Randomness from an Unconcentrated Mess

It's been a while since I posted. I had a draft, but it has since disappeared and though I remember how it started, I don't remember exactly what it said or where it was going. I am back in school now and in need of more practical procrastination techniques than simply mail and facebook. Strangely enough, however, all my homework for tonight is already done.

It is the second week of classes and feels like Christmas break should have begun already. This being said, you should also know that I have spent most of this week in bed sick, so really, I have only participated in one full week of classes.

My facebook statuses have ranged in the last week from slightly funny--"once upon a time there was a place called college and no one liked it and it was over priced and they charged you for everything and people were pretentious, but then one day...oh wait...nope...hasn't changed. :-)"

to seemingly funny but with a strong whiff of truth--"finishing college is the art of procrastinating your withdrawn slip a few days longer than your homework."

all the way to nostalgic--"Why are we so quick to forget the bad and romanticize the good? Maybe it's because we need to believe that the time we spent together actually meant something, that we were there for each other in a time in our lives that defined us all, a time in our lives that we will never forget."

I'm not really sure what this says about my last fourteen days except perhaps that a range of events and emotions have snuck into my life without my permission.

I usually love learning new things and gaining new experiences but coming back to College, seeing as where this College is, rips out any willingness to participate. I have signed up for activities that I love to do. I am in classes that I like (Besides Spanish which is another story entirely). And still, I can't help but feel my brain melting like wax is this little dungeon room of mine. No matter how many things I have to cover the pee colored walls, no matter how bright and cheery and homey I try to make it, I feel like I need to be a recluse every time I walk in.

On another note, a story which I believe everyone should read, for one purpose or another, is called Geek Love, by Katherine Dunn. It is a novel that tells the story of the Binewskis a carnival family that bred its own freak show. Quite interesting, sad, dynamic, overall a good read.

I'm a little bit everywhere tonight--my life has changed pretty drastically since the last time I updated, though those of you who read it pretty much know the real time updates.

I still want to be in California.
I still hate Iowa.

A great story about my school--in my school newspaper--everyone should read it!!!
http://www.thesandb.com/features/wtf-where-the-fk-am-i.html
My favorite quote came from a first year--"I don't know why I thought they were kidding about the cornfields."

I never get sick with normal stuff, I always get these weird viruses that last forever. I don't get sick often, but when I do it knocks me out. I hate being sick and am hoping this bout is 'bout over.

Also, my tan from the summer that I worked so hard for is almost gone. It's a sad day.

I have been in California for about a month and a half now and it has gone by sooo fast! I have a billion pictures and some good memories of events. Some rough memories of events. And some memories that will probably fade soon enough just because they didn't quite make the memorable enough cut off. I have been working at a police station and learned some really interesting things about the place I am staying, some interesting things about law enforcement, and some interesting things about people in general. I am also working at a restaurant where I have learned plenty of things in those same categories. The most interesting things, however, I have probably learned about myself.

1. I do not have to put up with people's bull if I don't want to. I have done it for a long time and will probably continue to do it to some extent, but I know now that I am allowed (by myself mostly) to let people know when something they are doing is upsetting me. And when that person continues to do such a thing, I do not need to continue supporting them. All relationships, whether they be friendship or dating type, are two way streets. When one person feels they are giving more than another, sacrificing more than another, putting up with more than another, it won't work.

2. People don't change on purpose, they change over time and can't make themselves be something they are not. I cannot expect anyone to grow up faster than they want to. I guess the world isn't up to me.

3. Working up courage is the most anxiety inducing feeling there is. Though it is a good thing to do, the pre-courageous act times are very stressful.

4. People like to make up stories. The best thing to do is confront them in a non-confrontational way. Don't be a chicken. (see #3)

5. Just because people are family doesn't mean you will be best friends.

6. Having people be impressed with my work ethic just shows me how lazy most of my generation is.

7. At 19-20, it's not about finding the people who will be with you forever, it's about finding the people who will be with you tomorrow, and maybe or maybe not those tomorrows turn into forever.

8. Stars are a very important part of my life.

9. Hoping everything will turn out alright usually helps it to turn out alright.

10. Check water contamination notifications before drinking tap water.

11. Don't give up on people. Just because they didn't fit in to one portion of your life doesn't mean they won't come back later.

Unburied Hatchets

I saw my sixth, seventh and eighth grade science teacher (all the same person) today. He made a comment about me thinking he was mean when I was in his class. The reality is, I didn't think he was mean. I thought his teaching style sucked and our personalities clashed horribly. He taught straight out of the book and rarely came up with anything more exciting. He would have made a good PE teacher in high school, but for a junior high Science teacher, I deemed him inept the first few days of class.
He ended up being my homeroom teacher for all three years I was in the upper unit. It was strange for my fourteen person class to get to high school and not see him. We completely expected a Mr. Feeny style following from year to year.
As an adult looking back at the classes I had with him, I do not regret the way I thought of him, the arrogant jerkface that he was/is. And, as he is now the principal of that same school, I think he is just power hungry and his intelligence level leaves a lot to be desired.
I do not think my 12 year old self could have handled him any better. I did not like him. I did not care if he was "mean," I got over "mean" in elementary. He had no respect for the students and so I had no respect for him. Not much has changed. I am now civil to him when I see him but I secretly laugh at the fact that he can no longer threaten punishment or try to lower my grade out of spite.
This guy did not like me then and he obviously does not like me now.
Well Mr. W. I am still not a big fan of you either.

