Sunday Salon: Please Stop Laughing at Me...

So, whilst browsing the books in Target today I picked up Jodee Blanco's Please Stop Laughing at Me...

I have to say, I really felt like crying for most of this book. I can't figure out if its because I identify with the story so much, or I felt bad for the extremes the author faced as a teen.

I really won't say much about this book, because I don't want to give away any of the story.

I do want to say, however, that it gave me hope that in 20 years from now...my life will be different. I hope that in 20 years I too, can let go.

So ya want a revelation?

Today I had a revelation. Nay, an epiphany if you will. Something that has been bothering me for a long time has suddenly come into new light. Here goes.

For a long time I've felt like I don't belong anywhere. I've spent my entire life trying to fit in somewhere, anywhere. I've tried my hand at being several different people. (Not like, "Hey, I'm Petunia today", but like...personalities). Granted, all these personalities have some relevance to something I actually enjoy. I've tried to be the artistic girl, the writer girl, the singer, the crafter. These are all things I very much enjoy. However, I'm not super into any one thing. And that's when it hit me. I've been trying to be somebody else for so long, that I don't know who I am.

That sounds odd. I mean, I know who I am, I know what I like, I'm just not sure who I AM yet. I don't know what defines me. I don't have a particular passion. Except my passion for trying to be something. Oddly enough, whatever I'm trying to be...I never feel like I'm "enough". I'm not crafty enough, not goth enough, not artsy enough.

I still need to find that part of myself. Right now I'm doing the few things I know how to do: work and go to school. Hopefully when I transfer I'll have a little more freedom to discover who I am. It's a frightening idea that I'm almost a complete stranger to myself.

Oh, on a side note, I'm working on my first actual novel. On my "to do before I die" list is write a novel and get said novel published. I don't want to make a career out of it or anything. By no means is writing my entire life. However, to see my name and something I've written in print has always been a big dream for me. I know I have my whole life to do this, but why put off something you can do today? Why not start now? I mean hell, this thing could take me years to finish.

Another update, I'm working on actually having my own blog site. I'm trying to come up with a good url, and figure out how I'm going to code the page. If anybody knows a site that would give me my own url, but have an existing blog template, that would be awesome. (I know about freewebs, but that's a freewebs url, not my own. I don't know if they have a pay option that would give my my own url. I'm checking into that momentarily).

Oh, and Merry Christmas to all you Christians out there. Happy Hanukka (or however that's spelled) to those of the Jewish faith. And of course, Happy Yuletide to my fellow pagans. And Happy everything else to those I'm missing.

Peace.

I love him

I haven't really blogged about life in a while, so why not now? I had a good Yule, the pubmoot at Fritz's was especially fun. That's where I met the psychic...yeah.

Work: I've been picking up a TON of hours lately, except I had to call in sick yesterday. I felt like poo. I'm getting on pretty good with my co-workers. I really enjoy working with everyone.

School: Is done for the semester! I got an A in English, which is pretty amazing. Math wasn't so good. D+. Which pretty much pulls down my GPA, and downs the chance of me transferring right away in the spring. Well...I wasn't really wanting to transfer RIGHT AWAY anyways, I was betting on waiting till fall. I got a C+ in Intro to Psychology (worst professor EVER). And a B in Speech, which should be a B with honors but...I don't know. Due to being sick on Friday I didn't make it down to the office to have my transcripts sent anyways. Well. I'll go after the holidays. I'm figuring they won't even be open until like, Thursday.

Love life: Eric has been really sweet to me lately. I think its because I told him about the psychic prediction that we wouldn't last very much longer. He's out practicing with his band right now. I'm so proud of him. I'll get to see his first gig on the 26th of January. Sad to admit, but that's part of the reason I want to wait until fall to transfer to Iowa. I want to see his first show. I'm ignoring the fact that he's half ignoring me today, because I know he's working hard. I have a surprise for him: I'm learning the guitar tabs for our song. Yeah...I have a guitar. No...I don't know how to play it. I've been thinking of selling it for a violin. I can't play the damned thing because my hands are too big to curl around the neck properly. I figure I HAVE to be able to do that with a violin. Maybe I'll have Tiffany teach me. Haha.

Psychic

Today I had an energy reading done by a psychic that came in very high regard.

First she told me that while I was going into Anthropology because I found it interesting, I would find it terribly boring in any future career. She said the best bet would be to persue another passion: music. Namely, the production of music. She said that I would flourish in Chicago.

She said that in two years a little boy spirit would want to be born through me. She said that I would be very tempted to answer the call, but that I should wait. She said that because I'm such a dedicated person, I would either have a family or a career. She also said that if I went to Chicago, the call would be lessened because the father would not be around as much.

I asked if Eric and I would work. She said No. Flat out. I asked how long. She just looked at me and said "you're already having problems with him." I agreed. She said that he grabs me, on the arm, not to cause harm, but nonetheless, he grabs me. This is true. He does this. She said that I had to be careful, because he would end up hitting me, not in anger, but still. She mentioned that he's "quite a stinker" and has quite the temper. She said three months from now I would want to break up. She said do it.

Apparently, I'm to meet the "love of my life" in two years as well. He has dark, dark, dark hair, and black eyes. He's tall, about 6'3". I'll meet him through a friend, and there's no getting around the meeting. I'll meet him in a place that I often frequent, I'm thinking my favorite Starbucks.

