Location: Gresham Station
Mood: Awkward
I would like to share with you an embarrassing moment that I just had.
I'm home alone, and needing human contact. Also, I have two Christmas gifts I to buy. So, I head to the local shopping station to scare up some presents. It is littered with people. I mean the most amount of shoppers I have ever seen at this particular location.To give you an idea of how many people were there: I waited in line at the register for 30 minutes.
When I finally get out of one store, I learn that it has begun to pour rain. So, I flip up my furry hood, and head to the next store. While crossing the street I walk past two of my next door neighbors. A girl my age, that I grew up with and played with all of the time, and her mom. They were mid conversation, but I was pretty confidant that they caught my eye.
I stop dead in my tracks. I very loudly and enthusiastically shout out "Well hi there! How are you?" in an entirely over-animated type fashion. I waved my arms about as though I was painting them a glorious Native-American Style "How Do You Do?" mural with my hands. It was so attention-grabbing that several people around stopped what they were doing and turned to see who this energetic girl was saying hello to.
Now, that wouldn't really have been all that bad. However, my neighbors halted their conversation, and stared right at me with zero recognition on their faces. They were dumb-founded. They clearly had no idea who I was. To make matters worse, both of them knit their eyebrows together and let out a very skeptical "uh...hi?" Their expressions were doubtful, like those you might expect to see on a person who had just been offered a brand new car free of charge with no strings attached by a nefarious seeming gangster type.
So, now that I have the eyes of the entire busy street corner, and it's obvious that no one knows who I am, I respond in the only logical way. My face flushes, I hang my head a little, and very swiftly say "well it was good seeing you," and dart into the nearest doorway like a woman on a mission.
Resisting the urge to grow up (on Mondays and more)
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
I Guess It's A Monday?
Location: Home
Mood: Melancholy
I guess I'm having a day that most people would label as a typical Monday. I just feel really stupid today. However, I'm not entirely sure that "stupid" captures the enormity of how I feel.
It's like my brain is cloudy.
All day I was confronted with these situations that I should have been able to handle, but I struggled. With each and every situation...I struggled. It started almost right away too.
This morning I THOUGHT I was awake. Then I arrived at work, and two of my coworkers were go-go-go almost right off the bat. I was instantly overwhelmed. It wasn't that they were discussing anything too stressful, or something that I could not handle. It was that my brain simply could not keep up.
Then, the kids arrived, and my work day really began. Granted, these aren't normal kids, and that makes the work harder than average. However, it was as though I couldn't do a damn thing right. If a kid made a simple request of me, I would respond by staring at them for a couple of beats before I reacted. When a child began acting out in a way that required my immediate attention, I was able to physically respond, but I was unable to mentally respond. Throughout the entire day, I continued to make stupid mistakes. It was like my brain was soaking in molasses or something.
After the children left, I had a serious to-do list to to tackle, and all I could do was wander around helplessly. I was aware of the things that I needed to accomplish, but I couldn't make myself function successfully. On top of that, my day was riddeled with mental stutters, verbal slips, and a general lack of comprehension.
I just feel like I can't do anything right at this point. I guess that is probably not true. I'm sure that there is SOMETHING that I can do right. However, at this point I am not convinced.
Tomorrow I will have a sharper mind and faster reactions! I can't handle two days of feeling like I am inept.
Mood: Melancholy
I guess I'm having a day that most people would label as a typical Monday. I just feel really stupid today. However, I'm not entirely sure that "stupid" captures the enormity of how I feel.
It's like my brain is cloudy.
All day I was confronted with these situations that I should have been able to handle, but I struggled. With each and every situation...I struggled. It started almost right away too.
This morning I THOUGHT I was awake. Then I arrived at work, and two of my coworkers were go-go-go almost right off the bat. I was instantly overwhelmed. It wasn't that they were discussing anything too stressful, or something that I could not handle. It was that my brain simply could not keep up.
Then, the kids arrived, and my work day really began. Granted, these aren't normal kids, and that makes the work harder than average. However, it was as though I couldn't do a damn thing right. If a kid made a simple request of me, I would respond by staring at them for a couple of beats before I reacted. When a child began acting out in a way that required my immediate attention, I was able to physically respond, but I was unable to mentally respond. Throughout the entire day, I continued to make stupid mistakes. It was like my brain was soaking in molasses or something.
After the children left, I had a serious to-do list to to tackle, and all I could do was wander around helplessly. I was aware of the things that I needed to accomplish, but I couldn't make myself function successfully. On top of that, my day was riddeled with mental stutters, verbal slips, and a general lack of comprehension.
I just feel like I can't do anything right at this point. I guess that is probably not true. I'm sure that there is SOMETHING that I can do right. However, at this point I am not convinced.
Tomorrow I will have a sharper mind and faster reactions! I can't handle two days of feeling like I am inept.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I'm Never Leaving The House Again
How do I even begin to tell you about this day?
Well, you need some back story. It all begins last Thursday. I was at work. I missed a call from someone at a local child welfare office. They wanted to schedule an interview for me. I work Thursdays and Fridays, and have very little time to return calls. This is especially true on Thursdays. I work from 8:30am-5pm. At which point I drive like a frantic crazy woman to get to my next job which begins at 5:30pm.
I really want to work for child welfare. So this past Thursday I thought it would be a good idea to return the call as I drove from job 1 to job 2.
BAD IDEA. I was completely frazzled. I hadn't worked out what I was going to say. I left a message for this woman that made me sound like a bumbling idiot. I don't remember the exact message, but it went something like this:
"Hi...uh..." (I had hastily written the woman's name down. I couldn't read my writing, and it was a big long name. So I paused for a second as I tried to drive and decipher what on earth this name was). "...um...Ms. Bridenheagenshsmendhaer" (that was me mumbling her name) "This is Melinda Murray returning your call about the..." (missed my turn) "...interview. I'm sorry I missed your call. I was actually at work all day, and I will be at work all day tomorrow. I'm very interested in coming in about this job." (Coming in about this job??! Really?!) "I guess you could call me back." (I guess you could call me back?) "I'm free most other days of the week..." (At this point I have realized that the message has made me look like I am suffering from some form of mental retardation and it is best to just end it all). "I will...uh...try to reach you again tomorrow after 5pm. Again this is....Melinda...Murray." (OH MY GOD MINDY! FAILURE! THIS IS AWKWARD!! BAIL!! BAIL!! BAIL!!) "Sorry this message is so awkward." *Click* ---> and yes I actually said that last part.
Now, if you're thinking what I was thinking: I know!! What is wrong with me?!
At this point I am assuming that they are never going to call me ever again, and I have lost my chance. Fair assumption? I think so.
On Friday, I received a call from someone else in this office. The original woman, with the unpronounceable name doesn't work on Fridays, but they wanted to touch base, and tell me they are only doing interviews on Monday. I think this is my chance to redeem myself. I'll call her when I get off work.
She wasn't there. I left a less awkward message. However it was still strange. It was me explaining that I can come in any time on Monday, and if someone could please call me at their earliest convenience. I told this new woman (whose name I wrote down very carefully) that I would make any time work in my schedule.
All weekend goes by, and I receive no call. I have lost my chance at this job, but I'm not really surprised. This has been a seriously awkward game of phone tag. No one, but me, could pull this level of awkwardness off.
Then, Monday comes around. I get up early, and I go to the gym. Now, I NEVER take my phone to in with me, but for some reason I did this Monday. I'm still not sure if this has worked to my benefit.
It rings.
I answered, frazzled, and out of breath. It is the same office, different person (this is three people I have been awkward with now). They have one interview slot open Tuesday at 11:30. I say "yes I will be there." However, I have no pen, so I don't ask for the address or anything.
More information you need to know about me. I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, being late. This usually means that I am EMBARRASSINGLY early to things.
Today rolls around. I get up early. I get ready. I find the address to the office. I set my resume and application to print. I perfect my outfit. Surprisingly, I look pretty good. I get ready to leave (allowing enough time to be there 20 minutes early). I go to the printer to gather my papers. The damn thing was out of paper! I have to find some. That takes about 10 minutes.
I leave. There's a smog advisory, and it's hotter than Hades out. However, everyone seems to think that driving is a good idea. So, all the morons of the world are out, and driving at a slow and leisurely pace. PLUS there's construction everywhere. (Thanks for the jobs Obama, but today it's not really working for my schedule). I get to the address I have written down, five minutes late.
OMG I'm late.
OMFG, the place doesn't exist! I'm at the wrong place!
At this point I am thinking. "Just go home Mindy. You have completely botched this whole thing from the very beginning. There's no point in attempting to save it. Just go home, curl up in a ball, and cry for a few months." BUT, This week I'm testing the boundaries of my comfort zone. So, I call my mother, and she finds their phone number. I call their office, and tell them that I'm lost.
I'm sure they are thinking "this lady is a complete fool." I would be. Why are they wasting their time with me? Why have they gone out of their way to bring me in for an interview when I have yet to demonstrate one redeeming quality? Actually no. I have clearly demonstrated my ability to socially flog myself and come back for more. How appealing.
They debate whether or not they should continue with the interview. I'm not speculating. They actually told me this is what they were doing.
By some strange grace of god they decide to let me come in a half an hour late (because that is how late I will be at this point). I thank them, but am seriously wondering if I should let me come in a half an hour late.
So, I drive in the opposite direction for 15 minutes, and pull into the parking lot of a Walgreen's. They have told me they are located at the corner of Powell and 122nd, and all I see here is a Walgreen's.
Kill me now.
Every fiber of my being is now screaming "GO HOME!" My anxiety issues are kicking in BIG time, and I hate myself for being this late.
Really it's amazing I didn't just completely loose it there in the middle of Rockwood. BUT, I held it together, and discovered this weird little hole in the wall marked "Child Welfare." I take a deep breath, and walk into this building.
There was no front desk to check in at. Really there wasn't much of anything. It was like a big empty room with a conference room attached.
I scream internally. My inside voice is shouting "TURN AND LEAVE, TURN AND LEAVE!"
A few people look up at me and stare. I'm sure they are wondering who this nicely dressed, but clearly frazzled young lady is. I wish I knew, people. I wish I knew.
After what feels like hours, but is really only seconds, a nice man comes out and says "are you Melinda?"
OH THANK GOD!!! YES I'M MELINDA!!! SAVE ME NOW!!
Normally, I advise against following strange men around after entering vaguely marked offices in the middle of trashy east P-town, but at this point I had NOTHING to loose.
So, I swallow the blue pill and follow him down the rabbit hole.
The interview lasted about 10 minutes, which isn't advisable. However, I felt like it went okay. Against all odds, I think I pulled off this interview.
When it ended I practically ran out of there in my heels. I had to make a quick stop at the grocery store, and then I was home free. Literally. However, even that didn't go as planned.
When I went to the store, I was followed around by two trashy looking teenage boys in over sized tie-died shirts. They don't know I saw them, but they were stalking me. Then, as I was leaving, my gas light came on. Which is beyond my comprehension, because I had a quarter of a tank this morning.
I make a quick stop at a nearby gas station, and I think "you deserve an Icee Mindy." So, I go in to pay only to discover that this is apparently the one gas station mini mart on Earth that does not serve Icees.
PERFECT.
Well, I've gone in, so I've got to get something. I get a pop. The lady doesn't take my credit card. Of course you don't. I make it work. I get in the car, and now I can't get out of the parking lot in the direction I want to go. I have to drive around in a ridiculous 4-block circle just to get back on track.
I think that the heat has actually seeped into my brain. The temperature is making a brain omelet inside my head.
Finally I make it home. The interview location was 15 minutes from my house, but I managed to get stuck outside, lost, confused, upset, and frazzled for three hours!
As I mentioned earlier, it is hotter than the fiery pits of hell here. On second thought, that might be where I am. I woke up in hell this morning. God that explains EVERYTHING!
Really it's amazing I didn't just completely loose it there in the middle of Rockwood. BUT, I held it together, and discovered this weird little hole in the wall marked "Child Welfare." I take a deep breath, and walk into this building.
There was no front desk to check in at. Really there wasn't much of anything. It was like a big empty room with a conference room attached.
I scream internally. My inside voice is shouting "TURN AND LEAVE, TURN AND LEAVE!"
A few people look up at me and stare. I'm sure they are wondering who this nicely dressed, but clearly frazzled young lady is. I wish I knew, people. I wish I knew.
After what feels like hours, but is really only seconds, a nice man comes out and says "are you Melinda?"
OH THANK GOD!!! YES I'M MELINDA!!! SAVE ME NOW!!
Normally, I advise against following strange men around after entering vaguely marked offices in the middle of trashy east P-town, but at this point I had NOTHING to loose.
So, I swallow the blue pill and follow him down the rabbit hole.
The interview lasted about 10 minutes, which isn't advisable. However, I felt like it went okay. Against all odds, I think I pulled off this interview.