Shaded (A Story for my Fiction Class)

It was a quiet dream, not like usual. Usually dreams made her jolt up at night and scream at night and kick whatever else was in the bed. The cerulean paint chips clung to the ceiling high above her head, about ten feet. It was the drip drip dripping of the rain, of the tiny droplets of water, that finally put her to sleep. The window bars were tinging with the rain drops. The dropping of the rain into buckets in the hallways. Her lips hurt, they were dry, chapped, sore from licking them over and over and over.
The cerulean paint chips fell with the rain, some fell into the buckets, some fell onto her lips. They stuck to her lips as she tossed and turned and rolled in her sleep. She may have swallowed one. That may have been what was keeping her dreams quiet. She didn’t fight the chips anymore. She couldn’t speak with her mouth full so she couldn’t scream with her mouth full of paint chips.
She was floating slowly down the river, slowly floating with no raft beneath her. No boat supported her, just her scarlet locks and pasty gauze dress floated around her, encompassing her. She saw a boat to her left, some kind of writing was written on the side, it said something. But she couldn’t read it. The petals in her hands became flowers—beautiful golden, emerald, crimson flora, sprouting from nowhere. She had seen these flowers before. Seen them in her room, next to her mirror, her cracked mirror, and she had once held these same flowers in the cerulean room.
He was coming, he was coming to get her out of the river, no longer a quiet dream, the chips cracked in her throat, her gasp cracked in the air, she choked and spattered the chips all around her springless mattress. The river had been so calm, the river had been so refreshing, the river had let her escape, she regained consciousness on the river. He was shaking her, drying her? Shaking her awake. Shoving something else down her throat, more chips, more river matching chips. Pills he called them, her pills. A perfect color.
They matched his pants, the pills, the paint chips, the river. They were the same color. She knew this man, she knew him every night, but she forgot she knew him every day. He told her to forget him so she did, but she didn’t really. He just wasn’t there during the day. She knew to cry now when he came in, when he woke her up, it all started with the chips with the pills. Then something larger, something a bit softer, it hurt more, made her choke more. It wasn’t blue. She wished it was blue, she wished everything attached to this man was blue, just like she was blue by the time the pallid shade dripped, dropped, shot into her throat, washing down the pills, the chips, whatever else had found itself in there.
The sun came up, it was sunny. A shift change, she could hear it right outside her door at the nurses’ station. “Yeah, she thrashes around pretty good every night when she gets her pills, don’t worry about it, she’s just crazy.”
“Sir, are you going to fix that mirror in the room? It could be dangerous to have it in there. She could really hurt herself.”
“Oh, I’ll get around to it. It’s not like she is ever out of bed. She can’t get to it unless she gets the hell up.”
“Sir, the reports say you don’t allow anyone else in her room at night, is that right?”
“Hell no, she’s crazy. I don’t subject my staff to issues like her, even if she can’t talk who wants to be around a nutcase like the thrasher?”
“Well, they’re all crazy, really.”
I’m Not Crazy! She was screaming in her head. Was it making noise, though? Could anyone hear her? Here comes the man with the white pants, maybe he would listen. The room was getting less blurry, surely she could tell this man what was happening. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t right. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? She had been hurt! She had tried to tell them about the horrible man before she came here. She couldn’t find the right words. Here he comes. She would stand up and tell him she wanted to go home. Maybe, at least he could fix her ceiling. He had food, though, oh, she just wanted something to eat. She reached out to take the tray from him. What was happening? He wouldn’t give her the food! He was pinching her nose and breaking her jaw open. More blue, that’s all there was now. Lucidity was gone. Reality was slipping away, out of her grasp. Damn those white pants, too! Damn those blue pills. What was ringing? What God awful phone was ringing in this God awful place? It was screaming! It was screaming at her head like she screamed for help inside it.