She also mentioned my spirit guide. Male, from the 16th Century. His name is Aiden. I immediately knew who she was talking about. I told her that I'd often felt, like a muse near me, when I write. She said that was him. I asked her if the light touches I felt sometimes were him. She said yes, and that sometimes, it was also my guardian angel. She said my angel touches me in times when I am very lonely.

My reaction: WOW. She said some things that were dead-on. My want to persue music. The fact that Eric grabs me sometimes...Although I'm so scared that what she said about him is true. That we'll split in a few months. I can't stand the thought of it. The only thing that will tell for sure is time.

The Interpreter of Maladies (Sunday Salon)

I'm still reading the second book I mentioned in my last Sunday Salon post. I'm finding I have no time lately for reading, which really upsets me. But anyways...back to the book.

I'm looking at every story as a mirror into the way humans are. There's an adulterer, a sad housewife that misses India, an unhappy wife...

Even though every character is either in India, or from India, I can relate to the stories. Some of them are cultural experiances, such as Mrs. Sen missing her home in India...but I feel I can relate to even this, as I think we all feel out of place at one time or another.

I'm looking forward to searching for another book by the same author. The way the stories are written...its as if you are feeling every emotion along with the characters. Wonderful.

This must be immortalized

This just...blew my mind

Sunday Salon Post

Here we go, first Sunday Salon blog.

I just finished reading Running With Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs. I thought it was completely hilarious, and somehow tragic at the same time. It's even more interesting to know its a memoir, not a novel. Unlike other memoirs, you feel like you're actually there, and its one exciting ride. From playing with an old electroshock machine to discovering sexuality, Augusten has one interesting life. I didn't think much of the ending however, as I dislike abrupt ends. I'm looking forward to picking up Dry, another memoir by the same author.

I'm also about halfway through The Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. It's a collection of short stories by the author, all of them uniquely tragic in their own way. All the stories reflect in some way the human condition, as I like to call it. Basically, they reveal all the character flaws of your everyday person, from the people in the apartment who blame the stair-sweeper for a stolen basin, to the man unhappy with his arranged marriage. I recommend this one, because it isn't something you feel you have to rush through to discover the end. Just take it one story at a time, a few pages a day.

I'm hoping to pick up something new soon, like I said yesterday this gives me an excuse to go to the bookstore. Maybe I'll find something nice at the Half Price bookstore. :)

Off the Beaten Path

I've noticed lately that all my blog posts seem to gravitate into two categories. A: my musings on today's political environment, and B: my angst-ridden teenage thoughts. I'm not completely sure how to veer off of this course, but I think I need to. Nobody's really interested in what I think of my mom and her sweatpants.

I just signed up for the Sunday Salon. Every Sunday I'll be blogging about something I've read. This should be amazingly fun. And incentive to go to the bookstore, I can just see it now. "But Eric, we HAVE to go, or I won't have anything to blog about on Sunday!". Somehow I get the feeling it won't fly, but a girl can try, right? You can click here for more information.

Extreme

I recently got back from visiting Sarah in Iowa. I told her that since graduating I'd "gotten worse" in terms of my hippiness. And while I don't know that I can really catagorize this as something a "hippie" would behave like, I have gotten much more cynical about the politics of this nation. I fully intend to vote. However, no, I'm not certain as to whom I'm voting for, even in the primaries. I need to keep watching the issues. (Although, being a cynic, I'm fully aware that half the things these people say may very well be lies). While listening to one of my favorite folk artists, Ani Difranco, I discovered this song, called Self Evident:

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of Noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its Indian summer breeze
on the day that America
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and I'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every TV
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in Palestine
Afghanistan
Iraq

El Salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. Rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
1 George W. Bush is not president
2 America is not a true democracy
3 the media is not fooling me
cuz I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
and I'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
in my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the Ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
must be more than poems
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?

These lyrics really resonate with me. They were inspired by the WTC distaster of 9/11. I'm not going to tell you I think it was a hoax. I'm not sure where I stand on that. But I've been there. It's haunting as hell, not simply because many lives were lost there, because I think the innocence of this nation was offically demolished there. As soon as those towers fell, Bush declared war on, not Afghanistan, but Iraq. Hm.... The media lies to us on a daily basis (this is not just one girl's opinion, do a little homework and you'll see what I mean). Our government is slowly stripping away the rights we fought so hard to win back in the 1770's.

For instance: the Bush Administration passed a bill in 2006 that allows the government to declare ANY PERSON (you, me, your aunt mary, your uncle lou, the little old lady down the street) an "enemy combatant", allows the gov't to hold this person in prison INDEFINATELY, without rights to things such as a speedy trial. These people may never come to trial. Just rot away in prison.

As Benjamin Franklin said:
"Any society that will give up a little liberty to gain a little security deserves neither and will lose both"

Let's not destroy ourselves here. Stand up. Show the people in charge that THEY work for US. Not the other way around. Let's help to push this nation back onto greatness. Vote in the coming election. Write to your congressman. Do whatever it takes to stand up for what you believe in, be it abortion rights, health care, or a country without a death penalty. STAND UP. FIGHT. We can't do this sitting on our asses watching CNN and getting real angry. That won't do anyone any good. America was created "by the people, for the people". What happened to the people?