When it ended I practically ran out of there in my heels. I had to make a quick stop at the grocery store, and then I was home free. Literally. However, even that didn't go as planned.
When I went to the store, I was followed around by two trashy looking teenage boys in over sized tie-died shirts. They don't know I saw them, but they were stalking me. Then, as I was leaving, my gas light came on. Which is beyond my comprehension, because I had a quarter of a tank this morning.
I make a quick stop at a nearby gas station, and I think "you deserve an Icee Mindy." So, I go in to pay only to discover that this is apparently the one gas station mini mart on Earth that does not serve Icees.
PERFECT.
Well, I've gone in, so I've got to get something. I get a pop. The lady doesn't take my credit card. Of course you don't. I make it work. I get in the car, and now I can't get out of the parking lot in the direction I want to go. I have to drive around in a ridiculous 4-block circle just to get back on track.
I think that the heat has actually seeped into my brain. The temperature is making a brain omelet inside my head.
Finally I make it home. The interview location was 15 minutes from my house, but I managed to get stuck outside, lost, confused, upset, and frazzled for three hours!
As I mentioned earlier, it is hotter than the fiery pits of hell here. On second thought, that might be where I am. I woke up in hell this morning. God that explains EVERYTHING!
Monday, July 20, 2009
A Grown Up in a Child-Sized Costume
Location: My Room
Mood: Lonely
Here is what's on my mind. According to, well, the world I look a lot younger than I am. I'm twenty-three years old, but many people have a hard time believing that. It's quite frustrating actually. It's a lot worse than it sounds. Let me describe to you a few recent events in my life.
This weekend I went to Vegas. A bouncer didn't believe my ID at one club. At another some guy asked me if I was fifteen. Then the girl in line behind me at the bar loudly told her friends that there was no way in hell I was legal.
A few weeks ago a bike racer gave me one of his premes (he didn't want it). It was a tote bag. He said it would really come in handy during my first semester. A couple of days later a friend of my parents asked me what grade I was in.
About six months ago I went to the movies with my Mom. We went to see an animated feature. It was raining, so I had my hood up. My mom bounds up to the box office and said "we wanna see some cartoons!" The box office attendant then asked if we needed one adult and one child ticket.
Nearly nine months ago I went out to dinner with my brother. The host looked directly at me, and then asked if we would be needing a childrens' menu.
I work at a therapeutic school for children who have been abused/neglected. On one of my first days a 6 year old girl told me that I didn't look like a teacher. "You look like a kid," she said. One day I was working with an after school group of adolescents and one of the teenage girls raised her hand, and asked the lead staff "is she {referring to me} one of you or one of us?"
As you can see, this is not just a vague confusion. I am an adult, and society doesn't see it. People aren't saying I look a little bit younger than I am. Some people think I'm a few years younger. Some people think more than that. They assume I'm a teenager. When they see me reading they assume that it is for homework. They find it strange that my parents "let" me drink. Other people assume worse. They think I'm a child. They believe I need special menus and booster seats.
Normally, I just laugh it off. I tell myself that it's no big deal. However, the truth is: this really gets to me. A large part of me actually takes this to heart. It kicks me right in the most tender portion of my self-esteem. I don't want to be younger. I'm twenty-three. I want to be twenty three.
The worst part is that no one seems to understand. I keep hearing "oh you'll really like that later" or "eventually that will be nice." That's all well and good, but here's the thing: it's not later. I'm sure that when I'm forty-five and getting carded, I will be flattered. Eventually, I probably will appreciate it. However, right now it sucks, and I don't think that's going to change. Maybe I will like it when I'm older. Actually, I probably will, but one thing I know for sure is that when I am older I will not think "that wasn't so bad when I was 23." It sucks now, and I believe that I will still think so into old age. I will look back and think "yeah it's nice now, but I hated the hell out of it when I was young."
SO, thanks for trying to console me with that thought. But for the love of god please stop.
Mood: Lonely
Here is what's on my mind. According to, well, the world I look a lot younger than I am. I'm twenty-three years old, but many people have a hard time believing that. It's quite frustrating actually. It's a lot worse than it sounds. Let me describe to you a few recent events in my life.
This weekend I went to Vegas. A bouncer didn't believe my ID at one club. At another some guy asked me if I was fifteen. Then the girl in line behind me at the bar loudly told her friends that there was no way in hell I was legal.
A few weeks ago a bike racer gave me one of his premes (he didn't want it). It was a tote bag. He said it would really come in handy during my first semester. A couple of days later a friend of my parents asked me what grade I was in.
About six months ago I went to the movies with my Mom. We went to see an animated feature. It was raining, so I had my hood up. My mom bounds up to the box office and said "we wanna see some cartoons!" The box office attendant then asked if we needed one adult and one child ticket.
Nearly nine months ago I went out to dinner with my brother. The host looked directly at me, and then asked if we would be needing a childrens' menu.
I work at a therapeutic school for children who have been abused/neglected. On one of my first days a 6 year old girl told me that I didn't look like a teacher. "You look like a kid," she said. One day I was working with an after school group of adolescents and one of the teenage girls raised her hand, and asked the lead staff "is she {referring to me} one of you or one of us?"
As you can see, this is not just a vague confusion. I am an adult, and society doesn't see it. People aren't saying I look a little bit younger than I am. Some people think I'm a few years younger. Some people think more than that. They assume I'm a teenager. When they see me reading they assume that it is for homework. They find it strange that my parents "let" me drink. Other people assume worse. They think I'm a child. They believe I need special menus and booster seats.
Normally, I just laugh it off. I tell myself that it's no big deal. However, the truth is: this really gets to me. A large part of me actually takes this to heart. It kicks me right in the most tender portion of my self-esteem. I don't want to be younger. I'm twenty-three. I want to be twenty three.
The worst part is that no one seems to understand. I keep hearing "oh you'll really like that later" or "eventually that will be nice." That's all well and good, but here's the thing: it's not later. I'm sure that when I'm forty-five and getting carded, I will be flattered. Eventually, I probably will appreciate it. However, right now it sucks, and I don't think that's going to change. Maybe I will like it when I'm older. Actually, I probably will, but one thing I know for sure is that when I am older I will not think "that wasn't so bad when I was 23." It sucks now, and I believe that I will still think so into old age. I will look back and think "yeah it's nice now, but I hated the hell out of it when I was young."
SO, thanks for trying to console me with that thought. But for the love of god please stop.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Kids Have it Made!
Location: Home
Mood: Amused
Have I ever told you about how and why I think little kids are the greatest? Really their lives rule, and I'm super jealous. Have you ever really thought about it?
Little kids can wear whatever they want, and it's adorable. Have you been to the zoo recently? You'll see kids there in all types of garments. It could be the middle of July, and a four year-old will be wearing a snow suit as overalls. I mean you'll feel bad because he's probably sweating up a storm, but it's so freaking cute you can't help but snicker. Also, kids can wear mismatched outfits whenever they please. They can wear capes out in public, and no one even bats an eye. Even better: they compliment them. Now, imagine 23 year old Me, going to the grocery store, in two different pairs of long socks, plaid shorts, a polka dotted shirt, with a cape around my shoulders, and a ten gallon hat. If you walked past me you would not smile and compliment my outfit. You would not come up to me and say, (with pride flowing out of you) "did you dress yourself this morning?" You would wonder what was wrong with me. You might hide your children, or clutch your purse a little tighter. You'd probably make fun of me behind my back.
Little kids can behave however they want. Now, most people hear this argument and disagree with me. I will modify it. Little kids are not supposed to behave in certain ways, but if (and when) they do, society excuses them anyway. How many times have you been out in public, and seen a little kid throw an absolute fit? It happens. It's not pleasant. No one likes it when they do, but they're little kids and we let it slide. They're still learning, we tell ourselves. I have had numerous days where things just did not go my way. Maybe I was tired, cranky, hungry, or all three. Maybe I was forced to go somewhere I didn't want to be, or maybe someone else was playing with something of mine. I admit it, it would feel great to scream and shout about it. Sometimes the perfect catharsis is crying and stamping your feet. However, being adults, we can't do that. The police might be called. You would be responsible for your actions. When a little kid throws a fit. People don't blame him. It's hard being a kid. They approach his/her parents and say "if you cannot get your child under control, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Sure, maybe the parents reprimand the child, but in the grand scheme of things they got away with it.
Little kids don't really have to walk anywhere if they don't want to. Go on a family hike. You can try to force your five year old to walk the whole thing, but if she whines enough, you'll pick her up. You'll probably actually enjoy carrying her around on your back. Anyone want to hike up a mountain with me on your back? Didn't think so.
I think the perfect age is four. You're old enough to start talking, but too young to understand the things you can't do. You don't miss out on bars and dating, because they aren't things your interested in. You can play with toys. You can be adorable. Everyone wants to talk to you, and they usually have nice things to say. There are really no responsibilities. You can wear a batman costume to school, and a princess dress to the post-office. You can cry when your mommy makes fish sticks for dinner, and you can twirl around the back yards of the world for hours without a care in the world.
Mood: Amused
Have I ever told you about how and why I think little kids are the greatest? Really their lives rule, and I'm super jealous. Have you ever really thought about it?
Little kids can wear whatever they want, and it's adorable. Have you been to the zoo recently? You'll see kids there in all types of garments. It could be the middle of July, and a four year-old will be wearing a snow suit as overalls. I mean you'll feel bad because he's probably sweating up a storm, but it's so freaking cute you can't help but snicker. Also, kids can wear mismatched outfits whenever they please. They can wear capes out in public, and no one even bats an eye. Even better: they compliment them. Now, imagine 23 year old Me, going to the grocery store, in two different pairs of long socks, plaid shorts, a polka dotted shirt, with a cape around my shoulders, and a ten gallon hat. If you walked past me you would not smile and compliment my outfit. You would not come up to me and say, (with pride flowing out of you) "did you dress yourself this morning?" You would wonder what was wrong with me. You might hide your children, or clutch your purse a little tighter. You'd probably make fun of me behind my back.
Little kids can behave however they want. Now, most people hear this argument and disagree with me. I will modify it. Little kids are not supposed to behave in certain ways, but if (and when) they do, society excuses them anyway. How many times have you been out in public, and seen a little kid throw an absolute fit? It happens. It's not pleasant. No one likes it when they do, but they're little kids and we let it slide. They're still learning, we tell ourselves. I have had numerous days where things just did not go my way. Maybe I was tired, cranky, hungry, or all three. Maybe I was forced to go somewhere I didn't want to be, or maybe someone else was playing with something of mine. I admit it, it would feel great to scream and shout about it. Sometimes the perfect catharsis is crying and stamping your feet. However, being adults, we can't do that. The police might be called. You would be responsible for your actions. When a little kid throws a fit. People don't blame him. It's hard being a kid. They approach his/her parents and say "if you cannot get your child under control, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Sure, maybe the parents reprimand the child, but in the grand scheme of things they got away with it.
Little kids don't really have to walk anywhere if they don't want to. Go on a family hike. You can try to force your five year old to walk the whole thing, but if she whines enough, you'll pick her up. You'll probably actually enjoy carrying her around on your back. Anyone want to hike up a mountain with me on your back? Didn't think so.
I think the perfect age is four. You're old enough to start talking, but too young to understand the things you can't do. You don't miss out on bars and dating, because they aren't things your interested in. You can play with toys. You can be adorable. Everyone wants to talk to you, and they usually have nice things to say. There are really no responsibilities. You can wear a batman costume to school, and a princess dress to the post-office. You can cry when your mommy makes fish sticks for dinner, and you can twirl around the back yards of the world for hours without a care in the world.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Peope are Despicable
If you were alive and breathing at all these past few weeks you probably noticed that the largest pop icon in the world isn't.
I was a little shocked by my reaction to this news. It made me sad. I'm not saying that I'm heartless or anything. Not in the least. I just didn't think I cared that much. I thought that I would probably react as I do to the news of any celebrity dying. That reaction is one of mild upset but mostly vague indifference. It's a reaction that is best summed up with a shrug and a calm "huh, that's too bad." This is the reaction that I expected to the news of Michael Jackson's death.
Instead, I was momentarily stunned. After that, I began to remember every time he popped up in the media during my life. I was honestly saddened by the news, and then I was upset at what I knew was about to come. I knew that people were going to have mixed reactions. I knew that many people were going to look at this as fodder for idiots. I knew that people were going to be making jokes that were in extremely poor taste, and comments that were outrageously inappropriate.
I was not let down.
What I want to say to these people is this: You didn't know him. You don't know any celebrities.
We tend to think that because someone is on our tv, or singing through our radios that we know who they are. This is not the case. Yes, celebrities are the people we see in the media, but is that all they are? They have private lives that we will never know anything about.
I am not denying that some odd things happened in Michael Jackson's life. In the last decade or so, he was in the media for a number of strange things, but no one knows what actually happened. None of us knows what he did or didn't do. It bothers me that people feel like it's okay to pass judgment on this man. He did more with his life than most people will ever do.
