of my being buried in work and suddenly I want to go out and do something. But lo and behold, she's leaving town-- of which she's probably already told me ten times plus when she would be leaving and I just kept forgetting.
I am a great friend!
The smell of formaldehyde isn't getting any better and there doesn't seem to be a way to fix it.
And lately, I've been having the weirdest dreams about a certain somebody that I would rather not make public. Let's just say that I'm relieved that at least not all of them are... well, rated adult. Oh my god! Don't tell me that stupid virgin sexual frustration is finally catching up with me...
Okay, TMI. I'm sorry. Just ignore all of that. I think when I stop staring at endless med tech notes and school work, I'll be able to come back into reality and be a normal person. Well, at least I'll be able to be the person I was before I... crossed further into the realm of insanity. So everyone just has to deal with it for another year. And then after that, you only have to deal with my usual abnormal self.
In other news, I think I'm botching up my "Musings of a Random Girl" series by going too far overboard into the reality sector. I need to take out at least 60% of the truths in those short stories and replace them some fiction, otherwise, I'm just ranting and ranting is always best left for the blogs. In the story, it needs to be more than just me screaming injustices at the world.
In fact, the first two shorts of "Musings" are actually perfect with the exception of those too close to personal reality stuff. Without them, the stories would probably be left without substance, but I don't want to use too much of personal reality to write them. I'd rather make up half of it like I sort of did with the second story. So a lot of rewriting will be in order even though those are the official first stories I have ever finished to the end without it being part of a school assignment a la Creative Writing class which did nothing to boost my ego and did nothing to improve my writing skills except to tell me that I'm wordy.
Oh yea... I'm extremely wordy. I'm random, I ramble, I'm wordy, and I take forever to get to the point if there ever was one. It can't be helped, but it's going to be the death of me. I was alway hoping that I could balance out wordy with humor, but I'm not sure if it works that way. We'll just have to see.
I have a friend who has agreed to read my two finished products and critique them harshly. So if I come back to the blog with a depressing, virtually tear-stained post, that will be why.
Anyway, I have a lab practical to do in about forty-five minutes; and so in order for life to continue on, I must prevail. Or whatever. I'm a geek and I pathetically admit that I'm a loser too.
None of the above has anything to do with anything, and now I'm just rambling even more.
Aside from that, I really should be studying for my finals and other tests upcoming, but my mind is kind of preoccupied with nothing right now. I'm just on that downslope we like to call "Slacker Hell" wherein I try to come up with all reasons possible to procrastinate and put off staring at endless slides of notes and study questions.
It's horrible, but it's nearing the end of the semester and I tend to do things like that because... well, it feels easier. I've lost steam these past few weeks and really, all I want to do is sit around and do nothing.
Granted, I've been forcing myself to study and I've been finishing up all the homework and take-home finals I have, but that doesn't mean that studying for upcoming finals are going to be less arduous. I'm straining and I hate it.
At home, my mind is more interested in playing an endless game of Trivial Pursuit with my brother even though we've probably already recycled all the answer three times. Movies are more enticing and I'm sitting through reruns of the first three seasons of FREINDS just because I can-- not to say I'm not enjoying it since FRIENDS is one of my favorite series.
And I think that I may have even ticked off one of my friends because I've been ignoring her on account of my being buried in work and suddenly I want to go out and do something. But lo and behold, she's leaving town-- of which she's probably already told me ten times plus when she would be leaving and I just kept forgetting.
I am a great friend!
The smell of formaldehyde isn't getting any better and there doesn't seem to be a way to fix it.
And lately, I've been having the weirdest dreams about a certain somebody that I would rather not make public. Let's just say that I'm relieved that at least not all of them are... well, rated adult. Oh my god! Don't tell me that stupid virgin sexual frustration is finally catching up with me...
Okay, TMI. I'm sorry. Just ignore all of that. I think when I stop staring at endless med tech notes and school work, I'll be able to come back into reality and be a normal person. Well, at least I'll be able to be the person I was before I... crossed further into the realm of insanity. So everyone just has to deal with it for another year. And then after that, you only have to deal with my usual abnormal self.
In other news, I think I'm botching up my "Musings of a Random Girl" series by going too far overboard into the reality sector. I need to take out at least 60% of the truths in those short stories and replace them some fiction, otherwise, I'm just ranting and ranting is always best left for the blogs. In the story, it needs to be more than just me screaming injustices at the world.