Sobbing mess

Today I found out my cousin got into UWM. As I read her bulletin, I recall my own college admissions experience. It was the second night of the auditions for Our Town, and I had been talking with Harrison about how I hadn't heard anything from UWM yet, regarding my admission. Lo and behold, that very night, as I get into the car to go home...she hands me an envelope. The small envelope.

"Unfortunately we cannot offer you admission to the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee at this time"

And just like that, I'm a bawling, sobbing mess.

the seldom admitted truth: UWM was the only school I applied for. It was the only school I really expected to go to. (And I know I'm at fault here - another little admitted fact: I graduated with a 1.9 GPA.) So there I sat in the car in the parking lot of Pick n Save while my mom went in to get cigarettes (and a bag of candy for me, to try to make me feel better), sobbing my eyes out. By the time I got home, I was alright. That night, I filled out an application to MATC, and informed Central College that I was dropping my application. (My reasoning behind that was if I couldn't manage to get accepted to the easiest university in WI to get into, why would I expect to gain entrance to a private college in Iowa?)

And then I had to congratulate everyone else on their acceptance to college. I saw all of my friends go off and live the life I so desperately wanted to be a part of. The logical solution: transfer.

Now I'm feeling like its too late - I can't get back that first experience ever again. I'm one step behind everyone I know. At MATC, I think maybe ONE of my classmates is my age. The rest are mid-twenties and above. This means nearly zero oppertunity for new friends. I mean yeah, some guys in my English class are nice...but they're all older...and we have nothing in common. And they've made it quite clear I'm not part of their group.

Tonight I read a bulliten on myspace: "I got into UWM!"

And within thirty seconds I'm a mess of tears and snot. I didn't think it would still hurt. So far, I'm the only grandchild that didn't get into a four year university. And to be honest, I'm thinking of dropping out after this semester. How can I continue to go to the place I go now? Every time I walk into the building, I want to die. How can I expect to have a good experience if I transfer? I'll be a full year behind all my peers in terms of adjustment.


Thank god I didn't reach for the Xacto knife tonight. I thought about it. Long and hard. But I didn't. I suppose that says something for my willpower... but mostly I was just afraid of Eric's reaction to seeing marks on my body. That's sad...I didn't even care that I might fall back into the old habit...only that my boyfriend might be angry with me.

Heavy thoughts

I'm listening to "Dear Mr. President" by Pink. And I have to tell you its very thought provoking. Here are the lyrics:

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you

I want his answers. How can it be that an entire people can sit in their homes, and just...let these things happen. I'm not talking about just Bush (although if I were voting age at the time of the election...) What about Nixon? Ever wonder why America doesn't have a government-provided health care system, like, say Canada, England, France, or really ANY other developed nation? Thank Nixon.

What about the notion that every man is created equal? I'm pretty sure if you were created gay, you're still equal. What about the separation of church and state? Sorry, but when "In God We Trust" is on the money...we don't have that separation (I'm not even going to get into the pledge of allegiance).

I could tell you I'm not proud to be an American. But that wouldn't come off right. Perhaps, I am merely glad to be an American, to have the rights that I have. But I'm not necessarily "proud". I'm not "proud" that Europe thinks we're a joke. I'm not "proud" that the American Embassies are so heavily guarded, because people don't want us anywhere.

I think that we have the power to make things right. I think that we could become a great nation again. However, I think that the problem lies with people that are too stuck in their own ideas to be able to change.

I've got so much to say on this...I could type for years.

Think about it.

A moment of confusion

Lately I've been defining myself as a pretty reserved person. I'm a loner. That's all fine and dandy, untill I realized all of my friends moved away. All I have left is Eric, and much as I love him...its not enough.

I've been trying though. I hang out with a few guys in my English class. Matt, Matt, Hector, and Jake. They're pretty cool, funny and all. But I get the distinct feeling I'm not part of the group, nor will I be invited to join the ranks of the cool. I get it though, we have nothing in common. I mean they're all in their mid-upper 20s, going back to college. And I'm 18, fresh out of high school. That's fine, I guess.

I really like the people I work with too. Tony, Dean, Connie, everyone really. And the same thing happens. Although I do understand I'm the "new girl".

I'm just not used to being in situations like this. I mean, yeah, I've been the new girl in elementary school...but that's so far away from now. It might as well be another life. Everything about me has changed since then. I didn't expect to be so desperate for day to day social interactions. I can't discredit my friendship with Tom and Matt, but I rarely see them.

I'm not 100% sure what to do about this. Should I just throw myself into it and force my way in? Or do I wait to get the much coveted invite? I'm keeping in mind my past history with throwing myself into things. I believe that's what happened in high school, and I'd really rather not relive that. It can't be THAT hard...can it?

Sometimes I suspect I'm over thinking this.

Yay insomnia

Well, It's roughly 11:15 pm and I need to be awake at 7 am tomorrow morning. Sleep? ha. ha. ha.

There's been lots of things going on in my life that are blogworthy, I just haven't...y'know...blogged them. Mostly because I'm lazy. Partly because I have to be in the blogging kind of mood. So let's begin.