I was watching his public memorial today, and there were moments when I was moved by the words of his loved ones. These are famous people, who I am sure many people feel like they know. Many of them we love and celebrate, but for some reason we don't take that into consideration? Notice how many people showed up to pay the respects to this man. Notice how large his family is. Notice how devoted his friends are. Say what you want about what you think his personal life may have been like, but you have to admit there's a possibility you're wrong. If this man was as deeply disturbed and perverse as you assume he was, how could he have amassed such a support system. Why would celebrities who make a living off of their reputations stand up to support him?
Most importantly: How would you feel if it was your life people had misunderstood? How would you feel if people passed judgment on your personality because of some quirky traits? How would you if a beloved member of your family passed away, and then random people began to joke about it?
Respect.
I was a little shocked by my reaction to this news. It made me sad. I'm not saying that I'm heartless or anything. Not in the least. I just didn't think I cared that much. I thought that I would probably react as I do to the news of any celebrity dying. That reaction is one of mild upset but mostly vague indifference. It's a reaction that is best summed up with a shrug and a calm "huh, that's too bad." This is the reaction that I expected to the news of Michael Jackson's death.
Instead, I was momentarily stunned. After that, I began to remember every time he popped up in the media during my life. I was honestly saddened by the news, and then I was upset at what I knew was about to come. I knew that people were going to have mixed reactions. I knew that many people were going to look at this as fodder for idiots. I knew that people were going to be making jokes that were in extremely poor taste, and comments that were outrageously inappropriate.
I was not let down.
What I want to say to these people is this: You didn't know him. You don't know any celebrities.
We tend to think that because someone is on our tv, or singing through our radios that we know who they are. This is not the case. Yes, celebrities are the people we see in the media, but is that all they are? They have private lives that we will never know anything about.
I am not denying that some odd things happened in Michael Jackson's life. In the last decade or so, he was in the media for a number of strange things, but no one knows what actually happened. None of us knows what he did or didn't do. It bothers me that people feel like it's okay to pass judgment on this man. He did more with his life than most people will ever do.
I was watching his public memorial today, and there were moments when I was moved by the words of his loved ones. These are famous people, who I am sure many people feel like they know. Many of them we love and celebrate, but for some reason we don't take that into consideration? Notice how many people showed up to pay the respects to this man. Notice how large his family is. Notice how devoted his friends are. Say what you want about what you think his personal life may have been like, but you have to admit there's a possibility you're wrong. If this man was as deeply disturbed and perverse as you assume he was, how could he have amassed such a support system. Why would celebrities who make a living off of their reputations stand up to support him?
Most importantly: How would you feel if it was your life people had misunderstood? How would you feel if people passed judgment on your personality because of some quirky traits? How would you if a beloved member of your family passed away, and then random people began to joke about it?
Respect.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A Storm's A Comin'
Do you ever have those moments when you see that something is about to happen? You know, moments in life where you can tell the shit is just about to hit the fan?
I’m having one of those right now.
The worst part is there’s nothing I can do about it. This thing is going to happen regardless of what I do. I can try to steer it one way or another, but it won’t make that much of a difference. All hell is about to break loose regardless of my interference.
I’ve decided that the best thing I can do is remove myself from it as much as possible. Sound like a good idea? I thought so too. The problem is, I can’t even do that completely. This thing that I sit on the precipice of involves my loved ones. I’m emotionally involved. Like it or not. I’m trying to prepare myself, but what can you do?
I promise the funny blogs will come back eventually. I’m suffering from writers’ block.
I’m having one of those right now.
The worst part is there’s nothing I can do about it. This thing is going to happen regardless of what I do. I can try to steer it one way or another, but it won’t make that much of a difference. All hell is about to break loose regardless of my interference.
I’ve decided that the best thing I can do is remove myself from it as much as possible. Sound like a good idea? I thought so too. The problem is, I can’t even do that completely. This thing that I sit on the precipice of involves my loved ones. I’m emotionally involved. Like it or not. I’m trying to prepare myself, but what can you do?
I promise the funny blogs will come back eventually. I’m suffering from writers’ block.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Not Your Average Blog.
Mood: accomplished
This may be dumb, but here goes. As some of you may already know, I have been writing a book. It started out as something fun to pass the time, but it’s really coming along. I just finished my fifth chapter, and am part way through the sixth! I decided recently that I actually want to try and get it published. I don’t know if that is just a stupid desire. It might never happen, but I know that it’s something I want to try. Think how proud I would be of myself!
I finally figured out what is happening with one of my main characters. It’s really weird, slightly mystical, and definitely interesting. Once I came up with it, the character has been so much more fun to write. I’m not going to tell you what is happening to him, but what I will do is show you. Realize that this was my first attempt at writing it, and it might have MANY flaws. However, I had a lot of fun writing it, and now I want to share it with someone. It’s just an excerpt from the chapter and not the whole thing.
Back story: They are two 16 year old kids. Blake and Maggie. Blake’s family all go to a very exclusive private school for boys in the next town. Blake went there for a few months, but didn’t like it at all. So, he moved in with his older sister and her family in order to go back to his old school.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“So, how come you don’t go to Alpha?” I asked Blake one Friday after school. Jackson had to stay after for a CLUB meeting so we had the Lancer to ourselves.
“Sick of me already?” He feigned worry.
“You know what I mean.” I laughed. We were stuck in the crowded school parking lot. Everyone was in a hurry to get to their weekends. So, naturally, it took us all forever to get out.
Blake let the car idle and looked at me. “Actually, I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at. I didn’t want to go there.” His blue eyes danced in the sunlight. I was mesmerized. It took me a moment to remember what I was asking about. Even then I couldn’t speak. It was like I had no choice. I was stuck staring into his eyes until the line of cars moved, and Blake redirected his.
I cleared my throat. Trying to regain my train of thought I said, “Well, you said it was important to your dad.”
He nodded.
“Then, he uprooted his whole life and moved to Salem.” I went on.
“You make it sound like he moved to Calcutta.” He laughed.
“How so?”
“Salem isn’t that far away. It’s a half an hour drive. Maximum. It wasn’t that big of a move. Plus, it’s a nice town. Close to the city, and his family all lives there. I’m sure he would have gone back sooner or later.”
“But I thought that he wanted you to go to his Alma mater or whatever.”
“Yeah, maybe that was the driving force. But, like I said, it was bound to happen.”
“Why’s that?” I was curious.
“He and my uncle Noah have been working things out. They’re family you know. Brothers. I guess they don’t want to loose that bond, or can’t. Whatever.” He shrugged.
“But that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “Being away from your family I mean.”
“I’m living with my family Mags.” Blake rolled his eyes. Again, I’d missed the obvious. “My sister is awesome. My dad doesn’t really get it, but he’s my dad. You know? I’m not going to loose him. I couldn’t if I tried.”
I thought about that for a second. It made perfect sense I looked out the window. We were on the street now. Driving home.
“You didn’t answer my question though,” I reminded him.
“What’s that?” He said tilting his head toward me.
I sighed. “What’s the deal with Alpha Blake?”
“Oh, that.” His face got suddenly serious. “Well, it’s a weird school Mags.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. I just unbuttoned my jacket and waited for him to go on.
“I know my dad and Noah went there. And my cousins go there now, but it’s just not for me.” Blake was noticeably troubled now. “Those just aren’t my people.”
I shook my head, and looked to turn down the heat. “What do you mean?” It was hard for me to imagine Blake not fitting in anywhere. He was so fun-loving and care-free. People just gravitated to him. I did. That anyone wouldn’t like him was beyond my comprehension.
“Everyone there is so full-of-it.” He was very serious now. The atmosphere was charged with his agitation. The air felt hot and thick. The change was so drastic that it took me aback. I tugged my coat off and double checked that the heat was off.
“They all think that they’re better than everyone else,” Blake went on. “It’s like they think they’re…I don’t know…Like they’re something more than the rest of us. All of them. Even the teachers. They just think their too good for society. It’s hard to explain. They don’t understand how I can have normal friends.”
“Normal friends?” I asked rolling down my window.
He pinched his nose between his eyebrows. Then he gesticulated wildly. “You know, people outside of the freak-school.”
“So, it’s not a good school?” I asked, bewildered by his behavior.
His lips tightened and he leaned his head from side to side while he decided on how to answer. “I mean, it’s alright. It’s got to be. Look at who it’s turned out.” He listed some of the more famous alumni. I was aware of some of them, and surprised by a few other names.” But the whole place is just surreal. It’s almost medieval.”
“Medieval?”
“The halls are lit with torches for god’s sake!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head at remembering the oddity. “But the classes are just weird.”
Nervous about upsetting him, I began to sweat, but curious to learn more I asked, “how?”
He let out a frustrated sigh, but continued for me. “Well, it’s normal lessons, but they’re all kind of colored with this bizarre brush.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed again, and it almost sounded like a growl. “Well, science, history, civics. It’s all there, but it’s different.” He looked at me, and could tell that I didn’t really understand. “I guess you’d have to go to know. It’s so hard to explain. But, it was like we were learning someone else’s theories. Like it’s not how things really are, just what we’re supposed to believe.”
“They said that?” I wiped my brow.
“Didn’t have to.” He waved his free hand into the air. “They all believe it. The normal rules of society don’t apply to those guys Mags.” He let out another frustrated grunt. I could tell that he was uncomfortable talking about this.
“And there’s something about them that’s just… I dunno.” He shuddered.
“Creepy.”
We sat in the car in silence. My mind was abuzz with information. I had so many new questions. Why were they like that? What were the lessons like exactly? Why were they so secretive? Torches? Was his family the same way? Creepy? His cousins? Noah maybe, but his dad? I wanted to ask him everything, but I didn’t.
Blake was starting to relax again. He was calmer. I had stopped sweating. The air was cooler. I sensed that it was probably best to leave things alone for now.
I looked around and realized that we had driven past the turn-off to my house. I must have really upset him.
“Forget where I live champ?” I teased him.
He laughed, and I relaxed even more. “No. I’m taking you to meet my sister.”
“Oh.” I said, stupidly.
He raised one of his eyebrows. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. Now I was agitated. “Cool.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Later on Maggie witnesses an interaction between Blake and his dad that is, well...it’s weird:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Alone now, I peered out from behind the blinds. Blake had met his father at the beat-up old truck. I guess his uncle’s extreme generosity didn’t extend to his brother. Strange. As they talked, I took in as much of Blake’s dad as I could. His back was to me, but I could tell that Blake’s dad had the same build as his son. He was slightly taller, but he slouched so that they stood at the same height. He was older than I expected. His hair was mostly gray. Even from behind I could tell that the years hadn’t been exactly kind to this man. His posture almost seemed defeated.
While I watched, the old man grabbed one of his son’s arms. He leaned in close like he was sharing something secret. Then, Blake’s face went from friendly to frustrated in a flash. He tried to pull away, but his father held his arm firmly and spoke to him. Blake then shook his head and pulled his hands away violently.
The old man pulled away too. He recoiled momentarily, shaking his hands as though they’d been burnt. Then, he stood up tall and pointed to his son’s arms. At this, Blake rolled his eyes. Then he paused when he saw what his father was referring to. His eyes seemed to bulge for a fraction of a second, but then it was gone. He smiled half-heartedly, and said something that looked like “you’re crazy.”
His dad spoke again, for a while. This time Blake nodded. He spoke to his father more calmly now. Then he pointed to his car and the house behind it.
That’s when it happened. Blake’s father turned around. His eyes followed his son’s hand. He looked to the house. Quickly, I ducked behind the window dressings. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it.
His dad’s bright red face was horribly scarred. One of his dark eyes was smaller than the other. The skin around it had been remolded so that it barely seemed open. His nose looked as if it had been melted off, and then reshaped by a child. His mouth was crooked, and raised glossy bumps covered his cheeks.
He was grotesque, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Even though I ducked behind the drapery, I got the very distinct sense that he saw me. Blake’s dad was looking right where I stood. He was staring directly at me with his monstrously mismatched eyes. He glared at me. His expression clearly said that he didn’t like me. No, he loathed me. His eyes burned with hatred. Blake’s dad saw me, and he hated me.
My blood ran cold.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Okay, so tell me what you think.
This may be dumb, but here goes. As some of you may already know, I have been writing a book. It started out as something fun to pass the time, but it’s really coming along. I just finished my fifth chapter, and am part way through the sixth! I decided recently that I actually want to try and get it published. I don’t know if that is just a stupid desire. It might never happen, but I know that it’s something I want to try. Think how proud I would be of myself!
I finally figured out what is happening with one of my main characters. It’s really weird, slightly mystical, and definitely interesting. Once I came up with it, the character has been so much more fun to write. I’m not going to tell you what is happening to him, but what I will do is show you. Realize that this was my first attempt at writing it, and it might have MANY flaws. However, I had a lot of fun writing it, and now I want to share it with someone. It’s just an excerpt from the chapter and not the whole thing.