She was turning now, turning over in her bed, twisting the sheets into long ropes, twisting them with her feet, twisting them with her arms, twisting them together with her nightgown. Her colorless nightgown was so light when she slept it might not always be there. But it was there now, wringing her legs together, tying them in knots as much as the sheets were in knots, as much as her stomach was in knots. It was so bright.
This might be a dream too, this room was so bright, there were glints of multihued light bouncing around her head. Up and down it was bouncing around her and her eyes tracked the glints and she was dizzy. And now the cerulean paint chips and the cerulean pills and pallid liquid were done sloshing around in her stomach and up they came. She felt them stick in her throat a bit, one more time, as they exited her body.
She lay in her wet bedclothes, now a pale, acidic yellow. She lay on the mattress spitteling digested tablets, gargling absorbed and mushy paint chips in the back of her throat. Choking, she was choking again, footsteps, usually it was the other way around, footsteps, tiptoes, then choking and the fear. The fear of the dripping liquid that came every night from the man in cerulean pants. Oh God, there, here it is, the phallic hardness slipping down her throat soon it would wash everything back down her throat. But she could breathe this time. She could see things this time. It wasn’t blue. It didn’t shove anything besides itself down her throat, and she could breathe!
She should have thrown it all up a long time ago. The tube came out. S l o w l y the tube came out of her throat. She could see this was not the same kind of tube she had been subjected to before. This tube came in the daytime, and this tube saved her, didn’t choke her. Who was on the other side of this? Someone who would help her. Someone who wasn’t here to hurt her. Someone she could trust.
“Help.” It was a quiet gesture but the woman in green heard her. Just the one word, but it got her changed and got her bread.
The sapphire trimmed stars peeked out behind the willows outside her room. She hadn’t had pills since the bright time. And there was a voice. It was down the hall, she could hear the man. The shifts changing again. She was awake this time. Reality was so much different than her dreams. They must be. But then, why did this man sound so familiar to her? The green nurse was talking to the blue man.
“She said a word today, you know”
“Oh?” The man spoke softly and carefully.
“Yeah, won’t be long before she starts telling us what really went wrong with her. Well on her way to recovery she is. That guy ought to be hung for raping her and putting her in this state!”
“Isn’t that delightful,” there was a strain in the man’s voice. Was he her doctor?
She settled down into her clean bedclothes on her old mattress, ready to face whatever dreams may come.
“Well goodnight sir.” The green woman was leaving? She couldn’t just leave now.
“Yes, goodnight Margene.”
Footsteps now. Tiptoeing footsteps. And she was afraid. This is just as she remembered and this was no dream. There were no chips in her mouth, she could keep it closed on her own. There was no dripping to distract her. There were no pills to keep her quiet. Tip tip tip toeing outside. It was the man in blue.
“So Perdita, I hear you speak now. How unfortunate for you and your family.”
“Help!” She screamed this time. She screamed at the top of her lungs. “HELP! Help…” Her request died off as her air supply was suddenly gone. Her hands were being wrapped. Her feet were being twisted together. The cotton of the bedclothes and the cotton of the man’s pants were chaffing against her skin. Her mouth was full again. No pills, no paint chips, but a long, narrow tube. Warmer than the one earlier today. This one cut off her breathing. This tube turned her blue, a cold blue.
She turned her eyes one last time to the broken mirror. Confused, lost, unbreathing, she lay still.
The morning nurse came in to do her rounds and as she walked past the typically silent room there was a drip, drip, dripping. The green woman walked in. The drip, drip, dripping of the ruby liqueur splattered onto the linoleum. The bed sheets tangled from the bars on the window to around her neck. A piece of broken mirror in her wrist. The nervous nurse hurried to tell the off-duty doctor.
“Oh, how unfortunate for her and her family.”
“Yes, sir. But there is mirror in her wrist!”
“Must not have been quick enough for her.”
“But sir, you said just yesterday she didn’t move out of her bed.”
“From one extreme to the other I suppose.”
“I very much doubt that, Sir.”
But now she was floating. Down the river she was floating, arms folded across her chest, under the balconies and under the willows, she floated in her fair, linen gown, previously unnoticed. Previously lost. Her dream was the only reality she needed. The cause of her broken screams no longer weaved its crippling pattern into her eternal tapestry.