Starbucks: Is amazing. I love my job, love the people. The only thing I really don't love is POS (Point of sale), or register, because it has thousands of little buttons that I can't seem to figure out. But I'm sure that with enough practice I'll master it. But I'm praying they don't decide to assign me a till tomorrow afternoon, when its super busy. Today I tried some of the black coffees that we have. I was surprised that I didn't hate it. They weren't actually that bad. (Oh, and if you have a favorite bean, and you really want it, I get a free pound per week. Since I don't drink much of anything that's not espresso, I'll give it to you. Just let me know.)

Other than that...in general life, things have been going ho-hum. I'm having a lot of issues with my body image right now, upon doing a little research and discovering I'm at least 20lbs overweight. i should weigh somewhere around 100-110. Last time I checked, I was 138. Yeah, its average for my AGE, but not for my HEIGHT. Remember guys, I'm the size of your average third grader. In addition, I needed new jeans. Let me tell you, it is hell for me to find jeans. First of all, I'm short, and they don't make jeans for short people (unless you're a size 2). And I'm super picky about my jeans.

(This is just an aside, something that gave me a lot of perspective. Recently I found my favorite pair of jeans from sophomore year. They were a size 3. I can't believe I thought I was fat back then. Because now, I would kill to get that body back. And I'm now a firm believer in Phy. Ed. In schools. As soon as I hit senior year, my activity level went down to 0. And I went from oh... a size 5 or 6 in junior year...to a size 10 or 12 now. But Old Navy sometimes cuts their jeans really large... so the ones I just bought were a size 6. A little tight, but hey, motivation, right?)

Anyways, my goal is to lose 20 lbs by New Years. I realize this may be impossible, but hey, why not shoot high? I'm watching what I eat and how much of it I consume, and I'm trying to motivate myself to exersise. I have a lot of respitory problems, so running is almost out of the question. And added to my knee problems...yeah. But I've resolved to start doing situps. I used to be able to do at least 100 without feeling a burn, during my size 3 days. I want to get back to that. And get rid of this ugly little bulge under my chin. That needs to go like, yesterday.

Wow. I realized I just spent an entire blog about my body image, and how I want to be tiny. I want to clarify something: I have terrible self esteem, and do not care about accepting myself for who I am. I feel like a skinny girl stuck inside a padded suit. This does not mean, however, that I disagree with the idea of self-acceptance. I just know that this is not the way I'm supposed to be shaped. Not only that, I'm not at a healthy weight, and I don't have a healthy activity level. The whole self esteem rant...that's way too personal to blog about, and I don't feel like crying tonight.

Well...maybe I'll go do 10 situps now...then catch some z's before bed. Hell, they might actually make me tired.

Peace.

Lost

I think lately I've been so absorbed in the idea of what I want to be, I've lost a sense of who I am at this moment.

I want to be the smart, intellectual girl that's well versed in the art of conversation. I love the feeling that I'm one of the "smart people". So I molded myself to become one of "them". I started changing my attitudes on life, just to fit a stereotype. I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with this. I mean, I do want to be something bigger than I am right now, but at the same time I don't want to lose a sense of where I come from.

I think I stopped inviting people over to my house in 10th grade, because I realized that all my friends were better off than my family was. They all lived in houses their parents owned, and these houses were kept very clean. My house is dark, dingy, smells like cigarettes, and isn't very tidy. No matter how much I picked up after my family, the yellow film of smoke remained on the walls, and the smell still hung in the air. I have friends that medically cannot stay in my house for more than 15 minutes without having an athsma attack. (which brings up a whole new rant about how my parents smoke and are practically killing my brother - and I have adult onset athsma caused by second hand smoke. I'm thrilled with them.).

I never, never, never wanted my parents to be anywhere near me at school functions. I know, its typical for a kid to be embarassed by her parents. But this feeling is magnified when your stepdad has two teeth, and hasn't showered in a while, and makes all these stupid comments in strange voices because he thinks he's being "clever". Or when your mother is wearing old ratty sweatpants that stop at her ankles, a tshirt about three sizes too big, and she hasn't brushed her hair in what appears to be a week. I very nearly told my mother not to attend my high school graduation.

It's not that I don't love them, its the stares I get. Especially from all of the well-to-do kids and their PTA involved mothers that are dignified and wearing makeup with nice hair and clothes that come from this decade. I always secretly wanted one of them to adopt me.

I'm not sure what I'm striving to anymore. I have this feeling of discontent that I can't seem to shake. I feel like I've gotten lost in the department store of life, and there's no smiling clerk to page my mother. Not that I'd be caught dead in public with my mother unless she goes through a five point inspection.

On secrets

Everybody's got secrets, right? I don't believe it when my boyfriend says he's told me everything. Because everybody has at least one thing they don't tell ANYBODY.

I have a lot more secrets than that.

And lately I feel like they're all grabbing at me, trying to swallow me whole. But I don't know how to deal with them. I just keep shoving them back into the closet, like misbehaving skeletons.

Sure, I'm learning to deal with some things that happened in the past. They're still tender subjects, I've only ever shared them with one person. I'm afraid that if I tell people what happened to me back then, nobody would believe me. I turned out alright, right? But I'm realizing more and more that what happened then had a HUGE impact on how I behave now.

I didn't know it was wrong back then. I didn't realize the full extent of what happened untill I was in high school. I know that it was out of my control. Because, back then, I didn't know any better. I thought that was SUPPOSED to happen. And I'm still coming to terms with it.

