In two months time, I will begin a brand new decade of my life. I will say goodbye to my twenties and hello to the unknown and uncharted territory of my thirties.
I'm not really sure how I feel about this. Most of me screams out "BRING. IT. ON!"
I mean, why not right? It's not as though I'm severely attached to my twenties. The first half was pretty much complete crap anyway, so why not start this new decade of my life with a big bang?
I do, however find myself having more difficulty with my identity. I am comfortable in my own skin and have grown to know and love the person I have become, but when it comes to expressing it, I'm not sure what I am still able to get away with.
I've never been a conformist so fashion and style have never necessarily been an issue for me. But I do find myself more and more often standing in front of clothes racks, holding something up and internally asking myself "am I still able to get away with this?" I still wear t-shirts with 80's movies logos on them (shirts, I might add, that kids who weren't even born in the 80's are wearing....Now they're "retro". I'm sorry. When exactly did that happen?) I still have to shop in the juniors section of department stores because I'm so small and any time I do try to venture into the "adult" section, I start to twitch. Let me just say, I've never been the cardigan and capri wearing girl so many of us are. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It's just not me. I have my own sense of style but I feel like I need to create a new look for the next 10 years of my life.
It's challenging and I'm not sure why it has become such a big deal. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I just recently bought my first couple of pairs of brand new blue jeans since I graduated from high school....thrift stores are so underrated and yes, that includes goodwill if you were wondering. And don't even get me started on the adventure I had, trying to figure out what bra size and style I am.
I try not to think about it.
I think one of my main issues is the fact that i don't tend to live my life out in order. For example, I didn't have my first drink until I was 23...no wait, maybe 26? My college years were mostly spent crammed into a small bedroom studying. And my social life has only just recently started to become a little more exciting. Maybe I'm just a late bloomer?
I remember when I was in fifth grade and my best friend at the time had just started wearing make-up and dressing more sophisticated. (Well, as "sophisticated" as any fifth grader can dress in the late eighties/early nineties. Let me also add that this was the same girl who dressed in one of my Mom's old dresses and high heels and danced with a toothbrush in front of my entire family....Enough said.) I was still in holey blue jeans and multi-colored hair ties. I remember how hurt I was when she told me I was too immature. I mean Hello! I was 10! Who isn't immature at that age?! Needless to say, once we hit middle school, we didn't remain super close.
I didn't recognize boys as anything other than stupid until about eighth grade. But I was too shy to really admit it. When I finally did reveal to my best friend (different girl) that I did indeed "like-like" somebody...she told pretty much the entire class. And that was pretty much the end of that friendship.
By ninth grade, i was ready for my first true-life boyfriend, whereas several girls in my class (and some that were even younger) were already pregnant. I waited to lose my virginity until the year I turned 22...and that was an accident.
So anyway, I'm not sure if I should approach this new time in my life differently than what I've done in the past or if I should just keep trucking along as though it were any other birthday. Everyone keeps cracking jokes about the big 3-0. So what right? It's just another number, another year. I've always said, you're only as old as you think you are. I'm just not really sure how old I am mentally....
I'm watching friends, old and new, grow up so fast. In fact, I guess that's what I've always done. Everyone has always seemed to be in such a hurry to get to this age, to grow up, to be "thirty, flirty and thriving" and yet now it seems all anyone really wants to do is slow it down. Just a little.
I'm happy that I've gone about it a bit differently. And I'm happy where I am in life right now. I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world and most importantly, he gets me. He loves me for who I am and doesn't try to change me like so many people in my past have. My family is the best any girl could ask for and I feel very fortunate at how close we are. As far as work, well, I'll put it this way, it challenges me to strive for something more in the future.
So I'll say it again 30....
Bring. It. On.
I have a whole new set of goals and dreams to reach over the course of my next 10 years and I am determined to accomplish every single on of them.
Even if it's a little out of step from everyone else.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Monday, November 1, 2010
Lists
One could say I'm a total freak when it comes to making lists. I make lists for EVERYTHING! In fact, here is a list of some of the things I make lists for:
And before you ask, the answer is yes. I am one of those people who will write down an item on a list, even if I've already finished doing said item, just so that i can mark it off.
What?
It gives me a sense of accomplishment. PLUS! It makes me feel all gooey and happy inside.
Hey. I never said I was normal....Oh! that's an idea. I could make a list of things that make me not so normal. For example:
Lists are just an every day part of my life. I can't imagine what I would be like if I didn't make them. It would drive me absolutely batty. I wouldn't know what to do next. Even if I don't get everything done on a list, it still comforts me that it's there, awaiting the blessed day that it will get scratched out once it's all finished.
It's the small things in life that make me happy, and more importantly...... keep me sane.
Though the thought comes to mind, that I am anything but, after re-reading this blog.
Oh well....