How Long?

Another night I can't sleep. Water overflows the floodbanks and streaks my face. At least I washed it and there aren't black mascara marks. What is this? Is it stress? fear? anger? sadness? How did I get here? How long does it take to get back?

Everyone is asking me if I am going abroad next year. No, I'm not. I couldn't get the application in on time. Why not? Oh my dad died. I hate saying that. I am not looking for sympathy when I say it and that's what it sounds like to me. But what's worse? Family issues sounds like something that requires therapists and medicine. Saying I was gone for three weeks out of the semester doesn't make any sense either and it leads right back to the truth. My dad died.

I hate talking about it. I hate not talking about it. I can't watch movies where people die without bawling for the next three hours. When I hear about people dying, I want to bawl for three hours. I don't want to be around anyone that drinks. I don't want to spend my time with people who have addictions. I don't know if it is because it makes me angry that they waste their time, money, efforts, love on things that will never give anything back, or if it reminds me of my dad too much to accept at this point.

I think about him every day. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him or if he can see me. I don't konw if I feel guilty for not talking to him before he died or if I am angry that he put me in the position to have to choose college or talking to him.

I want to know so much about him. There are so many questions I never got to ask him. I miss his laugh. I can hardly remmember it. I want to hear his laugh. I remember his smile--his sober smile. I can hear his voice on recordings, but I want to hear his laugh! He was the funniest guy I have ever met...granted I was partial to my dad's sense of humor, but He could make me laugh at the dumbest things. We had dreams of opening a restaurant one day. Maybe it was just one of those things we talked about, but it meant something to me.

He saved every card I ever gave him. He saved every note I ever wrote him.
I want him back. How long does this last? How long does it take before it quits hurting so much to think about him. How long do I have to wish that I could talk to him before I finally understand that I can't? How many typical twenty-somethings do I have to alienate before I get over my fear of people drinking? How long will it be before I can have fun again? How long will it take me to find out who I am without my dad? It doesn't matter how big or little a role he played in my life, he was still out there, and in many ways still a part of my life. Now he's gone. Now what do I do, and how long will it take me to figure it out?!

People try to tell me there is no heaven. I hope with all my heart mind and soul that there is a heaven. I want my daddy to be there right now. If you don't think there is a heaven, don't tell me. For God's sake I will not debate religion with you. I need to believe what I believe to keep me from breaking down. Don't tell me there's no heaven. I don't care what you believe.

Maybe I need my own twelve step program to figure out just how long it takes to be normal.

What a day

Okay so my intention this weekend was to get my Philosophy paper done on Saturday so I would not stay up all night Sunday doing it for its Monday due date.

You know what they say about good intentions...

So I had room draw today which is extremely stressful if you have never been through such a thing. As I had not until today (lived off campus last year and they don't make you do room draw in such situations). So, you get your "randomly assigned" room draw number like five months in advance so you have plenty of time to freak out about how many people in your year have better room draw numbers than you and what the odds are of getting a single. Then a week in advance they post the floor plans in a scary, psych ward-like hallway and every one's names on a list that is very difficult to read. There are the actual room draw numbers, then there are the numbers of how many people there are, then there are the numbers of what year someone is and it takes the whole week to figure out exactly what this frigin thing means.
So finally it is room draw day and you show up on time in a packed room with the floor plans on the walls and all your planning goes out the windows because all the good rooms are taken. Duh, why should you expect anything else? And on top of this, there are student helpers coming in and checking off rooms that are taken by previous students and this supposedly happens in "real time..." But you still have a decent shot at getting a decent single, so now you just sweat it out for another forty five min until they call your number. Then you go into another room full of sweaty college students still hung over from Saturday night's Underwear Ball, get your sticker, then try to find somewhere to put it on the floor plans in that room. Walk out of the room through the exit door, end up outside, and wonder what the hell just happened and where am I living next year?

So after that stress, I got home and had an email that my professor wanted a paper that was supposed to be due Tuesday...TONIGHT. So I quick write that paper. It's a rough draft so no harm done if it is terrible but still, it was seven pages of stream of consciousness about a murder in a psych ward. (reoccurring theme in my life right now...psych wards???)

Watched Amazing Race and was very critical of everyone.

Couldn't get people to stop talking to me online and on the phone. "Are you watching the Amazing Race?" I WAS DAMN IT BEFORE YOU CALLED AND INTERRUPTED --WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!?! ...aka.. "Yeah, what's up?"

So then I realize that I have not received my Rosetta Stone which I was supposed to have received about three weeks ago. Call the company. They can't find my order. Call my mom. Her card had not been charged. Call the company. Reorder Rosetta Stone. Thank Rahim and get my order number so I can track it this time.

It is now 9:10 pm and I still need to finish my Philosophy paper. Only Six Pages to go....too bad this one can't be stream of consciousness.
Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Summer Top Ten

Top ten things I am looking forward to this summer!!

1. Spending a couple of months in California with my family. Relaxing, working, and reconnecting!

2. No classes!! I am in desperate need of a break that does not leave the threat of imminent return hanging over my head. I am tired of classes, homework, and papers. Check please?

3. Related to number one...getting out of the Midwest... I need a fresh outlook...hopefully two months will be enough :-)

4. Warm weather. No matter where I am I will definitely be enjoying the sunshine. I have missed it dearly.

5. Learning Spanish. Got Rosetta Stone coming in the mail...excited to try this baby out!

6. Getting a tan. I'm tired of fake baking, give me some REAL vitamin D

7. Big Brother. It is just not summer without my favorite television show ever!!!!!

8. My Birthday!!! Okay, so it's not really a big one but I will officially be able to say, "that happened like 20 years ago" and I will have been alive.

9. Learning something new. It never fails, summer is a way better time to learn things about yourself than during the school year.

10. Roadtrip with whoever is brave enough to drive with me to California! Sure it's a long and boring drive, but it's still a roadtrip!!!!!

well it's been a while

I have been super stressed and busy so I have not had time to post and even when I did, I felt I didn't have a long enough story to tell.

I still don't.

Hopefully will update soon.