Back story: They are two 16 year old kids. Blake and Maggie. Blake’s family all go to a very exclusive private school for boys in the next town. Blake went there for a few months, but didn’t like it at all. So, he moved in with his older sister and her family in order to go back to his old school.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“So, how come you don’t go to Alpha?” I asked Blake one Friday after school. Jackson had to stay after for a CLUB meeting so we had the Lancer to ourselves.
“Sick of me already?” He feigned worry.
“You know what I mean.” I laughed. We were stuck in the crowded school parking lot. Everyone was in a hurry to get to their weekends. So, naturally, it took us all forever to get out.
Blake let the car idle and looked at me. “Actually, I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at. I didn’t want to go there.” His blue eyes danced in the sunlight. I was mesmerized. It took me a moment to remember what I was asking about. Even then I couldn’t speak. It was like I had no choice. I was stuck staring into his eyes until the line of cars moved, and Blake redirected his.
I cleared my throat. Trying to regain my train of thought I said, “Well, you said it was important to your dad.”
He nodded.
“Then, he uprooted his whole life and moved to Salem.” I went on.
“You make it sound like he moved to Calcutta.” He laughed.
“How so?”
“Salem isn’t that far away. It’s a half an hour drive. Maximum. It wasn’t that big of a move. Plus, it’s a nice town. Close to the city, and his family all lives there. I’m sure he would have gone back sooner or later.”
“But I thought that he wanted you to go to his Alma mater or whatever.”
“Yeah, maybe that was the driving force. But, like I said, it was bound to happen.”
“Why’s that?” I was curious.
“He and my uncle Noah have been working things out. They’re family you know. Brothers. I guess they don’t want to loose that bond, or can’t. Whatever.” He shrugged.
“But that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “Being away from your family I mean.”
“I’m living with my family Mags.” Blake rolled his eyes. Again, I’d missed the obvious. “My sister is awesome. My dad doesn’t really get it, but he’s my dad. You know? I’m not going to loose him. I couldn’t if I tried.”
I thought about that for a second. It made perfect sense I looked out the window. We were on the street now. Driving home.
“You didn’t answer my question though,” I reminded him.
“What’s that?” He said tilting his head toward me.
I sighed. “What’s the deal with Alpha Blake?”
“Oh, that.” His face got suddenly serious. “Well, it’s a weird school Mags.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. I just unbuttoned my jacket and waited for him to go on.
“I know my dad and Noah went there. And my cousins go there now, but it’s just not for me.” Blake was noticeably troubled now. “Those just aren’t my people.”
I shook my head, and looked to turn down the heat. “What do you mean?” It was hard for me to imagine Blake not fitting in anywhere. He was so fun-loving and care-free. People just gravitated to him. I did. That anyone wouldn’t like him was beyond my comprehension.
“Everyone there is so full-of-it.” He was very serious now. The atmosphere was charged with his agitation. The air felt hot and thick. The change was so drastic that it took me aback. I tugged my coat off and double checked that the heat was off.
“They all think that they’re better than everyone else,” Blake went on. “It’s like they think they’re…I don’t know…Like they’re something more than the rest of us. All of them. Even the teachers. They just think their too good for society. It’s hard to explain. They don’t understand how I can have normal friends.”
“Normal friends?” I asked rolling down my window.
He pinched his nose between his eyebrows. Then he gesticulated wildly. “You know, people outside of the freak-school.”
“So, it’s not a good school?” I asked, bewildered by his behavior.
His lips tightened and he leaned his head from side to side while he decided on how to answer. “I mean, it’s alright. It’s got to be. Look at who it’s turned out.” He listed some of the more famous alumni. I was aware of some of them, and surprised by a few other names.” But the whole place is just surreal. It’s almost medieval.”
“Medieval?”
“The halls are lit with torches for god’s sake!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head at remembering the oddity. “But the classes are just weird.”
Nervous about upsetting him, I began to sweat, but curious to learn more I asked, “how?”
He let out a frustrated sigh, but continued for me. “Well, it’s normal lessons, but they’re all kind of colored with this bizarre brush.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed again, and it almost sounded like a growl. “Well, science, history, civics. It’s all there, but it’s different.” He looked at me, and could tell that I didn’t really understand. “I guess you’d have to go to know. It’s so hard to explain. But, it was like we were learning someone else’s theories. Like it’s not how things really are, just what we’re supposed to believe.”
“They said that?” I wiped my brow.
“Didn’t have to.” He waved his free hand into the air. “They all believe it. The normal rules of society don’t apply to those guys Mags.” He let out another frustrated grunt. I could tell that he was uncomfortable talking about this.
“And there’s something about them that’s just… I dunno.” He shuddered.
“Creepy.”
We sat in the car in silence. My mind was abuzz with information. I had so many new questions. Why were they like that? What were the lessons like exactly? Why were they so secretive? Torches? Was his family the same way? Creepy? His cousins? Noah maybe, but his dad? I wanted to ask him everything, but I didn’t.
Blake was starting to relax again. He was calmer. I had stopped sweating. The air was cooler. I sensed that it was probably best to leave things alone for now.
I looked around and realized that we had driven past the turn-off to my house. I must have really upset him.
“Forget where I live champ?” I teased him.
He laughed, and I relaxed even more. “No. I’m taking you to meet my sister.”
“Oh.” I said, stupidly.
He raised one of his eyebrows. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. Now I was agitated. “Cool.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Later on Maggie witnesses an interaction between Blake and his dad that is, well...it’s weird:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Alone now, I peered out from behind the blinds. Blake had met his father at the beat-up old truck. I guess his uncle’s extreme generosity didn’t extend to his brother. Strange. As they talked, I took in as much of Blake’s dad as I could. His back was to me, but I could tell that Blake’s dad had the same build as his son. He was slightly taller, but he slouched so that they stood at the same height. He was older than I expected. His hair was mostly gray. Even from behind I could tell that the years hadn’t been exactly kind to this man. His posture almost seemed defeated.
While I watched, the old man grabbed one of his son’s arms. He leaned in close like he was sharing something secret. Then, Blake’s face went from friendly to frustrated in a flash. He tried to pull away, but his father held his arm firmly and spoke to him. Blake then shook his head and pulled his hands away violently.
The old man pulled away too. He recoiled momentarily, shaking his hands as though they’d been burnt. Then, he stood up tall and pointed to his son’s arms. At this, Blake rolled his eyes. Then he paused when he saw what his father was referring to. His eyes seemed to bulge for a fraction of a second, but then it was gone. He smiled half-heartedly, and said something that looked like “you’re crazy.”
His dad spoke again, for a while. This time Blake nodded. He spoke to his father more calmly now. Then he pointed to his car and the house behind it.
That’s when it happened. Blake’s father turned around. His eyes followed his son’s hand. He looked to the house. Quickly, I ducked behind the window dressings. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it.
His dad’s bright red face was horribly scarred. One of his dark eyes was smaller than the other. The skin around it had been remolded so that it barely seemed open. His nose looked as if it had been melted off, and then reshaped by a child. His mouth was crooked, and raised glossy bumps covered his cheeks.
He was grotesque, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Even though I ducked behind the drapery, I got the very distinct sense that he saw me. Blake’s dad was looking right where I stood. He was staring directly at me with his monstrously mismatched eyes. He glared at me. His expression clearly said that he didn’t like me. No, he loathed me. His eyes burned with hatred. Blake’s dad saw me, and he hated me.
My blood ran cold.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Okay, so tell me what you think.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Fun Story Time: Warning it's about a potty-type situation.
Mood: embarrassed
If you know me at all, you know that I have a ridiculous fear of rats and mice. Pretty self explanatory. I hate their tails. Their beady little eyes. Their teeth. The fact that they are disease-ridden. You know that they all just want to bite you, and give you rabies and god knows what else. I can’t talk about this right now I’m getting all stressed out.
You may also know that I have a totally irrational fear of toilets. Weird I know. I can’t totally explain it. I think it stems partially from a blacked-out potty training trauma. Also, I’ve always secretly suspected that the upstairs bathroom at my house is haunted. So much so that when I was little I was scared to go to the bathroom at night. When I was too old to pee my bed, I would usually hold it till morning and sprint down the hall first thing. When I either couldn’t hold it, or managed to convince myself that there was no such thing as ghosts {probably} I would use it but I would NEVER flush at night. I was convinced the loud flushing noise was a demon roaring at me from the depths of hell (or the plumbing system...whatever). This last point was further exacerbated by a little movie called “Look Who’s Talking Too.” Say what you want about that film, my psyche, whatever, but there is a talking toilet scene in that film that scarred me. Later in life I would say it was out of courtesy to my parents. " I didn’t want to wake them", I'd say. Don't believe that line. This fear, as I said, is totally irrational, and as I can’t avoid it I use the bathroom regardless.
Anyway, the two fears may seem like they'd never meet, but you’d be wrong. They actually come into contact with one another on an almost daily basis. When I was in middle school I heard a story on the radio about rats living in sewers. I’m sure you’ve probably heard this old wives tale, but the story was about a woman who discovered a rat in her toilet. *Alright I’m getting nervous.* This woman did not just discover a disease infested rabid rat in her toilet by stumbling upon it one morning before doing her business. Oh no. This woman discovered the rat WHILE doing her business. Oh god! Yes, that’s right. It bit her. Right in the tuckus!! OH GOD!!!
Needless to say, I have never really been the same. Although I know it probably never happens, I still have a hard time getting past the nervousness that is me KNOWING a rat will be biting me on my ass this time.
It’s never happened.
So fun story time now:
At work I have all kinds of issues with using the bathroom. These issues are unrelated to my irrational fears, but are no doubt exacerbated by them. These stories are for another day and another time. The story I want to tell you about is how I thoroughly embarrassed myself at my place of employment this week. I went to the bathroom, and I set up the toilet with one of those sheets (what are they called?).
In case you’re wondering, I don’t do this anywhere else. I don’t mind the germs. But, for some reason, I'm worried about them at my work.I know. I’m weird.
Anyway, so I put the sheet down, and then I do my business. I’ll spare you the details. Except that you need to know, if you don’t already, that it was freaking hot this week. So I was kind of sweaty. When I stood up afterward the sheet came along with me. It stuck to my sweaty legs.
Well, naturally I thought this was it. The big one. Obviously a disgusting disease-ridden beastie was attacking me! So, yes… I screamed.
I hope you enjoyed that little story. The end is not as spectacular… thankfully. There was not anyone outside in the hallway. Or maybe there was, and they heard me scream and ran away. Who knows. But regardless of who heard me, I feel like an idiot. It was a toilet protector people!
Hope you enjoyed that.
Oh. Side note: If you youtube search “Look Who’s Talking Too toilet” you get a bunch of Jonas brothers videos...Explanation please?
1 comment
Monica Heistand wrote at 11:39pm May 29th, 2009
I love you mindy!! that is hilarious!!!!!
If you know me at all, you know that I have a ridiculous fear of rats and mice. Pretty self explanatory. I hate their tails. Their beady little eyes. Their teeth. The fact that they are disease-ridden. You know that they all just want to bite you, and give you rabies and god knows what else. I can’t talk about this right now I’m getting all stressed out.
You may also know that I have a totally irrational fear of toilets. Weird I know. I can’t totally explain it. I think it stems partially from a blacked-out potty training trauma. Also, I’ve always secretly suspected that the upstairs bathroom at my house is haunted. So much so that when I was little I was scared to go to the bathroom at night. When I was too old to pee my bed, I would usually hold it till morning and sprint down the hall first thing. When I either couldn’t hold it, or managed to convince myself that there was no such thing as ghosts {probably} I would use it but I would NEVER flush at night. I was convinced the loud flushing noise was a demon roaring at me from the depths of hell (or the plumbing system...whatever). This last point was further exacerbated by a little movie called “Look Who’s Talking Too.” Say what you want about that film, my psyche, whatever, but there is a talking toilet scene in that film that scarred me. Later in life I would say it was out of courtesy to my parents. " I didn’t want to wake them", I'd say. Don't believe that line. This fear, as I said, is totally irrational, and as I can’t avoid it I use the bathroom regardless.
Anyway, the two fears may seem like they'd never meet, but you’d be wrong. They actually come into contact with one another on an almost daily basis. When I was in middle school I heard a story on the radio about rats living in sewers. I’m sure you’ve probably heard this old wives tale, but the story was about a woman who discovered a rat in her toilet. *Alright I’m getting nervous.* This woman did not just discover a disease infested rabid rat in her toilet by stumbling upon it one morning before doing her business. Oh no. This woman discovered the rat WHILE doing her business. Oh god! Yes, that’s right. It bit her. Right in the tuckus!! OH GOD!!!
Needless to say, I have never really been the same. Although I know it probably never happens, I still have a hard time getting past the nervousness that is me KNOWING a rat will be biting me on my ass this time.
It’s never happened.