I. LOVE. LISTS!
- Groceries
- Target
- Things we hope to own one day
- Chores around the house
- Errands to run
- Songs I would like to someday download onto my ipod
- Christmas Wants
- Amazon.com.....(thanks to the evil bastards who just keep recommending stuff)
- Blog ideas
And before you ask, the answer is yes. I am one of those people who will write down an item on a list, even if I've already finished doing said item, just so that i can mark it off.
What?
It gives me a sense of accomplishment. PLUS! It makes me feel all gooey and happy inside.
Hey. I never said I was normal....Oh! that's an idea. I could make a list of things that make me not so normal. For example:
- When I eat bite sized crackers or small candy, I have to have an even number (1 piece for each side of my mouth), otherwise I just feel unbalanced.
- Before I leave the house every morning, I have to find all six pets and kiss them goodbye. And if I walk by one I've already said goodbye to and pet him/her again, I have to start all over so as not to make anyone jealous.
- When watching a t.v show on DVD, I often count the minutes in my head to gauge how much longer I have before the show is over. Not because I'm bored....but because my brain has to be doing something.
- Speaking of t.v, I'm obsessed over the percentage of stuff we have taped on the DVR. I like to keep it low. Heaven forbid it go above 40....at this point, my head starts to spin.
- I always have a fear that I have left something on inside the house that will make it catch fire, trap the pets inside and burn everything to the ground. I can't tell you how many times I have been late somewhere because I had to turn around to make sure I hadn't left the stove on...when I hadn't even turned in on at all that day.
- One would think I would put everything I need before I leave to go somewhere in the same place. But alas, I don't. And I am constantly running around the house, trying to get everything together before I leave. Andrew gets a kick out of this one because I always leave before him and he always gets out of bed to wave goodbye. He's learned that he has a few minutes to spare when I rush upstairs to tell him I'm leaving NOW and yet, I'm still not ready once he makes it downstairs to kiss me goodbye. But I like to tell myself that this is one of the many reasons why he loves me.
- I like Adam Lambert. There. I said it. Happy?
Lists are just an every day part of my life. I can't imagine what I would be like if I didn't make them. It would drive me absolutely batty. I wouldn't know what to do next. Even if I don't get everything done on a list, it still comforts me that it's there, awaiting the blessed day that it will get scratched out once it's all finished.
It's the small things in life that make me happy, and more importantly...... keep me sane.
Though the thought comes to mind, that I am anything but, after re-reading this blog.
Oh well....
I. LOVE. LISTS!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Going Through the Motions
I used to want to save the world.
I can remember being 10 years old and writing poems about the troops over in Desert Storm. I've always had a "hippie heart" so to speak and I've always wanted everyone to be at peace. Somewhere or some time along my way, I seem to have lost that connection. That will to do unto others as you wish them to do unto you, or however the saying goes. But what happened?
It's not as though I don't still treat people with the respect I would want to be treated with. I still say "please" and "thank you"...and I am known to pick up random trash on the street or in the park when I'm walking the dog. But that's as far as I let it go these days. I don't make any extra effort to lend a helping hand.
I remember one time in elementary school, one of my classmates' house burned down. I was so very sad for her and I wanted to do something to make it all better. As a class, we collectively got her new clothes and shoes....and I remember asking my Mom if it would be OK if we also got her a doll. I couldn't imagine having lost all of my prized possessions. I have always been a collector of sorts, not so much for the "having" of things, but the memory behind them. For instance, I still have most of my stuffed animals that I've collected over the years as I continued to grow older. And if you were to ask me when and where I got any one of them, I could tell you. This little girl had just lost all of that. I wanted to fix it.
It's safe to say that I have always been a "fixer". There was another time when my family and I were on vacation and we all got into an enormous fight. It was horrible and all I wanted was the yelling to stop. So I came up with the idea of "going back to bed" and pretending that we were all waking up and starting a brand new day. It worked for a little while, but if I remember correctly, there was still some fighting that followed. But I didn't have the mentality then that it takes to need to talk things out to make it better. And even then...sometimes that doesn't even work.
All of my past relationships (with the exception of one or two...including my wonderful husband:) have been guys who I thought I could help. I wanted so badly to "fix" them that I never even realized (until much much later) that if a person doesn't want to change...there is nothing anyone else can do about it...no matter how much you love him. I would get so caught up in their pain, that I didn't even recognize the pain that it was causing me...and the hole that was being burned into my own heart. It's healing now...but I'm not sure if it will ever completely go away.
And that's OK. I learned from these lessons...even if I made the same mistake more than once. My whole life, I heard how you can't expect to make the same mistakes over and over again, expecting a different result. And to any outsider...or in some cases, even an insider....it would have appeared that that was exactly what I was doing. But I never looked at it that way...I just continued to hope to get a different result because I wanted to succeed. I don't take failure very lightly and I'm not one to just give up. But I finally had to choose my battles and except the fact that certain ones, I would never win.