In fact, the first two shorts of "Musings" are actually perfect with the exception of those too close to personal reality stuff. Without them, the stories would probably be left without substance, but I don't want to use too much of personal reality to write them. I'd rather make up half of it like I sort of did with the second story. So a lot of rewriting will be in order even though those are the official first stories I have ever finished to the end without it being part of a school assignment a la Creative Writing class which did nothing to boost my ego and did nothing to improve my writing skills except to tell me that I'm wordy.
Oh yea... I'm extremely wordy. I'm random, I ramble, I'm wordy, and I take forever to get to the point if there ever was one. It can't be helped, but it's going to be the death of me. I was alway hoping that I could balance out wordy with humor, but I'm not sure if it works that way. We'll just have to see.
I have a friend who has agreed to read my two finished products and critique them harshly. So if I come back to the blog with a depressing, virtually tear-stained post, that will be why.
Anyway, I have a lab practical to do in about forty-five minutes; and so in order for life to continue on, I must prevail. Or whatever. I'm a geek and I pathetically admit that I'm a loser too.
None of the above has anything to do with anything, and now I'm just rambling even more.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sudden Freak Out
I had originally planned to have this written by phone and sent as a post before getting to work, but of course, texting and driving at the same time is not a very good idea. So here it is now.
What is my sudden freak out?
My day right after getting out of classes, I'm exhausted and tired and ready to go to sleep. But I can't so I'm sitting and slacking off and waiting for the hours to go by before I start getting ready for work.
My dad calls me at around 2:30, maybe 2:45 in the afternoon and asks me: "Is Mom home yet?" And since I'm holed up in the basement with no connection to the outside world when I'm slacking off, I simply say: "Probably not." Because I hadn't heard the door open nor the dogs barking.
"Well, can you go and check?" he asks.
So I say okay and head up the stairs; even though I know very well that Mom is not home. While I'm upstairs, I tell my dad exactly what my conclusion is: Mom is not home.
"Go check the driveway for her car," he insists. He really wants to make sure that Mom isn't home or something. So I obey and trudge back down to heed his commands. And of course, as I suspect, Mom is not home and neither is Mom's car. So I tell my dad just that.
There is silence on the other line, and then he finally says, "Well, when she does get home, can you tell her that there was a fire in her Chinese kitchen." And it is right about there that I freeze and raise both my brows as if my dad can see my confused and surprised expression.
"Fire," I utter.
"There was a fire," he tells me. "Let her know and then tell her to go back to check it out. Hopefully everything is okay."
"Okay," I say.
He repeats his request a few times, and he even worries that something bad may have happened. I repeat my assurance that I shall do as he orders. I will tell Mom when she gets home that there was a fire in her Chinese kitchen at Dillons. And I will tell her to call Dad when she gets the chance.
Then I return to my chair in the basement and continue my slacking off. But all the while, I'm wondering why Mom hasn't gotten home yet. She's usually home around this time for her lunch break and yet there hadn't been a sign of her yet. Of course, my sleep deprived mind doesn't think much of it. I only conjur the idea that my mother is currently on her way home for her lunch break and when she does get home, then I can relay the necessary message to her.
It never occured to me that Mom never left Dillons to begin with.
At least it never occured to me until Dad calls me yet again around 3:00. By this time, I was trying to kill more time before needing to be off to work by 3:30 He again asks if Mom has come home yet. This time, I confidently respond that she is not home yet. And then he tells me that he's been calling the other Dillons (he works at one and she works at another) and no one has been answering. He's been calling her cell phone and she hasn't been answering.
By the time he finishes this sentence, I am on my feet and he is asking my to leave for work early and swing by Mom's workplace to see about what may have happened and determine that everything is okay.
It's all fine and dandy. I decide to change and leave at that exact moment. At this time I'm still slightly laid back and dull. I go and change, I leave the house and I head for Mom's workplace. But as I'm heading there, everytime I come to a stall in the road, like being unable to pass slow cars, being unable to make a left cause of traffic and things like that, the panic begins to seep in. I'm thiking, What if something actually happened? and What if Mom had gotten hurt in the fire? and I just continue to come up with bogus deals about what could or might have happened.
There had been a fire in my mother's department at Dillons. I literally freaked out. I flipped back and forth from wondering if something might have happened to reassuring myself that everything was okay. I was practically in panic mode.