So fun story time now:
At work I have all kinds of issues with using the bathroom. These issues are unrelated to my irrational fears, but are no doubt exacerbated by them. These stories are for another day and another time. The story I want to tell you about is how I thoroughly embarrassed myself at my place of employment this week. I went to the bathroom, and I set up the toilet with one of those sheets (what are they called?).
In case you’re wondering, I don’t do this anywhere else. I don’t mind the germs. But, for some reason, I'm worried about them at my work.I know. I’m weird.
Anyway, so I put the sheet down, and then I do my business. I’ll spare you the details. Except that you need to know, if you don’t already, that it was freaking hot this week. So I was kind of sweaty. When I stood up afterward the sheet came along with me. It stuck to my sweaty legs.
Well, naturally I thought this was it. The big one. Obviously a disgusting disease-ridden beastie was attacking me! So, yes… I screamed.
I hope you enjoyed that little story. The end is not as spectacular… thankfully. There was not anyone outside in the hallway. Or maybe there was, and they heard me scream and ran away. Who knows. But regardless of who heard me, I feel like an idiot. It was a toilet protector people!
Hope you enjoyed that.
Oh. Side note: If you youtube search “Look Who’s Talking Too toilet” you get a bunch of Jonas brothers videos...Explanation please?
1 comment
Monica Heistand wrote at 11:39pm May 29th, 2009
I love you mindy!! that is hilarious!!!!!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Nothing in Particular
Location: Alpenrose Velodrome.
Mood: tired
Today I was thinking. Well, okay, actually I’ll let you in on a little secret: I think everyday. I’m always thinking. My brain thinks. I’m a thinker.... Today was a special case of thinking. Obviously. That’s why I’m writing about it.
The point Mindy?
Right, sorry. I don’t talk much to people I don’t know. I've always wondered why. It’s not like I don’t know how to talk. When I do, people seem to like me...I haven’t really figured that one out yet. It’s not like I don’t think of questions. Sure, I tend not to think of small talk questions. Things like “what’s your name?” and “What do you do for a living?” don’t occur to me. I think more along the lines of, “I wonder what his childhood was like.” and “why does she have those mannerisms.” Not things you can ask acquaintances without them thinking your weird. But there’s always been more to my quietness than just that.
Then today it occurred to me. I also don’t like to pry. I was standing with a woman who I have known for most (if not all of) my life. This whole time she’s been married to the same man. They seem very happy. We were at a birthday party, and her husband wasn’t there. I was thinking. Here’s what my thought process went like.
“I wonder where her husband is. Maybe he had something to do. Just ask her where he is. I can’t ask her that. Well why not? It’s a perfectly valid question What if they had a fight? or Worse, what if they’re separated and getting a divorce?! I don’t want to remind her. Well, if it’s happening she knows it’s happening so you won’t be reminding her of something she’s forgotten. Plus, they’re probably fine. Yeah, but what if they’re not fine and I’m the one who reminded her? Oh god just ask!”
After about two minutes of that I finally asked. He stayed home because he wanted to do the laundry. Very mundane.
So this thought process set me analyzing myself. (Like I so often do). I realized that earlier in the day a similar thing had happened to me. A man I have known my whole life was at this bike race that I was at. He had a band aid on his cheek. I wanted to ask him about it, but I didn’t because… Well, here is what my thought process went like.
“I wonder why he has that band aid on his face. It kind of looks like it might have just been a scratch. It’s right in the middle of his cheek. Actually, it looks more like he had a mole, or something cancerous removed. I should ask him about the band aid. But what if it was cancerous and that upsets him? True he doesn’t get upset that often, but what if I’m the one who upsets him by asking. What if it’s something stupid and he’s embarrassed? Plus, I bet everyone has been asking him about it all day. I won’t ask.”
I never asked, but once I realized my problem I wondered why not. It’s not like this man was unaware of the band aid on his face. Like if I had asked he’d go, “what band aid?” Or if he’d had a mole removed, it’s not like he wouldn’t know it had been removed. Even f he was embarrassed, it’s not like that’s my fault. Plus, if he was THAT embarrassed maybe he just shouldn’t have gone out in public with the band aid on.
So, I guess maybe my point is that I over think things. Often I wonder about deep things and don’t care about the superficial. I hate to pry. And, I’m too concerned about upsetting other people.
The End
Mood: tired
Today I was thinking. Well, okay, actually I’ll let you in on a little secret: I think everyday. I’m always thinking. My brain thinks. I’m a thinker.... Today was a special case of thinking. Obviously. That’s why I’m writing about it.
The point Mindy?
Right, sorry. I don’t talk much to people I don’t know. I've always wondered why. It’s not like I don’t know how to talk. When I do, people seem to like me...I haven’t really figured that one out yet. It’s not like I don’t think of questions. Sure, I tend not to think of small talk questions. Things like “what’s your name?” and “What do you do for a living?” don’t occur to me. I think more along the lines of, “I wonder what his childhood was like.” and “why does she have those mannerisms.” Not things you can ask acquaintances without them thinking your weird. But there’s always been more to my quietness than just that.
Then today it occurred to me. I also don’t like to pry. I was standing with a woman who I have known for most (if not all of) my life. This whole time she’s been married to the same man. They seem very happy. We were at a birthday party, and her husband wasn’t there. I was thinking. Here’s what my thought process went like.
“I wonder where her husband is. Maybe he had something to do. Just ask her where he is. I can’t ask her that. Well why not? It’s a perfectly valid question What if they had a fight? or Worse, what if they’re separated and getting a divorce?! I don’t want to remind her. Well, if it’s happening she knows it’s happening so you won’t be reminding her of something she’s forgotten. Plus, they’re probably fine. Yeah, but what if they’re not fine and I’m the one who reminded her? Oh god just ask!”
After about two minutes of that I finally asked. He stayed home because he wanted to do the laundry. Very mundane.
So this thought process set me analyzing myself. (Like I so often do). I realized that earlier in the day a similar thing had happened to me. A man I have known my whole life was at this bike race that I was at. He had a band aid on his cheek. I wanted to ask him about it, but I didn’t because… Well, here is what my thought process went like.
“I wonder why he has that band aid on his face. It kind of looks like it might have just been a scratch. It’s right in the middle of his cheek. Actually, it looks more like he had a mole, or something cancerous removed. I should ask him about the band aid. But what if it was cancerous and that upsets him? True he doesn’t get upset that often, but what if I’m the one who upsets him by asking. What if it’s something stupid and he’s embarrassed? Plus, I bet everyone has been asking him about it all day. I won’t ask.”
I never asked, but once I realized my problem I wondered why not. It’s not like this man was unaware of the band aid on his face. Like if I had asked he’d go, “what band aid?” Or if he’d had a mole removed, it’s not like he wouldn’t know it had been removed. Even f he was embarrassed, it’s not like that’s my fault. Plus, if he was THAT embarrassed maybe he just shouldn’t have gone out in public with the band aid on.
So, I guess maybe my point is that I over think things. Often I wonder about deep things and don’t care about the superficial. I hate to pry. And, I’m too concerned about upsetting other people.
The End
Saturday, April 25, 2009
My "Special" Little Project
Location: Work/Home
Mood: artistic
So, one of my jobs is super boring. I sit in a room for 8 hours and wait for someone to bring their kid for me to look after. Right now there’s only one baby living there, and so I’m usually just sitting around. It is so boring it hurts my head, and I’ve been looking for something to do.
If you are a devoted Mindy-blog reader (and why wouldn’t you be?), then you know that I was toying with the idea of writing a book. I have decided to alleviate my work-time boredom by doing just that. I drew out a time line, and some character descriptions, and then I got kind of excited. It looks like I’m really doing this. Here’s hoping I get famous.
In all actuality it is kind of stupid. It’s about some teenagers (15-16 years-old). I haven’t fleshed out the main character, because I’m hoping that she’ll reveal herself to me in the process. I can’t decide if her name is Kathyrn Louise (friends call her Katie) or Margaret Louise (friends call her Maggie). I don’t know why I settled on Louise, but I did.
Anyway, that’s not what I was meaning to write about. This girl Katie/Maggie thinks her heart is broken at the beginning of the book (teenage romance). She doesn’t have many friends she’s close to, but a few of them band together to pull her out of her funk. In this she grows really close with one girl (a slightly shallow, but still caring girl named Vick) and develops deep feelings for another boy (yet unnamed). She and unnamed boy actually fall deeply in love. This is the real thing. It’s deep-seated and strong. Well, one day unnamed boy breaks up with her inexplicably. Poor Katie/Maggie, but she’s stubborn and refuses to believe that he didn’t feel the same way for her (because he did). Unnamed boy starts acting weird, and Katie/Maggie suspects foul play. She is determined to get to the root of it.
This is the part I haven’t really worked out yet. I’m not sure if unnamed boy (he really needs a name), is in a cult or if there’s something magical and mysterious that makes him do a 180°. I’ll get there. Also, I think that her boyfriend, from the beginning, Dean Greggor, is going to come back (as a friend) and help her solve the mystery. Dean is a super curious guy, and he likes figuring things out.
Wow, that was longer than what I thought it was going to be. The reason why I’m writing this at all is because I’ll probably want people to read it and give me their opinions and stuff. It’s a process, and I can’t be very objective about my own writing. So, if you are at all interested in reading my “special” little story, let me know. I’d love the help.
Mood: artistic
So, one of my jobs is super boring. I sit in a room for 8 hours and wait for someone to bring their kid for me to look after. Right now there’s only one baby living there, and so I’m usually just sitting around. It is so boring it hurts my head, and I’ve been looking for something to do.
If you are a devoted Mindy-blog reader (and why wouldn’t you be?), then you know that I was toying with the idea of writing a book. I have decided to alleviate my work-time boredom by doing just that. I drew out a time line, and some character descriptions, and then I got kind of excited. It looks like I’m really doing this. Here’s hoping I get famous.
In all actuality it is kind of stupid. It’s about some teenagers (15-16 years-old). I haven’t fleshed out the main character, because I’m hoping that she’ll reveal herself to me in the process. I can’t decide if her name is Kathyrn Louise (friends call her Katie) or Margaret Louise (friends call her Maggie). I don’t know why I settled on Louise, but I did.
Anyway, that’s not what I was meaning to write about. This girl Katie/Maggie thinks her heart is broken at the beginning of the book (teenage romance). She doesn’t have many friends she’s close to, but a few of them band together to pull her out of her funk. In this she grows really close with one girl (a slightly shallow, but still caring girl named Vick) and develops deep feelings for another boy (yet unnamed). She and unnamed boy actually fall deeply in love. This is the real thing. It’s deep-seated and strong. Well, one day unnamed boy breaks up with her inexplicably. Poor Katie/Maggie, but she’s stubborn and refuses to believe that he didn’t feel the same way for her (because he did). Unnamed boy starts acting weird, and Katie/Maggie suspects foul play. She is determined to get to the root of it.
This is the part I haven’t really worked out yet. I’m not sure if unnamed boy (he really needs a name), is in a cult or if there’s something magical and mysterious that makes him do a 180°. I’ll get there. Also, I think that her boyfriend, from the beginning, Dean Greggor, is going to come back (as a friend) and help her solve the mystery. Dean is a super curious guy, and he likes figuring things out.
Wow, that was longer than what I thought it was going to be. The reason why I’m writing this at all is because I’ll probably want people to read it and give me their opinions and stuff. It’s a process, and I can’t be very objective about my own writing. So, if you are at all interested in reading my “special” little story, let me know. I’d love the help.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
My Love Life
Location: EVERYWHERE
Mood: worried
Music: I'm Not Okay - My Chemical Romance
People, I am facing serious issues here…
SERIOUS…
My cute-detector is broken.
What is a cute-detector? you ask. (Good question!) A cute-detector is a piece of you (I’m unclear as to whether it’s in your brain or if it’s otherwise physiological) that tells you approximately how attractive someone is.
This is a serious problem that has the potential to cause some intense predicaments. It has been so long since I have dated anyone, since I’ve flirted, since I’ve had any kind of attention in anyway that I am now broken! I can’t tell if people are cute. It started out slowly. I just got excited over smiles from moderately attractive people. Now, its traumatic. My heart flutters when uggos even look in my general direction.
The other day I was hanging out with a friend, and a guy drove past us. I said, “he looks like he could be cute.” He parked his car, and got out. I’m not kidding here, he was Shamu’s first born.
Did I mention that this is a problem?
It’s gotten so bad that I’m starting to wonder about my age-detector. An age-detector, for those of you who couldn’t figure it out (seriously?), is the part of you that can detect approximately what age a person is. If this detector goes, then I am screwed. I’m genuinely worried that I’m going to go a little crazy over a 14 year old. Maybe I should start asking guys if they have their learners’ permits before I talk to them.
The biggest concern over this new development is I am a prime target for a 14 year old boy’s affection! Look at me! I look like I’m 14 myself. These boys look at me, assume I’m their age but with boobs, and they go wild.