But maybe I wasn't supposed to?
I mean I wouldn't be where I am now without the zig-zagged path I took. And I'm proud of how much I have accomplished. But now I find myself getting back to basics and wanting to gain back what I managed to lose during the time I let myself get lost in everyone else. I'm tired of feeling jaded and held back by my past experiences. I am still capable of making a difference, some kind of mark on this World...no matter how messed up it seems to be.
I often hear myself complaining about how there is never enough time, never enough money, never enough this or that. But all we have in this life is TIME. And we have to make the best out of it. I need to wake up. Stop being a zombie going through the motions and dig down deep into the heart of it....whatever "it" is.
I still do want to save the world. And this scares me. I get so caught up and involved in the things I believe in and if I fail (again)....then what?
I'm only one person. But I still have a voice. A voice, that even if only one person listens to, will scream as loud as she can just to help that one person. That would be something.
It may not be the whole world....but I guess it's a start.
I can remember being 10 years old and writing poems about the troops over in Desert Storm. I've always had a "hippie heart" so to speak and I've always wanted everyone to be at peace. Somewhere or some time along my way, I seem to have lost that connection. That will to do unto others as you wish them to do unto you, or however the saying goes. But what happened?
It's not as though I don't still treat people with the respect I would want to be treated with. I still say "please" and "thank you"...and I am known to pick up random trash on the street or in the park when I'm walking the dog. But that's as far as I let it go these days. I don't make any extra effort to lend a helping hand.
I remember one time in elementary school, one of my classmates' house burned down. I was so very sad for her and I wanted to do something to make it all better. As a class, we collectively got her new clothes and shoes....and I remember asking my Mom if it would be OK if we also got her a doll. I couldn't imagine having lost all of my prized possessions. I have always been a collector of sorts, not so much for the "having" of things, but the memory behind them. For instance, I still have most of my stuffed animals that I've collected over the years as I continued to grow older. And if you were to ask me when and where I got any one of them, I could tell you. This little girl had just lost all of that. I wanted to fix it.
It's safe to say that I have always been a "fixer". There was another time when my family and I were on vacation and we all got into an enormous fight. It was horrible and all I wanted was the yelling to stop. So I came up with the idea of "going back to bed" and pretending that we were all waking up and starting a brand new day. It worked for a little while, but if I remember correctly, there was still some fighting that followed. But I didn't have the mentality then that it takes to need to talk things out to make it better. And even then...sometimes that doesn't even work.
All of my past relationships (with the exception of one or two...including my wonderful husband:) have been guys who I thought I could help. I wanted so badly to "fix" them that I never even realized (until much much later) that if a person doesn't want to change...there is nothing anyone else can do about it...no matter how much you love him. I would get so caught up in their pain, that I didn't even recognize the pain that it was causing me...and the hole that was being burned into my own heart. It's healing now...but I'm not sure if it will ever completely go away.
And that's OK. I learned from these lessons...even if I made the same mistake more than once. My whole life, I heard how you can't expect to make the same mistakes over and over again, expecting a different result. And to any outsider...or in some cases, even an insider....it would have appeared that that was exactly what I was doing. But I never looked at it that way...I just continued to hope to get a different result because I wanted to succeed. I don't take failure very lightly and I'm not one to just give up. But I finally had to choose my battles and except the fact that certain ones, I would never win.
But maybe I wasn't supposed to?
I mean I wouldn't be where I am now without the zig-zagged path I took. And I'm proud of how much I have accomplished. But now I find myself getting back to basics and wanting to gain back what I managed to lose during the time I let myself get lost in everyone else. I'm tired of feeling jaded and held back by my past experiences. I am still capable of making a difference, some kind of mark on this World...no matter how messed up it seems to be.
I often hear myself complaining about how there is never enough time, never enough money, never enough this or that. But all we have in this life is TIME. And we have to make the best out of it. I need to wake up. Stop being a zombie going through the motions and dig down deep into the heart of it....whatever "it" is.
I still do want to save the world. And this scares me. I get so caught up and involved in the things I believe in and if I fail (again)....then what?
I'm only one person. But I still have a voice. A voice, that even if only one person listens to, will scream as loud as she can just to help that one person. That would be something.
It may not be the whole world....but I guess it's a start.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Untold Stories
I just finished reading one of the most endearing novels I have EVER read. Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella is a tale about a somewhat lost 20-something old girl named Lara Lington who gets enlightened by none other than the ghost of her recently deceased great aunt Sadie. Sadie appears as her 23 year old self and she is in search of a necklace she remembers wearing when she was the happiest in her life.
So the quest begins for Lara to find said necklace so that she can get rid of this obnoxious great aunt, who enjoys meddling in her life by screaming loudly at random people, making them do crazy things without them knowing why. The longer it takes, the more Lara finds out about Sadie and all of the untold stories that her family never knew. They become friends.