To cut to the main point of this blog, yes, there was a fire in the Chinese kitchen. The entire Dillons store was closed for the meantime to clean up and when I arrived, the staff of Dillons were trying to usher all costumers away, telling them that the store was closed for a while.
I reached the entrance, I recall stuttering and saying something about my mom being an employee and then I was told to head on inside and see to my mommy.
Well, basically a deep fryer caught on fire because it was defective. Everything was okay, nobody was hurt, and I got told that I look exactly like my mother, twice. It was a lot of interesting fun... really...
As soon as that fiasco was all understood, I left for work and as I drove, I pretty much felt my entire body lose all steam and become even more exhausted than I was before. I called my dad to tell him that everything is okay and then I go on my not so merry way to work.
Yea. I'm tired and I'm pooped out today. All has been chaos and hell and to top it all off, I lock my keys in my car.
Life is swell.
In other news, school is coming to the end of a semester, finals are coming up, summer will begin soon, I will have no social life starting then, and I've written and for the first time, finished a story on my own. It is a short, one-shot that I still need to reread and edit and change for the better. And it is one of a coupole in a series of stand alone short stories.
Otherwise, life is still swell.
What is my sudden freak out?
My day right after getting out of classes, I'm exhausted and tired and ready to go to sleep. But I can't so I'm sitting and slacking off and waiting for the hours to go by before I start getting ready for work.
My dad calls me at around 2:30, maybe 2:45 in the afternoon and asks me: "Is Mom home yet?" And since I'm holed up in the basement with no connection to the outside world when I'm slacking off, I simply say: "Probably not." Because I hadn't heard the door open nor the dogs barking.
"Well, can you go and check?" he asks.
So I say okay and head up the stairs; even though I know very well that Mom is not home. While I'm upstairs, I tell my dad exactly what my conclusion is: Mom is not home.
"Go check the driveway for her car," he insists. He really wants to make sure that Mom isn't home or something. So I obey and trudge back down to heed his commands. And of course, as I suspect, Mom is not home and neither is Mom's car. So I tell my dad just that.
There is silence on the other line, and then he finally says, "Well, when she does get home, can you tell her that there was a fire in her Chinese kitchen." And it is right about there that I freeze and raise both my brows as if my dad can see my confused and surprised expression.
"Fire," I utter.
"There was a fire," he tells me. "Let her know and then tell her to go back to check it out. Hopefully everything is okay."
"Okay," I say.
He repeats his request a few times, and he even worries that something bad may have happened. I repeat my assurance that I shall do as he orders. I will tell Mom when she gets home that there was a fire in her Chinese kitchen at Dillons. And I will tell her to call Dad when she gets the chance.
Then I return to my chair in the basement and continue my slacking off. But all the while, I'm wondering why Mom hasn't gotten home yet. She's usually home around this time for her lunch break and yet there hadn't been a sign of her yet. Of course, my sleep deprived mind doesn't think much of it. I only conjur the idea that my mother is currently on her way home for her lunch break and when she does get home, then I can relay the necessary message to her.
It never occured to me that Mom never left Dillons to begin with.
At least it never occured to me until Dad calls me yet again around 3:00. By this time, I was trying to kill more time before needing to be off to work by 3:30 He again asks if Mom has come home yet. This time, I confidently respond that she is not home yet. And then he tells me that he's been calling the other Dillons (he works at one and she works at another) and no one has been answering. He's been calling her cell phone and she hasn't been answering.
By the time he finishes this sentence, I am on my feet and he is asking my to leave for work early and swing by Mom's workplace to see about what may have happened and determine that everything is okay.
It's all fine and dandy. I decide to change and leave at that exact moment. At this time I'm still slightly laid back and dull. I go and change, I leave the house and I head for Mom's workplace. But as I'm heading there, everytime I come to a stall in the road, like being unable to pass slow cars, being unable to make a left cause of traffic and things like that, the panic begins to seep in. I'm thiking, What if something actually happened? and What if Mom had gotten hurt in the fire? and I just continue to come up with bogus deals about what could or might have happened.
There had been a fire in my mother's department at Dillons. I literally freaked out. I flipped back and forth from wondering if something might have happened to reassuring myself that everything was okay. I was practically in panic mode.
To cut to the main point of this blog, yes, there was a fire in the Chinese kitchen. The entire Dillons store was closed for the meantime to clean up and when I arrived, the staff of Dillons were trying to usher all costumers away, telling them that the store was closed for a while.