:-D

It's all about perspective

At the end of last year, I decided I was going to live in an apartment off campus so I set out and found a cute little studio that had low rent and no heating/water bills. Just internet and rent for this little apartment that allowed animals and was easy to take care of.

So over the 10 months I have lived here, a series of things have gone wrong...multiple times. For example:

• No hot water in the mornings because the hot water heater had a leak. It took them four times before they finally plumbed me into a different water heater.
• No electricity because my whole apartment is on one circuit and plugging things in blows the switch
• No heat, even though I was supposed to get a brand new heater and air conditioner last spring about a week after I moved in, I did not get any heat until mid-December when it was already freezing. I had to use heated blankets and space heaters, which of course blew out my circuit.
• Wires that hang out of the ceiling where a new light was supposed to be installed before I moved in.
• A hole in the wall where the new heater/air-conditioner was supposed to come into that I have to cover with a pillow because it is right above my head as I sleep and it is very cold!
• A bathroom door that is a pain to shut and get out of in a hurry.
• A bathroom thresh-hold that pops right out of the floor and stabs my feet.
• A screen door that gets blown open by the wind even though it is latched because it is so cheap and thus gets highly damaged (if that comes out of my deposit, I will raise some hell).
• Blinds that my cat tore down (okay, this one can come out of the deposit) but it has been over three weeks since I asked them to come look at them and replace them.

And other great little amenities like a tiny sink that is smaller than a bread box. A shower head that screams because it is made of plastic. A bathroom cabinet that is rusty. A closet doorknob that does not work well.

Despite all these things, I figured that most of the kinks had to be worked out by now, and was kind of sad to have to be leaving to two and half months. All in all, I have it decorated just the way I like it, it is private, I have my own stove and my own shower, the Internet is always fast because there are not three thousand people on at once, my closet is huge, there are shelves that store my clothes just the way I have always wanted to store my clothes. It really is a great little place, I figured. Impractical to keep, though, since I do not plan on staying in College Town over the summer, but maybe there would be some way I could work it out....

Then I got an email from my property manager. She informed me that they were going to start showing the apartment (two months in advance!!??!!) which means I have to keep it clean for two and a half months. She said I could of course re-sign the lease if I wanted to but the rent would go up $100.00. I quickly went from being sad they were showing it to other people because I kind of wanted to keep it to thinking "Hell no, I'm not paying $100 more a month for this shit hole!!!"

It's really all about Perspective

List of Lists

It has been about...oh, forever since I have posted. Things have been insane with homework and work piling on. I seriously can't wait for vacation! So, in order to make a post that isn't whiny and/or boring, I will post a list. Because I could not think of one list I would like to post, I am going to post a list of lists that I thought of making and the number one of that list.

1. Fears--Falling into a pit of Spiders

2. Bad Habits--Biting my nails

3. Greatest memories--A night with all my friends at my house and some how a food war got started with chocolate and peanut butter. It was everywhere! But it was a blast making the mess! And luckily cleanup was pretty easy because it was mostly all over the people.

4. Types of People I don't like--Untrustworthy Liars

5. Celebrities I don't like--Ashton Kutcher. He came to my school and he was a pompous tool.

6. People I would like to meet--Plato

7. Stupidest Quiz Questions--What is your favorite color? Because really, what does this have to do with anything?

8. Coolest Jobs--Owning and running a successful ranch that you could do archeological digs on too.

9. What I spend money on that I shouldn't--Decorations...But I love things to be PRETTY!!!

10. Thing I want most--To be successful enough to have time to relax and reconnect with my immediate and extended family.

At some point in time I may or may not complete these lists, though if there is one you are particularly interested in or something you think I should make a list of, feel free to tell me!

:-D

"The Session"