For the first time ever, I'm at a time in life where I'm 100% uncertain as to where I'll be in a year from now. It used to be easy. I'd be in the next grade up. But now...I have no idea. I don't even know where I'm going to be living a year from now. I don't know how I'm going to afford school, I don't know if I'll be able to afford the next school I go to....

I don't want to stay at MATC. If I could, I'd drop out right now. I hate it so much. It makes me feel like an idiot for being there, because I always thought I was a notch above that. Its getting more and more difficult to admit to myself that I'm not above any of them. I'm one of them. And I hate myself for it, on a day to day basis. I wish that somehow I could go back and fix my mistakes. Because I feel like I'm inching back to that old precipice I used to dangle myself over. I'm afraid I'm going to fall this time.

A new chapter

Today was my official last day at Marshalls. I don't start at Starbucks untill a week from Monday (October 1st), so I've got a bit of transition time. Its kind of surreal, thinking that I'm never going to have to work there again. Its also very exhilirating. Because I hated it. Tremendously.

Okay, it's not a difficult job. It wasn't the actual "work" that bugged me so much. It was the people. And not only the people that worked there. The people that shop there. Ye gods, I hate Marshall's shoppers. First of all, is it REALLY so hard to bend over and pick up what you just dropped on the floor? And is it REALLY nescisary to follow behind me and mess up everything that I'd just straightened up? Secondly, I've never seen a discount retail store that had a bathroom attendant, that carried clothes and handed out numbers. (Oh hello, a number one or two? Three? Enjoy!) And usually, bathrooms have toilets and sinks in them. Okay, I'll give an older person the benifet of the doubt that they honestly thought that (both!) the large signs outside of the fitting room stating "FITTING ROOMS" really means bathrooms. Okay, so you walk past the attendant, and fail to notice that she's not doing anything bathroom-related. She's handling clothes. Okay, so you manage to get past her watchful eye without any clothing items to try on. Wouldn't one think that lack of toilet/urinal/sink fixtures would alert you to the fact that this is not, in fact, the public restrooms? No. People pee in there. They poo in there. They change their *ahem* "female sanitary needs" in there. And we get to clean it up. Seriously people. If its not a toilet, don't pee on it.

Another notice to the general consumer public: Cashiers REALLY REALLY hate it when you try to "help" them with their job. We dislike when you try to ring up, bag, and wrap your own items. If you feel the need to do all of this yourself, request a self-checkout lane. Its actually pretty insulting. You aren't helping us by taking off all the hangers and then just handing them to us in a heinous pile of tangly mess. You're wasting our time, and pissing us off. We also hate it when you slide a card, and tell us it needs to be a debit purchase, then stare at us. That one's all on you buddy, put your pin in. And when we ask "credit or debit" the proper answer is not "it doesn't matter". It is either "Credit" or "Debit". We are also aware that we do not have a button specifically for credit. However, every single store I've been to with one of those self-slide card readers is equipped with a "cancel" or "clear" button. This is usually the way to get to credit. Also, if you have just a plain old credit card, you do not need to inform me that it is a credit card. It's a Visa. Of course its a credit card.

Just because I'm a teenager (or an adult of the teen years, in my case) does not constitute that I know absolutely nothing about my job. I work there. I know what I'm doing. You don't work there. You don't know what you're talking about. When we say a certain item is a certain price, we're not lying to you. It also really irritates us when we spend forever checking for a price for you, bring it back saying "oh, its three dollars" and you respond "oh that's too much." What did you want? Free? 50 cents? Seriously, this book cost at least $21, publisher's price. (But that's okay, because I can then buy the item.) As much as we want to please you, we will not, under any circumstances, rip ourselves off to make you happy. I don't care how much you yell, or even if the manager caves and gives you what you want, we still know you're a theif. (And this is a little side rant, but we don't watch you "because you're black". We watch you because you're a known theif whos stolen thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. We watch everybody, black, white, hispanic, asian. You name it, we watch them.)

Children are not to be turned loose in stores. I don't know if you realize this, but in most cases, they are not well behaved. They steal, they destroy merchandise (rendering it unsellable, which may as well be stealing) and they destroy our property. Sometimes they assault the employees (it's happened to me). I can't speak for everyone, but I delight in yelling at your children. (Except when I scold and all I get is a confused look, because they don't understand English...but that's a whole blog in itself.)

I especially love questions similar to "Are these the only belts you have, or are there more somewhere else in the store?". We make it a point to keep everything together and well-organized. We think it is especially hilarious when you ask us if we have more somewhere else. Yes, we have a secret department in the back, with more belts/shoes/purses/perfumes. Let me take you to it. Yes, that is all we have. The shoe department holds all of our shoes. We do not have a special little shoe niche somewhere in the store. Trust me. We think you're stupid every time you ask.

Do not argue with us on store policy. We know what we can and cannot do. No, I cannot give you change once I've already shut my drawer. If you had asked maybe 30 seconds earlier, it would nt have been a problem. I however do not enjoy being harassed in both English and Spanish. It will not get you what you want. (And yes, I know what "puta" and "bendeja" mean. I did have spanish-speaking friends. They did think it was fun to teach me swears in another language. Besides, I speak French, and sorry, but the romance languages are very similar, and if you understand enough of one, you understand the basics of all.)