I realize that this could be evolution's way of having my back. It’s like nature is telling me that it’s been so long since I’ve had any attention that I need to lower my standards and increase my odds. However, if my age-detector goes I’m in trouble.
I REPEAT:
THIS IS.
A.
PROBLEM!!!!
I need some attention. Anyone know any moderately attractive guys I can flirt with? I just need someone to pay attention to me for a little bit. If this doesn’t get resolve, next time you see me I’ll be driving my fat new boyfriend to the winter formal.
Mood: worried
Music: I'm Not Okay - My Chemical Romance
People, I am facing serious issues here…
SERIOUS…
My cute-detector is broken.
What is a cute-detector? you ask. (Good question!) A cute-detector is a piece of you (I’m unclear as to whether it’s in your brain or if it’s otherwise physiological) that tells you approximately how attractive someone is.
This is a serious problem that has the potential to cause some intense predicaments. It has been so long since I have dated anyone, since I’ve flirted, since I’ve had any kind of attention in anyway that I am now broken! I can’t tell if people are cute. It started out slowly. I just got excited over smiles from moderately attractive people. Now, its traumatic. My heart flutters when uggos even look in my general direction.
The other day I was hanging out with a friend, and a guy drove past us. I said, “he looks like he could be cute.” He parked his car, and got out. I’m not kidding here, he was Shamu’s first born.
Did I mention that this is a problem?
It’s gotten so bad that I’m starting to wonder about my age-detector. An age-detector, for those of you who couldn’t figure it out (seriously?), is the part of you that can detect approximately what age a person is. If this detector goes, then I am screwed. I’m genuinely worried that I’m going to go a little crazy over a 14 year old. Maybe I should start asking guys if they have their learners’ permits before I talk to them.
The biggest concern over this new development is I am a prime target for a 14 year old boy’s affection! Look at me! I look like I’m 14 myself. These boys look at me, assume I’m their age but with boobs, and they go wild.
I realize that this could be evolution's way of having my back. It’s like nature is telling me that it’s been so long since I’ve had any attention that I need to lower my standards and increase my odds. However, if my age-detector goes I’m in trouble.
I REPEAT:
THIS IS.
A.
PROBLEM!!!!
I need some attention. Anyone know any moderately attractive guys I can flirt with? I just need someone to pay attention to me for a little bit. If this doesn’t get resolve, next time you see me I’ll be driving my fat new boyfriend to the winter formal.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I Don't Know, I'm Not Proud of It, Please Stop Asking Me
Location: Alpenrose Velodrome.
Mood: tired
I went to an event that my parents put on each year. It isn’t really an event. Basically before the beginning of each track (velodrome) season, they have everyone come out and help them clean up and repaint the track. The weather was supposed to be nice, so I figured I’d go. Who knows, maybe I’d manage to wrangle myself a boyfriend.
As usual, everyone that knows me wants to know what I’m doing with my life these days. I’m still looking for a career, but I think even if I’d found one I would be sick and tired of being asked about it. It’s like when you hurt yourself. As soon as people see a cast it’s all they want to talk to you about, and you get irritated with telling and re-telling what happened to you. But, I haven’t found a career. I’ve got a job, and I’m still looking. I live at home with my Mommy and Daddy. Thank you very much.
I know that people mean well. I know that they are just trying to strike up conversation. I’m not too upset with them, but put yourself in my shoes. I feel like I should be wearing a sandwich board that reads:
“Hi, How are you? I’m alright Oh, I’m still looking (for a job). I’ve put in over 600 applications since June. I have a part time job making $9.50/hour. Putting that Bachelor’s to good use. Yes the economy sucks right now. No I don’t really want to hear your personal take on the economy, but you’re going to tell me anyway so I’ll listen. I live with my parents. I’m ready to move out. To save us some awkwardness, I’m going to look for a reasonable excuse to exit this conversation now. It was nice talking to you. Peace.”
Okay, it would have to be a rather large sandwich board, and I’m a small person. But I think it would save us all a lot of trouble.
1 comment
Nicole Pexton wrote
at 9:37pm April 19th, 2009
Yes! I have been known to run and hide from people who might have this conversation with me in public places.
What happened to talking about the weather?
Mood: tired
I went to an event that my parents put on each year. It isn’t really an event. Basically before the beginning of each track (velodrome) season, they have everyone come out and help them clean up and repaint the track. The weather was supposed to be nice, so I figured I’d go. Who knows, maybe I’d manage to wrangle myself a boyfriend.
As usual, everyone that knows me wants to know what I’m doing with my life these days. I’m still looking for a career, but I think even if I’d found one I would be sick and tired of being asked about it. It’s like when you hurt yourself. As soon as people see a cast it’s all they want to talk to you about, and you get irritated with telling and re-telling what happened to you. But, I haven’t found a career. I’ve got a job, and I’m still looking. I live at home with my Mommy and Daddy. Thank you very much.
I know that people mean well. I know that they are just trying to strike up conversation. I’m not too upset with them, but put yourself in my shoes. I feel like I should be wearing a sandwich board that reads:
“Hi, How are you? I’m alright Oh, I’m still looking (for a job). I’ve put in over 600 applications since June. I have a part time job making $9.50/hour. Putting that Bachelor’s to good use. Yes the economy sucks right now. No I don’t really want to hear your personal take on the economy, but you’re going to tell me anyway so I’ll listen. I live with my parents. I’m ready to move out. To save us some awkwardness, I’m going to look for a reasonable excuse to exit this conversation now. It was nice talking to you. Peace.”
Okay, it would have to be a rather large sandwich board, and I’m a small person. But I think it would save us all a lot of trouble.
1 comment
Nicole Pexton wrote
at 9:37pm April 19th, 2009
Yes! I have been known to run and hide from people who might have this conversation with me in public places.
What happened to talking about the weather?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
New Jobs
Location: Work
Mood: annoyed
I hate new jobs. Can’t stand them. I wish it were possible to start a new job at the “I’ve worked here for over a year” point. I always feel like an idiot when I start a new job. Even when the job is really simple. Every job has it’s own way of doing things, and you always need to ask how to do things. For instance, I worked retail. My first day on the job they asked me to fold some shirts. I asked them how to fold the shirts. They looked at me like I was a moron. I’m not stupid. I know HOW to fold shirts, but I assumed that they had a specific way they wanted me to fold the shirts. They did.
This new job that I’m working is no exception. It is a bit worse actually. Whenever I work I’m by myself. It’s usually pretty boring. However, occasionally there is something I need to do or a question I need to answer, and I don’t know how to do it, what the answer is, or who to ask. I just feel dumb. The worst part is, the residents look at me like I know what I’m doing. Then, when I don’t know what to do they seem to react as though I don’t know anything at all.
It’s not the worst thing in the world, but I’m ready to reach the point where I actually know what I’m doing.
Oh, did I mention that the woman who trained (and continues to train me through notes) barely speaks English? I don’t speak Russian, so it’s all a bit confusing.
Mood: annoyed
I hate new jobs. Can’t stand them. I wish it were possible to start a new job at the “I’ve worked here for over a year” point. I always feel like an idiot when I start a new job. Even when the job is really simple. Every job has it’s own way of doing things, and you always need to ask how to do things. For instance, I worked retail. My first day on the job they asked me to fold some shirts. I asked them how to fold the shirts. They looked at me like I was a moron. I’m not stupid. I know HOW to fold shirts, but I assumed that they had a specific way they wanted me to fold the shirts. They did.
This new job that I’m working is no exception. It is a bit worse actually. Whenever I work I’m by myself. It’s usually pretty boring. However, occasionally there is something I need to do or a question I need to answer, and I don’t know how to do it, what the answer is, or who to ask. I just feel dumb. The worst part is, the residents look at me like I know what I’m doing. Then, when I don’t know what to do they seem to react as though I don’t know anything at all.
It’s not the worst thing in the world, but I’m ready to reach the point where I actually know what I’m doing.
Oh, did I mention that the woman who trained (and continues to train me through notes) barely speaks English? I don’t speak Russian, so it’s all a bit confusing.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Parents Pay Attention
Location: Stark St. Cinemas
Mood: Astounded
I went to see Coraline with my mom today. I’m not sure how I felt about it. It definitely wasn’t bad, but that doesn’t tell me whether I liked it or not.
As I’m sitting there watching this movie, there is a mom and her three children sitting behind me. One or two of her kids kept saying to her “Mommy I’m scared.” This little boy asked to leave multiple times, and the woman just kept telling him that the film was just a dream. She told her kids to close their eyes for the scary parts, and it would go away.
I imagined watching the movie as a small child. I would have been scared witless too. I feel your pain kids! It wasn’t the scariest movie that I had ever seen, but I can totally understand how kids would be scared. Hell, as a kid I was petrified by Ernest P. Worrell (still am a bit)!
This reminded me of something that bothers me about the human condition. There is a tendency among people to see cartoons (or other things traditionally thought of as for kids) and assume that they are kid-friendly. This bothers me. Just because something is animated does not mean that it is for children! For gods’ sake there is cartoon porn! Every now and then an animated film comes out, and it is entirely intended for adults.
When I worked at the movie theater a movie called Monster House came out. This film was most likely aimed at older kids and tweens. It was a movie about a haunted house. People took their small children to this movie and then left in large numbers. They would ask for their money back, and often they would be upset with us for not warning them. Open your eyes people! The previews give you all you need to know.
Why are parents not paying attention to these things. If you watch the preview for Coraline you know instantly that this is a dark film. The preview made me a little uneasy. I leaned over to my friend and said “that looks kind of scary.” I did not think “I wonder if I can drag a small child along to torture when I go see it.”
What especially astounds me is not that parents aren’t paying attention to the clues, however that is bothersome, but that they become upset with the people who support the movie. No one is really trying to trick you people. If you opened your eyes you’d notice that all of the warnings were there. In the Coraline preview the “other mother” is a woman with buttons for eyes, and she morphs into a scary witch person, she yells at Coraline, and threatens to take her eyes out! Monster house is about a HAUNTED house that tries to eat the children in the neighborhood!
The movie that sticks out in my mind most of all is Bad Santa. Yeah, people took their kids to this R rated movie. As employees at the theater we were told to warn everyone who bought tickets. We actually had to make sure people buying tickets were aware of the rating. You’d be surprised how many people stood there with their kids, heard us say “you know this movie is rated R for explicit language, violence, and sexual content,” and buy tickets anyway. Then they left early and demanded their money back like it was our fault! No one tried to trick you into stealing the innocence of your children. The movie is called BAD Santa, it is rated R, it starred Billy Bob Thorton, and the minimum wage teenage box office attendant recommended AGAINST taking your kids. How much more obvious could it get? I’m sorry, but it’s your own damn fault your stupid.
Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that people need to pay more attention. ESPECIALLY if you have kids. When I have kids, I’m not going to shelter them at all, but I’m not going to ignore all warnings and blindly walk my kids into an x-rated film just because it’s a cartoon with teddy bears and talking kittens either.
2 comments
Monica Heistand wrote at 6:45pm March 8th, 2009
Mindy Murray wrote at 1:01pm March 9th, 2009
Mood: Astounded
I went to see Coraline with my mom today. I’m not sure how I felt about it. It definitely wasn’t bad, but that doesn’t tell me whether I liked it or not.
As I’m sitting there watching this movie, there is a mom and her three children sitting behind me. One or two of her kids kept saying to her “Mommy I’m scared.” This little boy asked to leave multiple times, and the woman just kept telling him that the film was just a dream. She told her kids to close their eyes for the scary parts, and it would go away.
I imagined watching the movie as a small child. I would have been scared witless too. I feel your pain kids! It wasn’t the scariest movie that I had ever seen, but I can totally understand how kids would be scared. Hell, as a kid I was petrified by Ernest P. Worrell (still am a bit)!
This reminded me of something that bothers me about the human condition. There is a tendency among people to see cartoons (or other things traditionally thought of as for kids) and assume that they are kid-friendly. This bothers me. Just because something is animated does not mean that it is for children! For gods’ sake there is cartoon porn! Every now and then an animated film comes out, and it is entirely intended for adults.
When I worked at the movie theater a movie called Monster House came out. This film was most likely aimed at older kids and tweens. It was a movie about a haunted house. People took their small children to this movie and then left in large numbers. They would ask for their money back, and often they would be upset with us for not warning them. Open your eyes people! The previews give you all you need to know.
Why are parents not paying attention to these things. If you watch the preview for Coraline you know instantly that this is a dark film. The preview made me a little uneasy. I leaned over to my friend and said “that looks kind of scary.” I did not think “I wonder if I can drag a small child along to torture when I go see it.”
What especially astounds me is not that parents aren’t paying attention to the clues, however that is bothersome, but that they become upset with the people who support the movie. No one is really trying to trick you people. If you opened your eyes you’d notice that all of the warnings were there. In the Coraline preview the “other mother” is a woman with buttons for eyes, and she morphs into a scary witch person, she yells at Coraline, and threatens to take her eyes out! Monster house is about a HAUNTED house that tries to eat the children in the neighborhood!