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his glistening brow with his monogrammed handkerchief. “I don’t know what has gotten into me, usually this kind of thing is no problem for me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, “it happens more often than you’d think,” her thick southern drawl swirling in the air with the coffee scent that still clung to her red lips. “We could just talk if you’d like, see where that takes us, if you want you could tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Well,” he began his self-pitch, “I was born in Texas but raised in New Jersey by my dad and my step-mom until I was sixteen.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, my real mom was here and there, I guess. I never really got a chance to spend much time with her when I was younger and she was always taking me on trips when I did see her. I guess I don’t really know if they were trips or if she just didn’t really live anywhere. I never wanted to ask, even when I did spend time with her.”
“What happened at sixteen? Why did you not live with your dad and step-mom anymore?”
His smooth fingers glided around his Rolex, back and forth, turning it in circles, “He found my mom again. Before that, when I got to see my mom I was dropped off at some point with a social worker and she would come pick me up and off we would go. This time, my dad stuck around, stabbed her four times in her abdomen. I don’t know why I am telling you all this, being as it is just our first time together.” He finished his sentence brusquely as if she had dragged this information out of him without his knowledge.
“Don’t worry about it, at some point, this kind of stuff made it into my job description.” She chuckled at the idea of a normal meeting with her clients, probably not possible. “So what happened to you then?”
“Well,” he settled back in to his story, relaxing at the idea that he was not the only one who cracked life secrets around this place, “I spent a lot of time in law offices when I was with my mom and had read a lot of book on children’s rights, so I lawyered up with a guy whose law firm was a pretty regular stop when I was with my mom, and he helped me get emancipated, instead of going into the system.”
“What’d you do after you got ‘mancipated?” her painted fingernails picking carefully at her bouffant hairstyle.
“The lawyer offered me a job as a gopher and I took it. I quit school and worked full time. When I wasn’t running errands or looking up cases for him, I was studying every law book I could get my hands on.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I wanted to make sure that other families got that justice that my family never got. You know, my step-mom bailed out my dad and he only served five years for killing my mother. So I took the bar in California, no law school, and passed. Been a lawyer ever since.”
“So how’d you end up back here in Texas?”
“Wanted to be closer to my mom’s grave, she was buried here by her parents. You know, you smell like she did, same perfume and everything.” He thought carefully now about his life with his mom and why he hadn’t gotten to spend more time with her. He thought about why this session had gotten so...off topic.
“Well, sir, time’s about up unless you want to double your session, is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”
“No, not tonight, I may see you again though,” he handed her seven, crisp, one-hundred dollar bills. “You deserve the double payment even if it’s not double time tonight.” He walked out of the room swiftly, suit jacket still in hand.
“Thanks, I hope I do see you again,” she said as she thumbed her hour’s pay and checked her makeup in the cracked mirror. The peeling paint behind her finally chipped onto the floor as she shut the door of room “#G” for the night.
As she walked back to her post on the corner, she stopped to pull up her fishnets. Another girl wearing a leopard print mini dress and red high-heels came up next to her, “how’d it go tonight, girl?”
“Another easy seven hunskie; I guess there’s no psychologists in this town quite as good as a naked girl in bed for a guy with mommy issues.”
“Damn girl, you always get lucky. All I got was fifty bucks and another black eye.”
Disclaimer: This was a fictional story depicting fictional characters, not based off any real people or events and came completely from the author's imagination.

It's two a.m. and I am thinking about the same thing I think about every moment of every day. My dad. Sometimes the thoughts sit comfortably at the back of my mind, sometimes I remember the good things, sometimes I do things exactly like he would have done them and think of him. Right now, I can't seem to think of anything other than the fact that he is gone. He was and is such a huge part of me and everything I do. How can it be possible that his body no longer exists...anywhere? His smile, his never fading dark hair and tan, his mind are all just gone. And for what? What purpose was served by the way he died? I don't understand how he could have left me for the alcohol emotionally first and, eventually, physically too.

It doesn't matter if a person is five, nineteen, or forty-five, if a parent makes any conscious decision that puts something else before their kids, the person will somehow blame themselves for not being good enough. I have seen it in every part of my life. My family and closest friends that are lacking parents in one way or another blame themselves in some way. Whether the parent lacks realistic thinking, drinks all the time, or even chose another family, the children are stuck seeking that parent's approval and attention. It doesn't matter how good or bad the parent is that is around, just that the other one would be if we, the kids, were just a bit better.

Eventually we get tired of trying to impress a parent who fixates on something else which is, seemingly, more important than us. We get angry. But should we resolve that anger and go ahead with the best relationship that is possible? Or do we stay angry and hope things get better in the long run. But what if there is no long run? How, then, to we let go of the pain, anger, and ultimately, the sadness that plagues us? I don't have an answer, yet.

I do know that the most important thing parents can do is to never walk away from their kids no matter what age, stage of life, no matter what circumstance or temptation. Abandonment has so many different meanings that people don't consider and so many resulting emotions.

I wrote a part of a song shortly after my dad died, here are the lyrics so far:

I wrapped my hand around your finger, like I had you wrapped around mine
I cry for the laugh I want to hear just one more time
I am broken with out Daddy
I am broken, cause' I'm Daddy's little girl

But where does that get me? I was broken before and am broken now. My life has been a roller coaster of events and emotions, but my general position remains stagnant. So now what?

10 Questions

1. Why, when I am the only person driving towards the intersection in any direction, does the light turn red?

2. When does it stop being partly cloudy and start being partly sunny?

3. Why put a round pizza in a square box?

4. Why does honey come in plastic bears instead of something like plastic bees?

5. Why are men's shoe sizes and women's shoe sizes different? AND why do little kids' shoe sizes go backwards? (ex. size 11 is much smaller than size 5)

6. Why is it okay to kill a deer, dismember it, and put the head on your wall when it is illegal to keep one alive as a pet?