Wow, this has turned into a super long rant. I apologize. I hope working at Starbucks isn't this fantastically agitating. (Although Cedes told me they work her brother like a slave...something I'm not looking forward to at all.) I'm anxious to begin my new chapter in life, because sitting here doing nothing bothers me. I think this may be the first Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) that I don't have to worry about getting up early the next day. I don't have any plans tomorrow untill 3, when I got to the Mabon festival with Tom. Well, I should clean my room (Eric won't give me The Sims 2 untill its done...I feel like I'm 7) and there's this tiny issue of an English essay. Said essay is due Monday. I'm supposed to be doing it now, but y'know. Blogging puts me in the mood to write. Not to mention the 3 hours of math homework I have ahead of me...I better get a move on.

Thought-provoking

In my psychology lecture today we learned about forgiveness. It turns out, that if you hold grudges, your stress levels are higher, and you have a greater chance of becoming ill. Hm. I definately hold grudges. One in particular. Anyways, back to psych. My professor was telling us about two men who had been imprisoned by the VC during the Vietnam War. They were asked if they still held resentment against the VC. One man replied "Hell yes I do, those sons of bitches. I think about them every fucking day." The other said "That's too bad, because then they've still got you in prison."

I didn't take much stock in this at the time. Then I got home today and decided to look up someone I went to high school with on facebook. This person made my senior year a living hell, and you can't begin to fathom how much I hate her. So I looked up her account and sat seething for a moment, then searched her page in hopes something terrible had happened to her (of course it didn't. I saw her at pick n save a couple days ago. Anyways, she's a chronic lier, I wouldn't believe anything tragic happened if she said it did). And I realized, I'm holding onto this stupid high school rivalry.

I think part of my personality that I'm having a lot of struggles with is the part that's afraid to stand up for anything. Yeah, I've got opinions, strong ones at that. But 9 times out of 10 I'm afraid to voice them. I'm not entirely sure why. I suppose I'm a shy person (hell, it freaks me out when I have to order pizza) and that could be attributed to this struggle. It's happened to me many, many times. I'll be confronted and immediately back down. I guess I'm a doormat. I'll even apologize for calling people on things. For instance, I called a friend of mine on being a bitch and talking about me behind my back. Then I apologized for ever getting mad about it, even though I was still seething on the inside. Even with people I don't know, I'm a pushover.

Maybe that's the reason I was teased and bullied and demeaned so horrendously in school. I wonder why it took me 13 years to realize that I let it all happen. I sat back and cried while everyone had their fun. But why? I have no clue.

But anyways, back to the story. I think I realized today that I have to forgive her for every nasty comment she made about me, every dirty look, every rude behavior. I have to let it go. Because even now it stresses me out. I hate when people like that can get the upper hand. So, I've got to take the high road and just let it go. Forgive and forget, right? The problem is, I'm not 100% sure how to do that. Should I just mentally say "whatever" and let that be that? Should I message her and tell her that even though she was knowingly horrible to me, I forgive her and I don't think she's a terrible person? I don't even know what I did to make her hate me so. Well, I do. I was obnoxious. People hated me for that, I suppose. Which is why I'm quiet and reserved now. I rarely, if ever, voice an opinion in class anymore, because I'm afraid all the students will turn against me.

Why does life have to be so damned complicated? Why can't we all just...get along? Sheesh.

I'm average

Yes, my friends. Its official. I jumped on the bandwagon of hotornot.com last night in a fit of low self-esteem. I was hoping that I'd be rated super high and experiance an ego stroke close to orgasm. Unfortunately, I'm a 6.5. I did have one vote of 10. So I suppose that's good. Apparently I'm hotter than 61% of women on that site. I suppose that's good too. But its confirmed the sneaking suspicion that I've had lately: I'm pretty, but not HOT.

The problem is, I'm not content with that.

Meat? No. Burrito? No.

Its been a while since I've written anything here. To be honest, I've been busy, and I haven't really felt like doing it. I've had a few life-changes lately.

First of all, I started at MATC. I absolutely, positively hate it. Its like high school v. 2.0. Seriously. There are lockers in the hall even. To top it off, MATC offers no extracurriculars except the newspaper, and you have to attend MATC downtown to write for them. There's nothing, AT ALL. I hate my math class, because the teacher treats us like five year olds. My English class is okay. My teacher is pretty hilarious. During his lecture on Wednesday he stopped mid-sentance to ask "Is there a dog stuck in the ceiling or something?" (there was a dog barking outside). It was pretty damn good. And the class itself should prove challenging. Let's move to my Tuesday-Thursday class. Speech isn't my favorite subject, not by a long shot. But the people in the class seem pretty intelligent. My professor, Dr. Ruth (Ruth Cimperman, not the sex lady) seems like a nice person. I love my psychology class though. Dr. Magner is really cool. He's pretty laid back, and none of the course material is new to me. The only qualm I have is his lectures. But that's a different rant.