The movie that sticks out in my mind most of all is Bad Santa. Yeah, people took their kids to this R rated movie. As employees at the theater we were told to warn everyone who bought tickets. We actually had to make sure people buying tickets were aware of the rating. You’d be surprised how many people stood there with their kids, heard us say “you know this movie is rated R for explicit language, violence, and sexual content,” and buy tickets anyway. Then they left early and demanded their money back like it was our fault! No one tried to trick you into stealing the innocence of your children. The movie is called BAD Santa, it is rated R, it starred Billy Bob Thorton, and the minimum wage teenage box office attendant recommended AGAINST taking your kids. How much more obvious could it get? I’m sorry, but it’s your own damn fault your stupid.
Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that people need to pay more attention. ESPECIALLY if you have kids. When I have kids, I’m not going to shelter them at all, but I’m not going to ignore all warnings and blindly walk my kids into an x-rated film just because it’s a cartoon with teddy bears and talking kittens either.
2 comments
Monica Heistand wrote at 6:45pm March 8th, 2009
I love your blogs mindy...so very true!!
Mindy Murray wrote at 1:01pm March 9th, 2009
Aww, Mon. I love that you love my blogs. Makes me feel relevant. ;)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Pre-Dream Curiousity
Location: Home
Mood: contemplative
I dated this guy once. It was sometime ago. I was in a pretty dark place when he came into my life. I knew him before that, but I had never really seen him. I was really down and he came along and sort of saved me from myself. I didn’t see it happening at first, but then there he was.
I guess it started out slowly. He would compliment me. Not vague niceties, but genuine praise that expressed utter amazement with my existence. Then I got sick. Really sick. And there he was again. He brought me things, and not the usual soup or well wishes. He brought specific things I had mentioned in passing. He listened to me. He talked to me. He even did things for me. Then, there was the way he looked at me. It was like I was the reason he got up in the morning, and I just didn’t know it yet.
Eventually, I started to realize what was right in front of me. I started to appreciate him, and then something amazing happened. I saw him. He wasn’t just some guy. He was everything.
In the beginning everything was good. It was that perfect combination of actually being with someone and wishing you could be with them more. I couldn’t wait to see him or talk to him. When I saw him, my stomach did somersaults. I could hardly believe it each time we kissed. The best part: He was just as infatuated with me. We were excited to be with one another. When we met eyes it was as though I was the dessert he’d been craving all his life.
We were together for quite a while, but (as good things often do) it went bad. Eventually, it ended horribly. It wasn’t quick, and it definitely wasn’t painless. It was this monumental event that left me bitter, angry, and cracked.
I don’t think of this relationship often, but when I do it’s always of the brutal end. It’s invariably with a degree of disappointment that I fell for him, and a level of hatred that it ever occurred at all. However, tonight the strangest thing happened. Exhausted from my day, I laid down to sleep and my mind wandered to this relationship.
Then I smiled.
I remembered the beginning of this relationship, and how deeply we felt for one another. I remembered the moments before we were together when he had told me I was beautiful. I thought of how ecstatic I was to see him each day. I remembered the goofy games we used to play, and how he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered. I remembered the gifts he gave me, and all the little things we’d do for one another.
It’s weird how easily we forget things that were once so great. It’s also strange when they pop back into our mind.
Mood: contemplative
I dated this guy once. It was sometime ago. I was in a pretty dark place when he came into my life. I knew him before that, but I had never really seen him. I was really down and he came along and sort of saved me from myself. I didn’t see it happening at first, but then there he was.
I guess it started out slowly. He would compliment me. Not vague niceties, but genuine praise that expressed utter amazement with my existence. Then I got sick. Really sick. And there he was again. He brought me things, and not the usual soup or well wishes. He brought specific things I had mentioned in passing. He listened to me. He talked to me. He even did things for me. Then, there was the way he looked at me. It was like I was the reason he got up in the morning, and I just didn’t know it yet.
Eventually, I started to realize what was right in front of me. I started to appreciate him, and then something amazing happened. I saw him. He wasn’t just some guy. He was everything.
In the beginning everything was good. It was that perfect combination of actually being with someone and wishing you could be with them more. I couldn’t wait to see him or talk to him. When I saw him, my stomach did somersaults. I could hardly believe it each time we kissed. The best part: He was just as infatuated with me. We were excited to be with one another. When we met eyes it was as though I was the dessert he’d been craving all his life.
We were together for quite a while, but (as good things often do) it went bad. Eventually, it ended horribly. It wasn’t quick, and it definitely wasn’t painless. It was this monumental event that left me bitter, angry, and cracked.
I don’t think of this relationship often, but when I do it’s always of the brutal end. It’s invariably with a degree of disappointment that I fell for him, and a level of hatred that it ever occurred at all. However, tonight the strangest thing happened. Exhausted from my day, I laid down to sleep and my mind wandered to this relationship.
Then I smiled.
I remembered the beginning of this relationship, and how deeply we felt for one another. I remembered the moments before we were together when he had told me I was beautiful. I thought of how ecstatic I was to see him each day. I remembered the goofy games we used to play, and how he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered. I remembered the gifts he gave me, and all the little things we’d do for one another.
It’s weird how easily we forget things that were once so great. It’s also strange when they pop back into our mind.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Um, Wow
Location: Salem
Mood: aggravated
I had an interview today. It’s not the first interview since my last installment, but it’s the first worth saying anything about. (The last went okay).
This is for a professional therapeutic company that shall remain nameless. I applied for some open positions that I found online. I got VERY LITTLE information about the position and the company. However, my application for a Residential Counselor got pushed through, and I was asked to come in and meet with the associate director (a woman named Tami). I set up the interview a week ahead of time. Then I attempted to learn what I could about the organization in order to prepare myself.
I couldn’t find anything.
So, at this point I’m thinking this interview could go several different ways. It could be a residential counselor for nutbars, or it could be really interesting and not at all scary. It could be a glorified ass-wiper, or it could be just what I need. No idea.
I wake up this morning, and I have a freaking rash on my face! It was around my mouth (and no I didn’t do anything pervy to get it), so it’s right where you can’t hide it and the interviewer is going to be looking. So, that’s a great start to my day. I’m already apprehensive about what this job even is, and now I’ve got rash-mouth. I’m thinking I’m going to be SUPER impressive (in case you can’t tell, I’m being SARCASTIC).
The interview is in Salem, so I left two hours early. This gives me about 45 minutes to get lost and find the place. On the way down I thought I was getting pulled over two different times. Luckily I only THOUGHT I was getting pulled over, and the cops drove right past me. I’ve never been pulled over though, and this causes my heart rate to sky rocket. So, I’m nervous and freaking out.
When I arrive in Salem, Gloria PeuterSchmidt decides to go all weirdo on me and tell me to turn left when she clearly meant right...twice. When I finally got myself in the right direction (I’m not even sure how I figured out that she was tricking me), I drove right past a gas station and she says “You have arrived.”....
...
...
At a gas station? Um, Gloria, no way in hell did I just drive down to Salem to interview at a freaking Arco! Of course, this is an area of town that is one-way streets only. So, I wind up driving around the block about 1500 times. Finally I decide to call the place. So I pull over and look at my notes to get the phone number.
Yeah, I didn’t write a number down (let this be a lesson to anyone who ever finds themselves in my position). It’s now 12:55 and my interview is at 1pm. I know I have some email correspondences with a woman who works here. So I call home to have someone check my email for me.
No answer.
I call my mom’s cell phone.
No answer.
Dad, no answer. Sean’s out delivering food for the YMCA or something.
I tried calling my sister, but I thought this was a long shot because she never answers her phone. One ring later Amber answers her phone! She’s sitting at her computer! So she logs into my G-mail, finds out I’m at the right place, and gets the number for me. THANK GOD FOR AMBER!!!
Turns out Gloria kept telling me the building was on the right hand side of the road when it was actually on the left. Needless to say, Gloria and I are not exactly speaking right now.
I got there at 5 after 1, and had a nice little chat with the receptionist. Then two guys come to get me. I guess I’m not interviewing with this Tami woman. I’m interviewing with two guys, and one of them is VERY attractive.
So, here I am at this interview for a job I know nothing about, sitting across from a full on hotty, and I’ve got a freaking rash on my face!
They tell me about the job. I guess it involves helping sexually aggressive males. Yikes! Now I’m thoroughly frightened, but I listen hoping it gets better. It does, but not much. The pay is VERY little considering what they ask of you. If I’m offered it, I’ll probably have to turn it down because the pay doesn’t justify relocating to Salem.
One of these days I’ll find the perfect job.
Mood: aggravated
I had an interview today. It’s not the first interview since my last installment, but it’s the first worth saying anything about. (The last went okay).
This is for a professional therapeutic company that shall remain nameless. I applied for some open positions that I found online. I got VERY LITTLE information about the position and the company. However, my application for a Residential Counselor got pushed through, and I was asked to come in and meet with the associate director (a woman named Tami). I set up the interview a week ahead of time. Then I attempted to learn what I could about the organization in order to prepare myself.
I couldn’t find anything.
So, at this point I’m thinking this interview could go several different ways. It could be a residential counselor for nutbars, or it could be really interesting and not at all scary. It could be a glorified ass-wiper, or it could be just what I need. No idea.
I wake up this morning, and I have a freaking rash on my face! It was around my mouth (and no I didn’t do anything pervy to get it), so it’s right where you can’t hide it and the interviewer is going to be looking. So, that’s a great start to my day. I’m already apprehensive about what this job even is, and now I’ve got rash-mouth. I’m thinking I’m going to be SUPER impressive (in case you can’t tell, I’m being SARCASTIC).
The interview is in Salem, so I left two hours early. This gives me about 45 minutes to get lost and find the place. On the way down I thought I was getting pulled over two different times. Luckily I only THOUGHT I was getting pulled over, and the cops drove right past me. I’ve never been pulled over though, and this causes my heart rate to sky rocket. So, I’m nervous and freaking out.
When I arrive in Salem, Gloria PeuterSchmidt decides to go all weirdo on me and tell me to turn left when she clearly meant right...twice. When I finally got myself in the right direction (I’m not even sure how I figured out that she was tricking me), I drove right past a gas station and she says “You have arrived.”....
...
...
At a gas station? Um, Gloria, no way in hell did I just drive down to Salem to interview at a freaking Arco! Of course, this is an area of town that is one-way streets only. So, I wind up driving around the block about 1500 times. Finally I decide to call the place. So I pull over and look at my notes to get the phone number.
Yeah, I didn’t write a number down (let this be a lesson to anyone who ever finds themselves in my position). It’s now 12:55 and my interview is at 1pm. I know I have some email correspondences with a woman who works here. So I call home to have someone check my email for me.
No answer.
I call my mom’s cell phone.
No answer.
Dad, no answer. Sean’s out delivering food for the YMCA or something.
I tried calling my sister, but I thought this was a long shot because she never answers her phone. One ring later Amber answers her phone! She’s sitting at her computer! So she logs into my G-mail, finds out I’m at the right place, and gets the number for me. THANK GOD FOR AMBER!!!
Turns out Gloria kept telling me the building was on the right hand side of the road when it was actually on the left. Needless to say, Gloria and I are not exactly speaking right now.
I got there at 5 after 1, and had a nice little chat with the receptionist. Then two guys come to get me. I guess I’m not interviewing with this Tami woman. I’m interviewing with two guys, and one of them is VERY attractive.
So, here I am at this interview for a job I know nothing about, sitting across from a full on hotty, and I’ve got a freaking rash on my face!
They tell me about the job. I guess it involves helping sexually aggressive males. Yikes! Now I’m thoroughly frightened, but I listen hoping it gets better. It does, but not much. The pay is VERY little considering what they ask of you. If I’m offered it, I’ll probably have to turn it down because the pay doesn’t justify relocating to Salem.
One of these days I’ll find the perfect job.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
People are Weird
Mood: tired
Why don’t people just say what’s on their minds? I think it’s fascinating. We always beat around the bush. We try to have people guess what our meaning is, and we often avoid directly telling people what we actually think.
I’m not immune to this. I just wonder why we are like this? Wouldn’t it just be easier if everyone was clear about what they want/need/felt? I think it would. Sure, occasionally there would be hurt feelings. However, I am not convinced that there would be more hurt feelings than there are now.
When we meet people we’re attracted to, wouldn’t it just make things easier if we could just tell them. “Hi, I’m Mindy, and you are hot. I think I may have a crush on you.” This SOUNDS great. I will probably never be able to do it. It sounds so great though. I would love to meet someone and have him say that to me. Even if I didn’t feel the same way about that person. It would just be nice to know upfront.