7. Why can my campus post office never get the right number of package slips in my box?

8. Why does your water bill go up if there is a drip in a faucet when, really, the water is just being recycled?

9. Is snow measured when it is frozen or melted?

10. What if we all see colors differently and just don't know it? What if we all ACTUALLY have the same favorite color?

A Short Story Written for Fiction Class

"June 15 2008"

One last sip was all it took to put him under. His bunk remained as lifeless and cold as he was, now, in the refrigerator at some morgue downtown. His pillow was crumpled with a few strands of dark hair scattered on top and his sheets were shoved to the bottom of the bed. A card from his daughter lay untouched under the pillow. "Happy Father's Day Daddy, I hope you come home soon!" His Rolex watch had been placed in the bag with his clothes, glasses, wallet, and wedding ring.

The tan line on his left ring finger screamed some kind of commitment. His eyes were open, but glazed and filmy, his lips slightly parted and brow furrowed in confusion. His hair was brushed back, making him look so much younger than he really was. He looked exactly as he had the last ten years of his life. He didn't look pained like he had forty-eight hours ago, no longer shaking or hiccuping or vomiting. His body was not as pickled on the outside as the coroner's report indicated the insides were, though it did explain high levels of prolactin and proteins on his cheeks, listed right next to "Brain Weight: 3.24 Lbs."

She twisted her wedding band around her finger as she stared blankly at the wall, warm tears streaming down her nose, over her lips, and onto the head of the little girl in her lap. The phone clanged somewhere in the house, unanswered. The doorbell rang and people walked away without catching a glimpse of her, he widow. She watched as good friends walked in anyway, felt as they squeezed her, and watched them walk out again leaving her and and her daughter alone. She heard as they commented on how she was unresponsive, unaware, and glazed over. She heard the replies: What else was she supposed to be?

She finally drove, dazed, to his last home. She picked up the bag full of clothes and checked its contents for the ring and the card he must have kept. She pulled the ring out and slid it over her finger next to her own ring, still grabbing for the card. Not finding it, she turned to the bunk and smelled her husband's unmistakable scent of Jose Cuervo. She found the card as she hugged the pillow, adding prolactin and proteins to the mix of substances on the white pillowcase.

On the door, a sign read "Memories of Kane."

She meticulously wrote, "He promised to get better, no matter what the cost."

A list

Top Ten Things I do When I am Bored:

Take a nap
Get on facebook
Do homework
Clean
Read a book
Listen to a book on tape
Indoor Rock Climbing
Blog
Watch TV
Go to Walmart

Top Ten Goals for this year

Get a passport
Get out of state (preferrably the country...)
Get a summer internship
Learn the harp
Get a 3.5 gpa
Keep my bonsai alive
Get a regular work out schedule
Save money for an automatic starter
Save money to have saved!
Unknown...but it will be good.

Inauguration day at a private school.

7:00 a.m. I woke up this morning when it was still dark outside and flipped on the TV to find out what coat I would need to wear to class before I got into the shower.  I noticed my morning news was not on and remembered it was inauguration day.  I was awed but the number of people on my screen waiting for then President Elect Obama to be sworn into office.  I can't believe I forgot.

7:30 a.m. Look at tv while drinking my morning shake and eating banana and find out Cheney has thrown out his back moving boxes and is in a wheel chair, poor guy.  Think it's rather funny when CBS commentator calls him a tough old bird.  Quite possibly the most exciting thing I had seen on the tv screen this morning

8:00 a.m. Fiction class starts off with the importance of watching this inauguration, almost the whole class is already sporting Obama t-shirts, sweatshirts, and socks.  Continues to cover Hemmingway's short story Hills like White Elephants and get into detailed conversation about back alley abortion.

10:00 a.m.  Philosophy professor asks why we are all taking the class, tells us about a text that was just ordered and not on our book list, hands out syllabi, informs us that we cannot miss class or our grades will be deducted, tells us all to go watch inauguration.

10:30 a.m.  Head to bookstore to pick up anthology for fiction class and run into three friends!  One starts trying to figure out the average cost of a meal on a meal plan and asks me how much it is.  My response: "I'm an English major, you do the math."  We all head to the campus center.

10:40 a.m.  Everyone stops in front of TV in campus Grille.  I look at my watch and realize I have just enough time to mail out books and head back to my apartment before the good stuff starts.  

10:50 a.m. Eating a slice of cold pizza, I watch the final moments before the swearing in.  I chuckle at Katie Couric saying Joe Biden was President for about five minutes before Obama was sworn in.  

11:05 a.m.  Obama takes oath and messes up a bit.  I think it makes him human, the reporters try to make up for it by saying it doesn't matter what he says it's just great that it is him saying it.  I continue to watch former President Bush leave the white house and notice they leave exactly like the Reagan's did, ten minutes later they show the Reagan's leaving the White House and comment how similar the departures were.  I watch the coverage and commentaries until 12:30.

12:30 p.m. Head to Linguistics.  

12:45 p.m. Professor of Linguistics comes in, hands out syllabi, I realize she is a pacer and this is going to be an interesting semester looking back and forth across the front of the room.  A few comments are made by my fellow students that make me realize all those kids in high schools across the nation that are annoying, outspoken, and just plain weird that everyone can't wait to get away from must flock to my school.  Prof. says we are not to miss handing in assignments unless we are in the hospital or miss class unless someone has died.  We leave because Prof. wants to go watch CNN online.