This is only a brief synopsis and I'm really not doing it any justice, but one scene in the story particularly reached out to me. It's when Lara takes a box of old Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger's movies to the nursing home in which Sadie passed away in. Her hopes in doing this are to possibly bring a smile to some of the faces who perhaps remember the first time they went to see these movies. As the nurse pops the tape in, Lara stands back and watches the faces of these people transform. Recognition hits them and a smile spreads across the face of an older man, sitting in a wheel chair in the corner. As Lara continues to watch, it's almost like they all transform into their 20 year old selves and it hits her. They are in old bodies, but they relive the happiest times of their lives day in and day out...and no one even knows or notices. They all have their own "Sadie" stories to tell.
This got me thinking, we ALL have our "Sadie stories". There is so much about my families' lives that I don't know about. Friends too. I look back and can see my great grandmother cooking us her famous macaroni and cheese while my great granddaddy sits in his ratty chair, drinking coffee out of a saucer plate. I remember the old picture of his and his brother in the army hanging on the opposite wall. And I can see so clearly the old glass coca cola bottles hanging out on the back porch in numbers. But this is all I knew. They were once my age. They lived through some of the most amazing history in the world. We read it in our history books in school, about the Great depression and World War 1 and all the wars that followed...but they LIVED it. They are a part of that history and so much more.
The same goes for my grandparents. Their lives before I came along are such a mystery to me. I remember hearing bits and pieces while growing up, but there is so much more I want to know. We take advantage of what we have when we still have it and the chance to learn more about it. But once these people are gone, their stories go with them. This perhaps explains my somewhat morbid obsession with cemeteries. There is so much history that never makes the fine print of the books we read in school.
So here is my challenge. I want to hear your story. Something or someone that you remember that has helped make you who you are. And if you don't tell it to me...please, tell it to someone. We only have so much time on this Earth and who knows where we go afterwords. The important thing is to leave something behind for those who come after you. Don't be an untold story. As miniature as you might feel in the grand making of history, you're a part of it regardless. If you want to leave your mark.....don't be an untold story.
So the quest begins for Lara to find said necklace so that she can get rid of this obnoxious great aunt, who enjoys meddling in her life by screaming loudly at random people, making them do crazy things without them knowing why. The longer it takes, the more Lara finds out about Sadie and all of the untold stories that her family never knew. They become friends.
This is only a brief synopsis and I'm really not doing it any justice, but one scene in the story particularly reached out to me. It's when Lara takes a box of old Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger's movies to the nursing home in which Sadie passed away in. Her hopes in doing this are to possibly bring a smile to some of the faces who perhaps remember the first time they went to see these movies. As the nurse pops the tape in, Lara stands back and watches the faces of these people transform. Recognition hits them and a smile spreads across the face of an older man, sitting in a wheel chair in the corner. As Lara continues to watch, it's almost like they all transform into their 20 year old selves and it hits her. They are in old bodies, but they relive the happiest times of their lives day in and day out...and no one even knows or notices. They all have their own "Sadie" stories to tell.
This got me thinking, we ALL have our "Sadie stories". There is so much about my families' lives that I don't know about. Friends too. I look back and can see my great grandmother cooking us her famous macaroni and cheese while my great granddaddy sits in his ratty chair, drinking coffee out of a saucer plate. I remember the old picture of his and his brother in the army hanging on the opposite wall. And I can see so clearly the old glass coca cola bottles hanging out on the back porch in numbers. But this is all I knew. They were once my age. They lived through some of the most amazing history in the world. We read it in our history books in school, about the Great depression and World War 1 and all the wars that followed...but they LIVED it. They are a part of that history and so much more.
The same goes for my grandparents. Their lives before I came along are such a mystery to me. I remember hearing bits and pieces while growing up, but there is so much more I want to know. We take advantage of what we have when we still have it and the chance to learn more about it. But once these people are gone, their stories go with them. This perhaps explains my somewhat morbid obsession with cemeteries. There is so much history that never makes the fine print of the books we read in school.
So here is my challenge. I want to hear your story. Something or someone that you remember that has helped make you who you are. And if you don't tell it to me...please, tell it to someone. We only have so much time on this Earth and who knows where we go afterwords. The important thing is to leave something behind for those who come after you. Don't be an untold story. As miniature as you might feel in the grand making of history, you're a part of it regardless. If you want to leave your mark.....don't be an untold story.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Death in the Eyes of Lorelai
This morning I woke up like I would on any typical Thursday morning. I tried to sleep in because it's my day off and, as always, was unable to. So, I got up, threw my flip flops on and took Leira for her morning walk.