I reached the entrance, I recall stuttering and saying something about my mom being an employee and then I was told to head on inside and see to my mommy.
Well, basically a deep fryer caught on fire because it was defective. Everything was okay, nobody was hurt, and I got told that I look exactly like my mother, twice. It was a lot of interesting fun... really...
As soon as that fiasco was all understood, I left for work and as I drove, I pretty much felt my entire body lose all steam and become even more exhausted than I was before. I called my dad to tell him that everything is okay and then I go on my not so merry way to work.
Yea. I'm tired and I'm pooped out today. All has been chaos and hell and to top it all off, I lock my keys in my car.
Life is swell.
In other news, school is coming to the end of a semester, finals are coming up, summer will begin soon, I will have no social life starting then, and I've written and for the first time, finished a story on my own. It is a short, one-shot that I still need to reread and edit and change for the better. And it is one of a coupole in a series of stand alone short stories.
Otherwise, life is still swell.
Monday, April 13, 2009
My try at something new...
This is my first official Blog on the Go post. Yea... You really can't tell the difference between this and a regular computer based post, but this one is coming from my phone and it's so cool because now I can post on my blog no matter where I am.
Pretty nifty!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Party this weekend!!
I know this is probably not something I should publicize since I'm supposedly little miss "doesn't know how to have fun", as according to a lot of my few friends. But I am so looking forward to this Saturday where I can just kick back, relax and enjoy at my friend's kegger. It's actually her parent's kegger because I think her dad's birthday is coming up. So there will be tons of wasted adult figures by the end of the night, which may feel a little weird to me. My parents don't drink and I only know of few other friends' parents who like to party.
I'm invited, all of her friends are invited, and I can even bring friends if I so feel like it.
But anyway, my brain is grasping for what little relaxation I can get, and this party couldn't have come at a better time. I've finished taking two tests this week, and there is only one other next week on Wednesday. I have no work hours this week either, and so I have all day today and all day Sunday to study for that test.
On top of that, I was informed that a certain someone will probably be attending this little party as well, and so I am very much looking forward to seeing him again. But this is only important to an extent; I still live in a world where boys have cooties...
It's been a while since I've done any actual drinking and now would be a good time.
At least it'll keep me from going completely crazy.
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
In other news, I'm brainstorming story writing again. Geez am I pathetic or what...
I'm invited, all of her friends are invited, and I can even bring friends if I so feel like it.
But anyway, my brain is grasping for what little relaxation I can get, and this party couldn't have come at a better time. I've finished taking two tests this week, and there is only one other next week on Wednesday. I have no work hours this week either, and so I have all day today and all day Sunday to study for that test.
On top of that, I was informed that a certain someone will probably be attending this little party as well, and so I am very much looking forward to seeing him again. But this is only important to an extent; I still live in a world where boys have cooties...
It's been a while since I've done any actual drinking and now would be a good time.
At least it'll keep me from going completely crazy.
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
In other news, I'm brainstorming story writing again. Geez am I pathetic or what...
Monday, March 30, 2009
Back to school and back to insanity
So Spring Break was a week ago, but time flies and it didn't even feel like it was that long ago nor does it feel like it was only a week ago. Spring Break pretty much just disappeared before I even knew what I was doing with it.
I had had so much planned to do on all of those days off, and it amounted to nothing whenever I sat down and realized that there were other things I'd rather be doing than studying or finishing my homework. And so instead of catching up, I'm still at that same standing point I was at before Spring Break had started.
And now I'm two tests later and I feel like slacking off some more. There are at least twenty more questions of my Serology homework that needs to be done, but I am in no mood to finish it... as can be concluded from the fact that I'm blogging instead of working. It's just so much easier.
School is going rather well, I'd say, as I'm not totally bombing tests and I'm actually enjoying a lot of the lab exercises that we do. I actually understand a lot of it too. So all is great and I'm still looking forward to finishing all of this up so that I don't have to spend everyday studying and looking up information that I don't already know.
In other news, I've been trying to get back into the mood of writing. A few stories are getting a new dose of brainstorming, while a few newer stories are being developed. I'm a pathetic writer who can't seem to choose one story and stick to it until it finishes, and so even though I say that I've been writing, it's not really getting very far. In fact, I think I reread my material more than I come up with new drafts for the rest of the story.
Yea, pathetic-ness is my forte, apparently.
I had had so much planned to do on all of those days off, and it amounted to nothing whenever I sat down and realized that there were other things I'd rather be doing than studying or finishing my homework. And so instead of catching up, I'm still at that same standing point I was at before Spring Break had started.