1:10 p.m.  I sit in Grille entering syllabi information into my planner, see my old SA who just got back from Africa, agree to do lunch, go to rock climbing class.

2:15 p.m. Rock Climbing instructor comes in, "how bout that president?  Let's get started."  Straight forward and to the point, I like this guy.  We climb up a large ladder to throw our ropes over, put on harnesses, learn to belay, start climbing and belaying.  When I am belaying for a girl I think is my size (who took ten minutes to learn to tie the knot and couldn't get her clip unscrewed), she gets about ten feet up and says she is falling like twelve times before she actually falls.  I think I am ready for it but, not knowing that this girl has about forty-fifty pounds on me, I go flying up into the air, the instructor catches me while I am still somewhat holding her from falling, at least with the rope, and am dangling for a minute while I wiggle my way back to the ground to let her down.  Instructor tells her not to jump off the wall next time if she is "falling."

4:00 p.m. I am tired, everyone outside is still chanting for Obama.  I am proud he is the President, I think he will do an amazing job, I respect him and admire him and his family, love his honesty, but do not chant.  He can't hear me and he is already the president, I have no one to convince and I walk back to my room.

Now: I am amazed that I got out of approximately three hours of class time for the inauguration when my professors stressed how important class time was.  I am thankful that in a private school, so concerned about education, national news is still important

My Best and worst of 2008

A lot of things went down in 2008 that left an impact on me personnally and on the whole world. The US presidential election, the Olympics, and general world drama in the world has been pretty significant. Completing my first year of college and starting my second, my dad's death, my ruinion with family that is finally holding strong, and learning a lot about myself through loss and perserverance has made 2008 stand out as a year that will be remembered.
I have decided to post some of the things that I came across in 2008 that can make my best and worst list, significant or not.
(Not everything started/was released in 2008 but I experienced it in 2008 for the first time which puts in on my '08 list)

Best Book: Running With Scizzors--Augusten Burroughs
Worst Book: New Moon--Stephanie Meyers (No Stampede Please)

Best Movie: Wanted
Worst Movie: Twilight

Best way to pass time in the car: Books on Tape
Worst way to pass time in the car: German lessons on tape

Best Purchase: Full Size Heated Blanket
Worst Purchase: Conditioner that twisted my hair into knots

Best Vacation: Colorado Family Trip
Worst Vacation: California Funeral Trip

Best Class: Craft of Poetry
Worst Class: German

Best Holiday: Birthday spent in CO shopping!
Worst Holiday: Halloween spent at Dad's funeral (Irony anyone?)

Best discovery of myself: I would really like to teach for a couple years before grad school
Worst discovery of myself: I can't put things on the backburner as well as I thought I could

Best Political Moment of 2008: Barack Obama's Election
Worst Political Moment of 2008: John McCain's choice of Sarah Palin as running mate

Best Gadget: Sony Camera
Worst Gadget: My Crashing Laptop

Best TV Show: Jon and Kate Plus Eight
Worst TV Show: South Park

Best Sitcom: Gary Unmarried
Worst Sitcom: Two and A Half Men (used to be great but this last season has been different...not in a good way)

Most Exciting Moment: Rafting the Arkasas River in CO
Least Exciting Moment: People telling me how noticable it was that the dentist accidentally shortened one of my front teeth


Over all 2008 was a decent year. It was tough, but I definitely learned a lot. Thanks so much to my friends and family for supporting and cheering for me as I do all of you.

Lots of Love

Oh Life

In an effort to spend my holiday gift cards before they burn holes in my pockets, I went to Best Buy, the Mall, and Target today. At the mall, I saw three parents of my high school classmates whom I chose to avoid to get out of the awkward "what's your major? where do you go to school?" questions and to not have to ask about my classmates who I didn't care what they were doing in high school much less now. Then at Best Buy I saw a group of people I recognized but could only remember the name of one of them. Nothing says unexpected high school reunion like "Hey....you." Next, in the same store, I saw another group of people I knew at some point in my life but could not remember if I recognized them from high school or college. I avoided this group altogether.

Target came next. Here, I saw a girl I new from elementary, Jr high, and high school and of course knew who she was, but then, out of no where comes the "you" group again. I quickly said goodbye and booked it out of the area. Down three aisles and I see more classmates' parents and have to dodge them as well. I have no clue why so many people from my hometown were in the city today. I don't see that many people that often when I am in my home town.

Weird

An update on the rest of my life...as always has ups and downs like a fishing boat in a hurricane. One friend being melodramatic and one friend nit-picking as much as possible at my life. One friend changed for the worse since I last saw him, one friend is finally getting to move on from an ugly old job! I got a new pair of Ugg boots today and they are fantastic. We also got a new microwave and coffee maker which may be dull to some but it makes the house pop. Way to start the new year!