Once outside, she did her typical sniff-sniff here, sniff-sniff there until she found the exact spot she wanted to urinate....decided that that spot wasn't quite good enough and then in mid squat meandered on up the sidewalk a little further. About 10 minutes (and a few false alarms) later, we were back inside and she was begging for breakfast.
I fed her and had to fight to distract the rest of the menagerie with bribes of kitty treats so that she could eat her meal in a somewhat peaceful state. All was well. All was normal. I saw Lorelai sitting in her usual patch of sun staring at what I thought was nothing. (Because it usually is...she likes to stare at things that aren't really there. Maybe a ghost?). I went over to pet her and she chirped and squinted her eyes in a happy state like she always does. That's when I saw it.
It. Was. Huge.
It. Was. Gross.
And I think.... is that a baby one beside it?.........
Me:"BOOOOOOOSKI!!!!!!!"
Andrew (in a half awakened state): "Mumble mumble mumble, what?"
Me: "There is a HUGE ass bug downstairs and it's staring at me while Lorelai is staring at it....and I think there is another one beside it and oh God! It's staring at me too and.....can you please come get it?!?!!!!.......NOW!"
I don't really get an answer, I just hear Andrew upstairs putting his pants on...(because why dispose of a nasty bug in your underwear right?) He stumbles downstairs to examine the bug. The three of us stare on.
Me. Andrew. And Lorelai.
Andrew is much braver than I am and is able to get a little closer. The bug is not moving but we think it's still alive.
Me: "What about her baby?"
Andrew: As he takes a closer look...."Um, I don't think that's her baby..."
Me: Freaking out..."Then what the hell is that?"
Then it clicks.
I look at Andrew. He looks back at me. Silently we understand. We both look at Lorelai sitting there all sweet and innocent....... guarding her prey.
She looks at us and I swear she was smiling.
It wasn't a baby bug....
It was the bugs head.
THE. BUG'S. HEAD!!!!!
Yep. My sweet little dilute calico kitty ripped the head off of said bug. Spit it out. And then sat there watching it die.....
I have no words.....
Once outside, she did her typical sniff-sniff here, sniff-sniff there until she found the exact spot she wanted to urinate....decided that that spot wasn't quite good enough and then in mid squat meandered on up the sidewalk a little further. About 10 minutes (and a few false alarms) later, we were back inside and she was begging for breakfast.
I fed her and had to fight to distract the rest of the menagerie with bribes of kitty treats so that she could eat her meal in a somewhat peaceful state. All was well. All was normal. I saw Lorelai sitting in her usual patch of sun staring at what I thought was nothing. (Because it usually is...she likes to stare at things that aren't really there. Maybe a ghost?). I went over to pet her and she chirped and squinted her eyes in a happy state like she always does. That's when I saw it.
It. Was. Huge.
It. Was. Gross.
And I think.... is that a baby one beside it?.........
Me:"BOOOOOOOSKI!!!!!!!"
Andrew (in a half awakened state): "Mumble mumble mumble, what?"
Me: "There is a HUGE ass bug downstairs and it's staring at me while Lorelai is staring at it....and I think there is another one beside it and oh God! It's staring at me too and.....can you please come get it?!?!!!!.......NOW!"
I don't really get an answer, I just hear Andrew upstairs putting his pants on...(because why dispose of a nasty bug in your underwear right?) He stumbles downstairs to examine the bug. The three of us stare on.
Me. Andrew. And Lorelai.
Andrew is much braver than I am and is able to get a little closer. The bug is not moving but we think it's still alive.
Me: "What about her baby?"
Andrew: As he takes a closer look...."Um, I don't think that's her baby..."
Me: Freaking out..."Then what the hell is that?"
Then it clicks.
I look at Andrew. He looks back at me. Silently we understand. We both look at Lorelai sitting there all sweet and innocent....... guarding her prey.
She looks at us and I swear she was smiling.
It wasn't a baby bug....
It was the bugs head.
THE. BUG'S. HEAD!!!!!
Yep. My sweet little dilute calico kitty ripped the head off of said bug. Spit it out. And then sat there watching it die.....
I have no words.....
Vampires Vs. DMV...What are you more afraid of?
So my wonderful sister-in-law Jenn and I FINALLY went to go see Eclipse last week. We had to wait longer than we initially wanted to because of other things going on and not being able to find the time to actually get together and go see it. But alas, the day finally came last Thursday when I got a text that went something like this: (Let me just make the point here that I am so very upset with myself for erasing all of the text messages that created the conversation that pursued once this first text was made. Therefore, some of this is a bit ad-lib, but you'll get the point:).
Jenn: "You, Me Eclipse? Tonight at 7? Come early. We'll go to Target and get candy:)."
Me: "Oooooh. Candy and Popcorn for dinner?!?"
Jenn: "That was my thought exactly."
Me: "I. Am. So. There."
Meanwhile, I go on about my day because I have several errands to run considering that, though being married finally is a super awesome experience, the process of changing one's name....is not.