Life change #2: I got a new job! I've got one week left at shitty Marshall's before I start at...STARBUCKS! I'm really excited. I have a cool job title now: Barista. Except for some reason, Eric thinks I'm a burrito. (He knows, hes just trying to be funny.). I'm so glad I can finally leave my shithole job and start fresh. Although I'm working with one of my coworker's brothers. I went to school with him in freshman year, except I really don't remember him. Apparently, he hates me. We'll see how that goes. Because, according to said coworker, he's like that to EVERYBODY.

And finally, I'm a vegetarian. Or at least, I'm desperately trying to be. My mom doesn't seem to understand that "I don't eat meat" really doesn't mean "I want a hamburger". She's making it really difficult. I understand that she's worried about my protien levels and all, but sheesh. For instance, we decided that tonight tacos would be a good supper, because I could make mine with no meat. But she refused to let me buy the vegetarian refried beans, because they would "taste different" (Mind you, she's never tried them). So I had to eat the ones with lard in them. Disgusting. I'm trying to be understanding of my family (they WANT their meat, dammit) but really, I think its gross. I'm nearly at wits end and I've only been doing this for like two weeks. I'm *this* close to telling my mom to only make meals for three, and that I'll buy and cook my own food. Ugh.

Its been crazy.

I got a new laptop though. That's a plus. :)

Ta-da

It's been a while since my last post. I guess not much has happened of significance for me to post. I finally did fill out an application for Barnes and Noble, references and everything. But nobody's willing to take me there so I can turn it in. Eric's car broke down in Oconomowoc, so that's not an option. He hadn't even had it a week and the battery dies. Well, we'll see what happens with that.
I think I'm finally getting through some of my sexual anxieties. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm afraid to break the rules. At least I can watch porn now. Before it was still "naughty" to me. But, now I realize that hey, I'm an adult. It's okay now. However, I still can't quite have sex in a car, like Eric would like. We're working on that.
Let's see...I start school on the 27th. I'm excited and nervous at the same time. On the one hand, I'm ecstatic to meet new people and learn new things. But on the other hand I'm not sure what to expect. I'm used to the High School way. You know, bell rings, you go to your next class, for 7 hours, there's a half hour lunch period. I mean, how early should I get there? Will the doors be locked? I suppose if I'm early I could just grab a bite in the cafeteria or something. Tom is going to go with me before classes start so I can A: get my books (which I'm having to pay for out of pocket because I procrastinated with financial aid), and B: orient myself as to where my classes actually ARE. I'm so freaked out. But then, I've never really done well in unfamiliar situations.
Well, that's enough updating for one night, we'll see about tomorrow.

This just in

A boy was killed in the kitchen of The Melting Pot, downtown. Apparently, he was dunked in a bucket filled with ice, repeatedly. Arrested were his 19 year old sister and a 39 year old coworker. He was nine years old. I really have to stop watching the news. Because as much as I'd love to think it, the same fucked up shit is going on in countries all over the world. Sometimes, I really hate my species. you don't see tigers killing each other "just because". There's always a reason, like being sickly or territory or something. That might not seem viable, but that's the way the species HAS to survive. Humans on the other hand, kill for reasons so petty, so stupid, it's mindboggling. For instance "I thought mom loved him more than me, so I killed him." or "Grandma didn't want me, 13, dating a 23 year old, so I beat her to death and stole all her money, then went on a killing rampage" Hate to say it doll, but you're messed up.

Musings of a madwoman

I recently saw the film SiCKO. I'll admit, it left me pretty damned pissed off. Then again, I had to admit, there's two sides to every story. And while I'm upset at America's "sick" health care system, I'll admit that nobody has it perfect. That being said, I'm moving to England. Or Canada. Perhaps France.
I'm also resuming my hunt for a job. I'm tired of being treated as if I'm not human. I'm not a machine people. I can't do backup fitting room, backup register, run rollracks, do totes, AND reshop from the fittingroom. I can do maybe two, but not all.
On a completely random note, a Go Phone commercial just came on, where the parents argue with the kids, but they're saying nice thins. It amuses me greatly.
Back to the story. I can't just keep on being everybod's bitch. So, I'm looking for a new job again. Part time though.
Also, I got my bill for tuition. Which isn't too bad, under $2,000. But, that's $1,600 I don't have. And my FAFSA hasn't kicked in yet, so I'm going to have to go down to the office and sign a paper of some sort, and prove that I have a valid FAFSA in proccess. I'll have to have Tom take me down there, because I'm afraid to do it myself.
I cannot believe what I just heard on the news. "An unspeakable sexual assault on a child 10 MONTHS old in surgery." IN SURGERY. TEN MONTHS. Dear god. I hate this society.

Feels like a monday

And boy do I have things to blog about. I worked from 9:30 am to 5 pm today because Dave asked me to pick up a coworkers hours, so she could watch her grandchildren. That's dandy. I need the extra money anyways, because I'm saving up for a laptop. I get to work all excited to be working on the sales floor, when lo and behold, I'm in the fitting room. That's not so bad, but I just hate it. Then Kayla finds out she's backup register. (Backstory: Kayla is terrified of being on register, because she gets flustered very easily, is afriad of the coordinator Pat, and somehow ends up off on her drawer all the time). So Kayla calls Bill, telling him that Dave told her she'd need to be retrained. Bill says "Okay. Megan can do it." So I'm in the fitting room (and the attendant can't leave unless there's backup) and backup register. Okay. The plan was that if I got called up, Kayla would come cover for me. Fine. Then this lady comes out, says she needs a sweater in a different size. Problem: she's wearing clothes she hasn't payed for yet. The rule is, nobody can leave the fitting room area in our clothes. But did she listen, when I tried to stop her twice? No, infact, she was extremely rude about it, and yelled at me. I can't stand people like that. Its infantile, really. "Well, my clothes are in there and I'm not getting dressed!" wow.