And now I'm two tests later and I feel like slacking off some more. There are at least twenty more questions of my Serology homework that needs to be done, but I am in no mood to finish it... as can be concluded from the fact that I'm blogging instead of working. It's just so much easier.
School is going rather well, I'd say, as I'm not totally bombing tests and I'm actually enjoying a lot of the lab exercises that we do. I actually understand a lot of it too. So all is great and I'm still looking forward to finishing all of this up so that I don't have to spend everyday studying and looking up information that I don't already know.
In other news, I've been trying to get back into the mood of writing. A few stories are getting a new dose of brainstorming, while a few newer stories are being developed. I'm a pathetic writer who can't seem to choose one story and stick to it until it finishes, and so even though I say that I've been writing, it's not really getting very far. In fact, I think I reread my material more than I come up with new drafts for the rest of the story.
Yea, pathetic-ness is my forte, apparently.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Since when have I been able to think about plans outside of homework...
I am so ecstatic, cause I feel like I finally have a couple days to breathe. Aside from having one exam in Chemistry and one small, very, very small quiz in Hematology, there's not much else I need to worry about this week. Just as well-- and I blame our down falling economy-- I have absolutely no work hours this week. The only big things happening are during the day, in which I'm in class, and one party on Saturday, in which my mother told me to get the day off because the parental units would like to take a few days and go somewhere.
And yes! Spring Break is coming around the corner and I feel refreshed. I only have two exams right after Spring break, but I'm quite caught up with one of the two classes that I'm not too worried... yet. I'm sure the panic will finally catch up to me halfway through Spring Break and I realize I haven't really been able to memorize every last detail of my notes. And then I'll lose sight of all my homework assignments, my mind will go blank, and I'll sleep in on the day of...
My worst nightmare-- which I had a couple weeks back-- happened to be me sleeping in until way after all the classes are over and still trying to rush out the door in hopes that I can still make it in time to finish my exam within ten minutes. But alas, the class period is already over and now I'm failing and I still can't figure out why the heck I can't find a decent pair of jeans to wear out the door.
Well, I've had worse nightmares, but this is one that I am adamant will never happen. And to make absoute sure, I have at least three alarms in place to wake me up every morning. And my mom serves as a persistent alarm as well.
But anyway, this week will allow me a tad bit of slack. After my exam on Wednesday, I think I'll make some plans to do other things and take a breather away from school for at least one day. I'm craving some good eating despite my lack of money, but if I continue to stare at my computer and notes and more notes, I think I might lose my mind-- not that I haven't already lost it.
In the midst of all of this chaos of going back to school, I am extremely annoyed to find that my motivation to write has been coming back to me. Of course it would, because it's something I'd rather be doing over studying constantly. And so my mind is coming up with any way possible to drag myself away from text books and notes and dumping my fragile brain on top of unfinished stories with new ideas that if I don't write down now, I'll never remember again.
Yea... I love you too brain. You strive to ruin my life and make me miserable, don't you? I thank you for your efforts. One of these days, I may have to bring you out and put you on a pedestal for worship.
But just you wait, as soon as my year and a half of this studying and cramming is over, I will overflow you with poisonous alcoholic products so that all those awesomeness brain cells will have to take a nice long vacation. Just you wait.
Nah... I haven't quite gone completely insane yet.
And yes! Spring Break is coming around the corner and I feel refreshed. I only have two exams right after Spring break, but I'm quite caught up with one of the two classes that I'm not too worried... yet. I'm sure the panic will finally catch up to me halfway through Spring Break and I realize I haven't really been able to memorize every last detail of my notes. And then I'll lose sight of all my homework assignments, my mind will go blank, and I'll sleep in on the day of...
My worst nightmare-- which I had a couple weeks back-- happened to be me sleeping in until way after all the classes are over and still trying to rush out the door in hopes that I can still make it in time to finish my exam within ten minutes. But alas, the class period is already over and now I'm failing and I still can't figure out why the heck I can't find a decent pair of jeans to wear out the door.
Well, I've had worse nightmares, but this is one that I am adamant will never happen. And to make absoute sure, I have at least three alarms in place to wake me up every morning. And my mom serves as a persistent alarm as well.