First stop: the DMV.
Once there, I see that there is quite a large line ahead of me, with only one employee giving out numbers and only 2 other employees calling customers one at a time to do their business. (Really? I mean, with so many people being out of work, you would still think that the DMV would be able to round up some more employees.....I'm just saying.)
So anyway. I had only been standing there for about 5 minutes and the line had moved about a quarter of an inch within that time (Hey! I like to be positive.), when this punk-ass kid walks in, stands in line for a minimum of two seconds and exclaims: "This sucks."
He. Is. A .Genius.
And he talks to himself and sighs very loudly in my ear, which makes me want to turn around and punch him in the face. But I'm a newly, happily married woman and I want to make a point that it is possible for a single individual to wait in line at the DMV for 2 hours with a smile on her face.
So, yes. I became that person that everyone hates. You know, the one that always sees the light at the end of the tunnel, happiness and rainbows and blah blah blah. That was me on that day because I refused to let it get me down. (PLUS! I was going to see Eclipse that night with my best friend:). Extra bonus!
Speaking of which, about an hour had passed at the DMV and I was now sitting in one of those plastic chairs watching the screen in front of me, learning lots of facts about driving that I had, ahem, perhaps forgotten? I would educate you on such facts at this time, but I can't remember what they were.... However, I do remember seeing the story on Lindsy Lohan having to do jail time for skipping out on parole. (What has happened to the youth of America?) And also they showed a picture of Scarlett Johanson pumping gas....interesting stuff. Let me tell you.
I check my phone to see if I have any messages and I have three texts:
Jenn: "I am so excited!"
Jenn:"Yea vampires and shirtless werewolves."
Andrew: Vampires and Werewolves and ghosts...oh my."
I ignore Andrew's text and the fact that he is so clueless that duh! There ARE no ghosts in the Twilight saga. (He has so much to learn....). And promptly text Jenn back the ever-so grown-up expression:
Me: "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
Jenn: "I KNOW! I can't wait!!!"
Me:"Yea. Yummy werewolves with no shirts. Score!"
Jenn:" Mmmmm no shirts."
Jenn: "I mean, we will wear shirts:)."
Me: "We don't have to. Hee Hee."
Let me just interject here to explain above lesbian-type comment. It's an on-going joke that the whole reason Jenn married my brother Pat was to get close to me and because gay marriage isn't yet legal in North Carolina. It's just a joke though. Really. We aren't lesbians. Promise. So back to shirtless werewolves and sulky vampires that shimmer in the sun.
They. Are. HOT!
So the rest of my experience at the DMV wasn't very exciting. The sulky teenager (who was SO NOT hot like a sulky vampire) somehow ended up sitting two seats away from me and I would occasionally hear such comments as :"Come on! and Arrggggggg and I'm a pansy-ass white boy who can't wait patiently in line even though it's my fault I'm here because I did [insert something illegal here].....OK. Maybe not the last one but you get my point right?
Once it was finally my turn, I practically skipped to the lady and handed here my information. And.....
Nothing.
She just stared past me and started yelling across the office to the one other employee to turn her music down. Then she just stared, still not at me, but kind of above and beside me.
I continued to sit there and smile like an idiot until she finally asked me what it was I needed.
"Me: "I'm changing my name because I just got married!" (Big smile and BOUNCE!)
She said nothing, Just took my paperwork, typed in some information in the computer. When she did speak it was only to ask me for 10 bucks. I wrote her a check, still smiling and she handed me my little ticket with my new signature on it to give to the picture-taking guy. (Who, by the way, was also the guy handing out tickets to people waiting in line. Really DMV? Get your act together!) I went and sat down in another uncomfortable plastic chair, still smiling and bouncing my crossed leg back and forth, waiting for my new driver's license picture to be taken.
Then I heard something behind me.
"Arggggggggg."
Really? Could I not at least get a break from the stupid, patient-challenged teenager?
It was OK though, My name was next and even though it took 20 more minutes to be called, when I heard my new last name being spoken by someone other than family and friends, I beamed!
I went up and sat in, yet another plastic chair, smiling stupidly for what seemed like 5 minutes, while (I think?) the guy took my picture. (The reason I say "I think" is because he never actually told me when he was going to take it....)
I stood beside him waiting to see my new license with my new picture with my new name and he hands me a piece of paper with only a copy of my new signature. I looked at him blankly as he explained how my new license would come in the mail between 5-7 business days. It was at this point I had to decide whether or not I was going to continue smiling, because inside I was full of rage.
Inside Me: "You mean to tell me that I have stood here in line for 2 freaking hours beside a smelly, spoiled teenager who grumbled the whole time, reading stupid facts about driving and movie stars that I DON"T CARE about, and not even spoken to by the creepy lady at the desk over there that won't even look at me and I don't even get my license today?!?!?!!!!"