This doesn’t just apply to romantic situations. It would be so nice if you could just tell someone that they were bugging you. I mean, I know you CAN do this, but it’s rude. It would be so nice to just be able to say to someone “you’re getting on my nerves right now, and I’d rather you just left me alone.” At least that way you know where you stand with people.
People are weird creatures. Why do we operate contrary to common sense? I think it is so compelling
Why don’t people just say what’s on their minds? I think it’s fascinating. We always beat around the bush. We try to have people guess what our meaning is, and we often avoid directly telling people what we actually think.
I’m not immune to this. I just wonder why we are like this? Wouldn’t it just be easier if everyone was clear about what they want/need/felt? I think it would. Sure, occasionally there would be hurt feelings. However, I am not convinced that there would be more hurt feelings than there are now.
When we meet people we’re attracted to, wouldn’t it just make things easier if we could just tell them. “Hi, I’m Mindy, and you are hot. I think I may have a crush on you.” This SOUNDS great. I will probably never be able to do it. It sounds so great though. I would love to meet someone and have him say that to me. Even if I didn’t feel the same way about that person. It would just be nice to know upfront.
This doesn’t just apply to romantic situations. It would be so nice if you could just tell someone that they were bugging you. I mean, I know you CAN do this, but it’s rude. It would be so nice to just be able to say to someone “you’re getting on my nerves right now, and I’d rather you just left me alone.” At least that way you know where you stand with people.
People are weird creatures. Why do we operate contrary to common sense? I think it is so compelling
Thursday, January 22, 2009
How We Learn
Location: home
Mood: calm
I’m reading this book (My Ishmael), and the part I’ve just read through brought up some interesting arguments. Very pertinent to my life.
The way we teach people is kind of screwed up. We put people through 12-14 years of classes that teach them all kinds of theories and philosophies that may be helpful when they graduate and enter the job market. When they do exactly that, they have absolutely no experience. They have all kinds of theories and ideas floating around in their heads, but they have no practical knowledge or experience.
For thousands and thousands of years people have learned by seeing. We learn how to talk by being around others who talk. We hear their words, and figure out for ourselves how to use them. The same thing goes for walking, reading, and interacting with one another. So, how come at some point we decide to ship kids off to facilities where they sit in a desk and stare at someone who merely explains things to them?
I’m not saying that I think people shouldn’t go to school, but I am saying that schools should reevaluate their practices. You can’t merely explain complicated procedures to people and expect them to be able to do them. You can’t just tell someone how to solve for x, and expect them to be able to do it under any and all circumstances.
I think that the way we teach math proves my point. Math teachers do more than just explain the theory of algebra. They show you. They do a countless number of problems on the white-erase board, or on an overhead projector. They give their students problems to try on their own. Then, when their students still need help, math teachers do the problems with them thus helping them to see how they are done.
With all this evidence around that shows us how we learn, why do we continue to teach the way we do? Whether they know it or not, people don’t believe it works either. Certain jobs require you to have certain degrees. Many require a bachelor’s degree, but when you finally receive that degree you have no more knowledge about how to perform that job. People clearly don’t believe this process works. This is proved by the fact that the people who do the hiring normally pass over the fully qualified applicants in favor of those who have experience.
Whether we are aware of it or not, we prefer to employ people who have seen and done the work.
Why does the system work the way it does? Education should involve practical experience. Also, I think that employers should provide training for new employees that includes SHOWING them what to do. Sometimes these things are done, but most of the time they aren’t. What’s the point in continuing a process that doesn’t work?
Mood: calm
I’m reading this book (My Ishmael), and the part I’ve just read through brought up some interesting arguments. Very pertinent to my life.
The way we teach people is kind of screwed up. We put people through 12-14 years of classes that teach them all kinds of theories and philosophies that may be helpful when they graduate and enter the job market. When they do exactly that, they have absolutely no experience. They have all kinds of theories and ideas floating around in their heads, but they have no practical knowledge or experience.
For thousands and thousands of years people have learned by seeing. We learn how to talk by being around others who talk. We hear their words, and figure out for ourselves how to use them. The same thing goes for walking, reading, and interacting with one another. So, how come at some point we decide to ship kids off to facilities where they sit in a desk and stare at someone who merely explains things to them?
I’m not saying that I think people shouldn’t go to school, but I am saying that schools should reevaluate their practices. You can’t merely explain complicated procedures to people and expect them to be able to do them. You can’t just tell someone how to solve for x, and expect them to be able to do it under any and all circumstances.
I think that the way we teach math proves my point. Math teachers do more than just explain the theory of algebra. They show you. They do a countless number of problems on the white-erase board, or on an overhead projector. They give their students problems to try on their own. Then, when their students still need help, math teachers do the problems with them thus helping them to see how they are done.
With all this evidence around that shows us how we learn, why do we continue to teach the way we do? Whether they know it or not, people don’t believe it works either. Certain jobs require you to have certain degrees. Many require a bachelor’s degree, but when you finally receive that degree you have no more knowledge about how to perform that job. People clearly don’t believe this process works. This is proved by the fact that the people who do the hiring normally pass over the fully qualified applicants in favor of those who have experience.
Whether we are aware of it or not, we prefer to employ people who have seen and done the work.
Why does the system work the way it does? Education should involve practical experience. Also, I think that employers should provide training for new employees that includes SHOWING them what to do. Sometimes these things are done, but most of the time they aren’t. What’s the point in continuing a process that doesn’t work?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Mysterious Interview
I had an interview today. If I’m being totally
honest, it was a job I didn’t want in the first place. It was working
for a facility that cares for adults with developmental disabilities,
and I was worried that I was going to be a professional ass-wiper.
Harsh, but true. Did you know that people who do that usually make
minimum wage?!
Anyhow, the interview is at 10am. It’s 15 minutes (maximum) from my house. I leave as half hour early.
Armed with my new best friend Gloria PeuterSchmidt, I can find anywhere in the world! Or so I thought.
The place doesn’t exist. I spoke with someone on the phone, they gave me this address. I looked it up before I left. Same address. I drove to the location of this address, and no facility exists there.
There was a business complex where this place should have been. So, I entered the complex, and drove around under the assumption that one of the tenants was this facility...nope. Nothing.
I called them. No answer.
Now I’m curious.
Anyhow, the interview is at 10am. It’s 15 minutes (maximum) from my house. I leave as half hour early.
Armed with my new best friend Gloria PeuterSchmidt, I can find anywhere in the world! Or so I thought.
The place doesn’t exist. I spoke with someone on the phone, they gave me this address. I looked it up before I left. Same address. I drove to the location of this address, and no facility exists there.
There was a business complex where this place should have been. So, I entered the complex, and drove around under the assumption that one of the tenants was this facility...nope. Nothing.
I called them. No answer.
Now I’m curious.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
My New Best Friend
One of my Christmas presents was a best friend. I have named her Gloria PeuterSchmidt. She is this woman who speaks in a very calming manner. Her entire reason for existence is to sit on my dash and guide me to my destinations.
Gloria knows everything about roads, maps, and getting places. She’s amazing! I just give her a few details, and, almost instantly, she can tell me how to get to where I need to be. If there’s a road closure, or I miss a turn it’s not a problem. Gloria just quickly figures out how to get myself back on track. She’s not married to any particular route. Glo goes with the flow.
The other day I met a friend for dinner, and it required me to cross the Morrison bridge. Apparently I am directionally impaired, because I somehow managed to cross and recross the Morrison bridge three times before I found a place to park. Most people would begin to get frustrated with that. Not Gloria. Each time she just calmly reassessed the area and told me how to get back to The Rock Bottom Brewery (my destination). Her directions were never unreasonable either.
Like most friends, my relationship with Gloria has its drawbacks. When Gloria has something to do she demands my attention. She speaks at a constant volume. She can change her volume, but not depending on the circumstances. Also, when Gloria wants it, she demands your attention. It doesn’t matter to her if I’m on the phone or not, she is going to say what she’s got to say.
The other day I was at the Starbucks drive-through. This confused Gloria because it wasn’t on any road she was aware of (it was in a parking lot). While I was making my order Gloria says rather loudly “Whenever possible, make a legal U-turn.” This confused the person taking my order, but Gloria didn’t care.
As you can see, we have some things we need to work through. Gloria is not without quirks. She thinks that Richey is pronounced “Jew-gee,” and there’s no reasoning with her when she’s made up her mind. However, I’m pretty sure that Gloria PeuterSchmidt is my new best friend.
I love you GPS.
Gloria knows everything about roads, maps, and getting places. She’s amazing! I just give her a few details, and, almost instantly, she can tell me how to get to where I need to be. If there’s a road closure, or I miss a turn it’s not a problem. Gloria just quickly figures out how to get myself back on track. She’s not married to any particular route. Glo goes with the flow.
The other day I met a friend for dinner, and it required me to cross the Morrison bridge. Apparently I am directionally impaired, because I somehow managed to cross and recross the Morrison bridge three times before I found a place to park. Most people would begin to get frustrated with that. Not Gloria. Each time she just calmly reassessed the area and told me how to get back to The Rock Bottom Brewery (my destination). Her directions were never unreasonable either.
Like most friends, my relationship with Gloria has its drawbacks. When Gloria has something to do she demands my attention. She speaks at a constant volume. She can change her volume, but not depending on the circumstances. Also, when Gloria wants it, she demands your attention. It doesn’t matter to her if I’m on the phone or not, she is going to say what she’s got to say.
The other day I was at the Starbucks drive-through. This confused Gloria because it wasn’t on any road she was aware of (it was in a parking lot). While I was making my order Gloria says rather loudly “Whenever possible, make a legal U-turn.” This confused the person taking my order, but Gloria didn’t care.
As you can see, we have some things we need to work through. Gloria is not without quirks. She thinks that Richey is pronounced “Jew-gee,” and there’s no reasoning with her when she’s made up her mind. However, I’m pretty sure that Gloria PeuterSchmidt is my new best friend.
I love you GPS.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Stupidly in Love with an Evil Wizard
Seattle’s Best is currently my favorite coffee shop. The only one around my house is at Borders, and I got a Borders gift card for Christmas. In light of these facts, I decided to go to Borders today.
If you are a fan of my blog, (and let’s face it: who isn’t?) then you know that I am in love with a mysterious man who works at Borders. He’s only mysterious because I’m retarded and can’t talk to him. This confuses me. Why can’t I talk to this guy? It makes no sense! So, I started thinking about it today and I came to the most logical conclusion. HE’S A WIZARD!
Duh! It’s so obvious!
When I went into Borders I went straight back to the coffee shop to get what I ALWAYS get, a white chocolate mocha. It’s fabulous, and if you haven’t tried SB’s white chocolate mocha then you might as well just hit yourself over the head with a shovel. The last few times I’ve been there I’ve inexplicably started a conversation with the people in line with me. Not today though.
Today, my borders boyfriend got in line behind me. As soon as I notice he’s behind me I freeze. I can’t think of anything to say. What s wrong with me?
To make matters worse, when the barista asked me what I wanted...I drew a blank! I get the same god damned thing every time I go there!
This is why I have decided he’s a wizard. He has clearly cast some spell on me that makes me a dumb mute! And he’s got to be evil because it’s just mean. I mean: What the hell?!! What did I ever do to him? I mean besides love him.
I have settled with this explanation because it makes the most sense. The other option is that I am actually in love with this guy I don’t know. Stupidly in love. I don’t even know him! Why do I act this way? That is why the only logical explanation is that he is an evil wizard who has cast a spell on me that makes me STUPIDLY in love with him.
Good Lord! I have a problem.
If you are a fan of my blog, (and let’s face it: who isn’t?) then you know that I am in love with a mysterious man who works at Borders. He’s only mysterious because I’m retarded and can’t talk to him. This confuses me. Why can’t I talk to this guy? It makes no sense! So, I started thinking about it today and I came to the most logical conclusion. HE’S A WIZARD!
Duh! It’s so obvious!
When I went into Borders I went straight back to the coffee shop to get what I ALWAYS get, a white chocolate mocha. It’s fabulous, and if you haven’t tried SB’s white chocolate mocha then you might as well just hit yourself over the head with a shovel. The last few times I’ve been there I’ve inexplicably started a conversation with the people in line with me. Not today though.
Today, my borders boyfriend got in line behind me. As soon as I notice he’s behind me I freeze. I can’t think of anything to say. What s wrong with me?
To make matters worse, when the barista asked me what I wanted...I drew a blank! I get the same god damned thing every time I go there!
This is why I have decided he’s a wizard. He has clearly cast some spell on me that makes me a dumb mute! And he’s got to be evil because it’s just mean. I mean: What the hell?!! What did I ever do to him? I mean besides love him.
I have settled with this explanation because it makes the most sense. The other option is that I am actually in love with this guy I don’t know. Stupidly in love. I don’t even know him! Why do I act this way? That is why the only logical explanation is that he is an evil wizard who has cast a spell on me that makes me STUPIDLY in love with him.
Good Lord! I have a problem.
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