But anyway, this week will allow me a tad bit of slack. After my exam on Wednesday, I think I'll make some plans to do other things and take a breather away from school for at least one day. I'm craving some good eating despite my lack of money, but if I continue to stare at my computer and notes and more notes, I think I might lose my mind-- not that I haven't already lost it.
In the midst of all of this chaos of going back to school, I am extremely annoyed to find that my motivation to write has been coming back to me. Of course it would, because it's something I'd rather be doing over studying constantly. And so my mind is coming up with any way possible to drag myself away from text books and notes and dumping my fragile brain on top of unfinished stories with new ideas that if I don't write down now, I'll never remember again.
Yea... I love you too brain. You strive to ruin my life and make me miserable, don't you? I thank you for your efforts. One of these days, I may have to bring you out and put you on a pedestal for worship.
But just you wait, as soon as my year and a half of this studying and cramming is over, I will overflow you with poisonous alcoholic products so that all those awesomeness brain cells will have to take a nice long vacation. Just you wait.
Nah... I haven't quite gone completely insane yet.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sleep deprived and clawing at what little gray matter I have
Yea, I'm tired. After taking and barely passing two exams last week with an A and a B, I have just taken another test today. Tomorrow there will be an even harder exam, and then yet another one for Friday.
On top of that, I still have about fifty to sixty homework questions to finish by next Thursday when I will also be taking another exam.
From here on out, there will be at least one exam every week.
And I have a cold. It was kind of like "Hey, you have five plus exams to take in the coming week or two, but we don't think you're miserable enough. Here, have a cold. Enjoy. No returns, no refunds. But you have to keep it until you're done being stressed out. This is how we build strength in our future."
Yea. Whatever. Now I'm just delusional.
At least I'm keeping up with a few of my classes pretty well. Hematology and Blood Banking are being awfully good to me. Chemistry is a give or take, depending on how well I can manage to understand/memorize the class lecture. Molecular Diagnostics is a lost cause, so I'm just going to have to do what I can to "know everything" and then wing it. As for Lab Management, there are a lot of common sense things that could simply be derived from a real work place-- I think it'll be fine. Serology is going to be strenuous-- I can already feel it, because of the homework and all the studying I don't know how to do.
So anyway, maybe I should stop slacking off in class and actually pay attention. Not that I can right now. My nose is stuffed, my chest is congested, and my throat is a bit itchy, scratchy sore. My head is fuzzy and my muscles ache like heck. And now I'm hungry as well.
Okay, so after this bout of drama, I think I'll mellow out a bit. I've got lots of studying to do tonight, and I promised a date with one of my best friends who I've been ignoring for three weeks, probably, because of all of my classes. She thinks I died, but I assured her that I'm not that lucky right now since it seems more fun to make me miserable with the inability to breath, think, sleep, or even really see anything.
Voices echo in my head, though I'm not so sure that it has to do with this cold...
And I'm done ranting.
On top of that, I still have about fifty to sixty homework questions to finish by next Thursday when I will also be taking another exam.
From here on out, there will be at least one exam every week.
And I have a cold. It was kind of like "Hey, you have five plus exams to take in the coming week or two, but we don't think you're miserable enough. Here, have a cold. Enjoy. No returns, no refunds. But you have to keep it until you're done being stressed out. This is how we build strength in our future."
Yea. Whatever. Now I'm just delusional.
At least I'm keeping up with a few of my classes pretty well. Hematology and Blood Banking are being awfully good to me. Chemistry is a give or take, depending on how well I can manage to understand/memorize the class lecture. Molecular Diagnostics is a lost cause, so I'm just going to have to do what I can to "know everything" and then wing it. As for Lab Management, there are a lot of common sense things that could simply be derived from a real work place-- I think it'll be fine. Serology is going to be strenuous-- I can already feel it, because of the homework and all the studying I don't know how to do.
So anyway, maybe I should stop slacking off in class and actually pay attention. Not that I can right now. My nose is stuffed, my chest is congested, and my throat is a bit itchy, scratchy sore. My head is fuzzy and my muscles ache like heck. And now I'm hungry as well.
Okay, so after this bout of drama, I think I'll mellow out a bit. I've got lots of studying to do tonight, and I promised a date with one of my best friends who I've been ignoring for three weeks, probably, because of all of my classes. She thinks I died, but I assured her that I'm not that lucky right now since it seems more fun to make me miserable with the inability to breath, think, sleep, or even really see anything.
Voices echo in my head, though I'm not so sure that it has to do with this cold...
And I'm done ranting.
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