(To calm myself down, I had to "force" myself to think of hot vampires and barely of age werewolves.)
No. I didn't make a scene. But my insides were screaming. (See above.) I just took my new license (aka...little white slip of paper) and continued to practically skip out of the DMV.
So yes. I might not have that little piece of plastic with my new name and my new picture on it yet, but I can tell you one thing.....
I bet I was smiling.
Jenn: "You, Me Eclipse? Tonight at 7? Come early. We'll go to Target and get candy:)."
Me: "Oooooh. Candy and Popcorn for dinner?!?"
Jenn: "That was my thought exactly."
Me: "I. Am. So. There."
Meanwhile, I go on about my day because I have several errands to run considering that, though being married finally is a super awesome experience, the process of changing one's name....is not.
First stop: the DMV.
Once there, I see that there is quite a large line ahead of me, with only one employee giving out numbers and only 2 other employees calling customers one at a time to do their business. (Really? I mean, with so many people being out of work, you would still think that the DMV would be able to round up some more employees.....I'm just saying.)
So anyway. I had only been standing there for about 5 minutes and the line had moved about a quarter of an inch within that time (Hey! I like to be positive.), when this punk-ass kid walks in, stands in line for a minimum of two seconds and exclaims: "This sucks."
He. Is. A .Genius.
And he talks to himself and sighs very loudly in my ear, which makes me want to turn around and punch him in the face. But I'm a newly, happily married woman and I want to make a point that it is possible for a single individual to wait in line at the DMV for 2 hours with a smile on her face.
So, yes. I became that person that everyone hates. You know, the one that always sees the light at the end of the tunnel, happiness and rainbows and blah blah blah. That was me on that day because I refused to let it get me down. (PLUS! I was going to see Eclipse that night with my best friend:). Extra bonus!
Speaking of which, about an hour had passed at the DMV and I was now sitting in one of those plastic chairs watching the screen in front of me, learning lots of facts about driving that I had, ahem, perhaps forgotten? I would educate you on such facts at this time, but I can't remember what they were.... However, I do remember seeing the story on Lindsy Lohan having to do jail time for skipping out on parole. (What has happened to the youth of America?) And also they showed a picture of Scarlett Johanson pumping gas....interesting stuff. Let me tell you.
I check my phone to see if I have any messages and I have three texts:
Jenn: "I am so excited!"
Jenn:"Yea vampires and shirtless werewolves."
Andrew: Vampires and Werewolves and ghosts...oh my."
I ignore Andrew's text and the fact that he is so clueless that duh! There ARE no ghosts in the Twilight saga. (He has so much to learn....). And promptly text Jenn back the ever-so grown-up expression:
Me: "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
Jenn: "I KNOW! I can't wait!!!"
Me:"Yea. Yummy werewolves with no shirts. Score!"
Jenn:" Mmmmm no shirts."
Jenn: "I mean, we will wear shirts:)."
Me: "We don't have to. Hee Hee."
Let me just interject here to explain above lesbian-type comment. It's an on-going joke that the whole reason Jenn married my brother Pat was to get close to me and because gay marriage isn't yet legal in North Carolina. It's just a joke though. Really. We aren't lesbians. Promise. So back to shirtless werewolves and sulky vampires that shimmer in the sun.
They. Are. HOT!
So the rest of my experience at the DMV wasn't very exciting. The sulky teenager (who was SO NOT hot like a sulky vampire) somehow ended up sitting two seats away from me and I would occasionally hear such comments as :"Come on! and Arrggggggg and I'm a pansy-ass white boy who can't wait patiently in line even though it's my fault I'm here because I did [insert something illegal here].....OK. Maybe not the last one but you get my point right?
Once it was finally my turn, I practically skipped to the lady and handed here my information. And.....
Nothing.
She just stared past me and started yelling across the office to the one other employee to turn her music down. Then she just stared, still not at me, but kind of above and beside me.
I continued to sit there and smile like an idiot until she finally asked me what it was I needed.
"Me: "I'm changing my name because I just got married!" (Big smile and BOUNCE!)
She said nothing, Just took my paperwork, typed in some information in the computer. When she did speak it was only to ask me for 10 bucks. I wrote her a check, still smiling and she handed me my little ticket with my new signature on it to give to the picture-taking guy. (Who, by the way, was also the guy handing out tickets to people waiting in line. Really DMV? Get your act together!) I went and sat down in another uncomfortable plastic chair, still smiling and bouncing my crossed leg back and forth, waiting for my new driver's license picture to be taken.
Then I heard something behind me.
"Arggggggggg."
Really? Could I not at least get a break from the stupid, patient-challenged teenager?
It was OK though, My name was next and even though it took 20 more minutes to be called, when I heard my new last name being spoken by someone other than family and friends, I beamed!