I ended up on register for most of the day. Then I get home, to find my expected cell phone bill. The trouble? My bill is supposed to be around $90, for a shared plan and unlimited texts. Fine. But this bill says I owe $219. Which is way off. This is the SECOND time they've screwed up and added stuff I shouldn't be paying for. Like unlimited SMS messaging (I dont even know what that IS). Ugh.

To make it worse, I balanced my checkbook and I've only got $100 to my name, at least, untill I get paid tomorrow. But still. I'm tired, my feet hurt, and I'm screwing up my mom's credit (the phone is in her name, because Eric and I don't have credit yet). I'm not a happy kittymoose.

My confessions

Sometimes confessing can be quite cathartic. So here are my confessions:

1) I'm terrified of dead things. Mostly because I'm terrified of zombies. You never know. It COULD happen.

2) I'm terrified of anything with more than 4 legs. Any sort of insect scares me. Especially centipedes and spiders.

3) I secretly wish I was Indian. You know, bindis, saris, kameez. I wish I came from some exotic land.

Good fences

Frost once wrote "Good fences make good neighbors". I'm going to extend this: "Good soundproof windows make good neighbors". I live in a city. And in this city, the houses are all built reeaally close together. In fact, the only view from my bedroom window is my neighbor's kitchen. In the past, this was never a problem. The people that lived next door were nice people, not loud, not hermits. The new people, however, aren't so gracious.

First of all, the woman living there has two young boys. Her boyfriend also lives there. She's going through a divorce. Now, she's never told me that, but I know because I can hear all the phone calls she makes from her kitchen, as if she's standing in my bedroom. Also, almost every day, I am woken to the sound of :
"MOM! MOOOOOOOOOM JESS IS ON THE TABLE MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM"
"GOD DAMMIT GET OFF THE FUCKING TABLE. COME HERE SO I CAN SMACK YOU"
Speaking of, I'm now sitting in my livingroom, all windows pointing out to the street, and I can hear the child screaming. As if, in fact, he's in my livingroom.

Now, if it isn't screaming children (and I can understand, children are children, but COME ON) it's loud, bad music. Loud music doesn't bother me. After all, I'm 18. I listen to loud music all the time. But generally, it isn't at 8 am on a weekday. Or any day for that matter. This is the fourth or fifth time I've been woken up or kept awake by this woman's music. And it isn't even GOOD music.

We can sometimes also hear her having sex. She's quite the screamer.

It was definately a full moon

Last night I went to the first concert of my adult life. Styx/Foreigner/Def Leppard. Styx was good. Foreigner wasnt. But, during the interim before Def Leppard, there was a large, rolling fight. The way the ampitheater is set up, everything rises. Being a poor hippie myself, we got lawn tickets, which is the highest point, just a hill with grass on it. Somewhere at the top of said hill, one man slugged another, and they all came tumbling down. One girl was screaming "NO NO NO". The other girl looked as if she was going to pull one man off the other. Instead, she got a few slugs in.

Now, in about ten seconds, we have one girl injured in the tumble, about twenty summerfest personell, and two very sweaty men. My dad went up to a guy holding onto one of the fighter's arms, and wanted to tell him what happened. However, the man was all riled up and started scraming at my dad: "BACK UP SIR JUST BACK OFF. BACK OFF!" so a lady came up. She kept telling him to back off as well, and that she'd get his statement. He went off on her, because of the way she was treating him. In his words "god, take a doctor phil pill". My dad isn't very clever. My boyfriend ended up getting punched in the back during the ordeal, because he couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

Then Def Leppard plays. What an awesome show. And, may I add, Joe Elliot is very, VERY attractive.

Time to leave. We wait around for the large hoarde of people to start filing out, and when the crowd thins a bit, we leave. We get out to the parking lot, and find that its going to take us a VERY long time to get out. As we're inching forwards, my boyfriend remarks that some car is moving a lot. I remark maybe the occupants are having sex. Some woman goes up to the window and screams "GET A FUCKING ROOM" (so much screaming). We inch forwards. Yes, friends, they are having sex in a car. I feel ill at the sight of this, and my boyfriend is a tiny bit creeped out.

You see, I feel ill upon seeing sex or finding myself in any sort of sexual situation. Apparently, it is deeply rooted in my childhood, and I will soon end up seeing a therapist.

It was definately a full moon.

Oh but I made a pair of really awesome bellbottoms. I'll post pictures as soon as I can find my camera.

Job search, Day 1

I've decided I want to work at Barnes and Noble. Why? I'm a nut about books. The only problem is...going and applying. It's hot out. I don't drive. So, here I am, looking for an online application that I *know* will never be seen by any sort of hiring staff, and then I'll be back at square one and have to go out and fill out an application. But its supposed to be just as hot tomorrow. Sigh.

Look out world!

Kittymoose has a blog! Hopefully I won't forget about it and let it slip into the far recesses of Cyberspace.