I went up and sat in, yet another plastic chair, smiling stupidly for what seemed like 5 minutes, while (I think?) the guy took my picture. (The reason I say "I think" is because he never actually told me when he was going to take it....)
I stood beside him waiting to see my new license with my new picture with my new name and he hands me a piece of paper with only a copy of my new signature. I looked at him blankly as he explained how my new license would come in the mail between 5-7 business days. It was at this point I had to decide whether or not I was going to continue smiling, because inside I was full of rage.
Inside Me: "You mean to tell me that I have stood here in line for 2 freaking hours beside a smelly, spoiled teenager who grumbled the whole time, reading stupid facts about driving and movie stars that I DON"T CARE about, and not even spoken to by the creepy lady at the desk over there that won't even look at me and I don't even get my license today?!?!?!!!!"
(To calm myself down, I had to "force" myself to think of hot vampires and barely of age werewolves.)
No. I didn't make a scene. But my insides were screaming. (See above.) I just took my new license (aka...little white slip of paper) and continued to practically skip out of the DMV.
So yes. I might not have that little piece of plastic with my new name and my new picture on it yet, but I can tell you one thing.....
I bet I was smiling.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sick Days
We all have them and we all feel a little bit guilty when we take them
I mean, think about it. We're calling into our place of work to let our employer know that we are taking the day off because we're not feeling well. And then we get to sit on the couch and do at least 3 out of 4 of the things I personally most LOVE to do. (i.e. Watch T.V. , read a good book, eat...if you aren't having the icky stomach poos and most importantly sleep).
I find it a little comical in some ways. Obviously, there are days when you wake up in the morning knowing full well that you aren't going to make it through the rest of the day without either passing out, coughing a lung up, or vomiting all over your co-workers, ect ect.
So why do we (and by "we" I mean the majority of us) make the actual "call in" as dramatic as we possibly can? Think about it. And be honest, if you have a cold, don't you manage a little cough or a sniffle on the phone? Or even make your voice sound all croak-y as if you are trying to sale to the person on the other end of the line that yes, you are indeed sick and not coming into work today.
Then there is the issue if you have to actually GO somewhere during said sick day because you need orange juice or cough syrup or Kleenex. Then you find yourself walking around the store in full alert by the off-chance that someone you work with might see you out and about when you're supposed to be at home in bed.
Maybe it's human nature to feel a little guilty when you take a day off to re-group. We offer ourselves excuses such as, well if I stay home today, it would be better if I went to work and got worse and then had to stay out multiple days. It's like when you go shopping and there's a HUGE sale and even though you weren't planning on buying anything, you come home with bags upon bags of stuff!
It's amazing how the human mind works. How we can convince ourselves that we feel or don't feel a certain way. Don't get me wrong. We all really do have our sick days. But admit it, sometimes they're "sick days" in that you just want to stay home and be able to grunge out and watch t.v, read a good book, eat whatever you want, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
I guess sometimes it's just easy to take advantage...or you feel like you're taking advantage when all you're really doing is trying to take care of yourself.
Or is that just another excuse?
I mean, think about it. We're calling into our place of work to let our employer know that we are taking the day off because we're not feeling well. And then we get to sit on the couch and do at least 3 out of 4 of the things I personally most LOVE to do. (i.e. Watch T.V. , read a good book, eat...if you aren't having the icky stomach poos and most importantly sleep).
I find it a little comical in some ways. Obviously, there are days when you wake up in the morning knowing full well that you aren't going to make it through the rest of the day without either passing out, coughing a lung up, or vomiting all over your co-workers, ect ect.
So why do we (and by "we" I mean the majority of us) make the actual "call in" as dramatic as we possibly can? Think about it. And be honest, if you have a cold, don't you manage a little cough or a sniffle on the phone? Or even make your voice sound all croak-y as if you are trying to sale to the person on the other end of the line that yes, you are indeed sick and not coming into work today.
Then there is the issue if you have to actually GO somewhere during said sick day because you need orange juice or cough syrup or Kleenex. Then you find yourself walking around the store in full alert by the off-chance that someone you work with might see you out and about when you're supposed to be at home in bed.
Maybe it's human nature to feel a little guilty when you take a day off to re-group. We offer ourselves excuses such as, well if I stay home today, it would be better if I went to work and got worse and then had to stay out multiple days. It's like when you go shopping and there's a HUGE sale and even though you weren't planning on buying anything, you come home with bags upon bags of stuff!
It's amazing how the human mind works. How we can convince ourselves that we feel or don't feel a certain way. Don't get me wrong. We all really do have our sick days. But admit it, sometimes they're "sick days" in that you just want to stay home and be able to grunge out and watch t.v, read a good book, eat whatever you want, and catch up on some much needed sleep.
I guess sometimes it's just easy to take advantage...or you feel like you're taking advantage when all you're really doing is trying to take care of yourself.
Or is that just another excuse?
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