"In the Border"

So Phil 'n' I will be going to Canada this weekend to follow the Admirals around for a few games. Just a fun lil 2010 roadtrip to ring in the new year. Which is awesome. We're hoping to meet up with DitchDoc as well, God willing!!

So naturally I gave T-mobile a ring this afternoon to find out how much I'm charged per minute for Canadian calls because I really don't know other than that it's something. What a joke that was. I called, explained that I would be driving to Canada, and politely asked my customer service rep how much I'm charged, per minute, for calls made to Canada and calls made to the US from Canada. His response? "Oh, you're driving there? Well you're just charged for normal minutes, cuz you're in the border." That... did not make sense to me. "In" the border? What the? So I acknowledge that I do not know what that means and asked for clarification. So he responds "Well you know, if you're calling either the US or Canada from in the border there is no additional fee." Still got nothing. I'm confused... is this coming up because I live IN a state that borders Canada? Don't see how that should matter... so right. I ask again. "No, no. That doesn't matter. You just don't pay any additional fee so long as you're in the border." He's not cute anymore: "Where IS in the border?" He starts faltering, then comes out with "You know, the line. Between Canada and the U.S...."

I'm a little disgruntled. So basically he was telling me that I just spent 10 minutes of my time having him totally misrepresent how "I'd only be charged normal minutes" during my trip.... by leaving out the part that it's only AS I'M CROSSING THE FREAKING BORDER. I finally got him to spit out a number and that it's 20 cents per minute extra for when I'm either in the U.S. or Canada, but whatever. That's just ridiculous. What a slime ball, with his tricky prepositions.

Classy

There was a sign posted on the entrance to my apartment complex saying they were looking for "hot girls" for their escort service with a number to call.

Classy.

Nudism may be gross, unattractive, immodest and impractical, but it sure does have its upsides and appeal

So here I am. Not wearing much clothes. Because I really need to do laundry. And being stressed. Because I'm going to have company soon. So clothes are no longer optional. And he'll be here soon. So I don't have time to do laundry first. Oh, and I should probably straighten up and do some dishes. Thus compounding the clothes crunch. AHHHHH!

Is anyone else as pathetic as me by the end of the week?

I vote "yay" for nudism. Save us all time, quarters, decisions, and stress. Who's with me??!?

(and if you are with me, meet me at Bradford Beach in Milwaukee, WI next July)

A two-fold point.

The other day Flatlander mentioned a post I wrote over a year ago. Looking at it again and thinking of that time in my life really brought a lot of memories back. I miss this blog. Back when I was living in my parents basement, going to school, and working at the nursing home, when I wanted to post on the blog I would go outside, smoke a cigarette, reflect on my day, and identify 1-3 things I'd been thinking about or of note that happened that day. Then I'd retreat back to my cave in the basement, sit down in front of the computer and write about them. Easy-breezy.

I miss that luxury.

Looking after my own home and overscheduling to the point of insanity has left me shell-shocked and brainless. Well not brainless, but it's hard to make my brain delight about something random or reflect on something past for more than 5 minutes any more before I start reviewing what I need to do in the future. And that's a crying shame.

After of summer of recuperation and just recently getting to a point where I'm comfortable with my routine of JUST holding a FT job at the hospital and looking after daily cooking/cleaning necessities, I have to admit that I have fleeting regrets that I haven't made recreational writing more of a habit again while I had the time to. And now school is starting again. Granted, at a much lesser rate as I'm only taking one 7-credit clinical, but it's still a good 12 hours of face time between lectures and clinicals at the hospital, plus all the papers, projects, readings, and prep that goes with it. Plus 40 hours of work a week. Planning out my schedule I was somewhat horrified that THIS was cutting back. What was I thinking last semester.

At any rate. The point I wanted to make is two-fold: one, I want to blog more because it's good for me. It makes me reflect. It decreases worrying and anxiety because the focus is on the past and present, not the future (except this post). And that's good. That's healthy. And two, .... Okay, there isn't really a two. Twofold points sound more impressive, though... so... right. I'll try again: And two, please feel free to harass me if I'm not posting enough. Man... writing socially in a coherent manner is harder than I remember...

Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you.

My Grievance Against My Life

Lately I feel like I live in a whole separate shadowy sleepless world apart from everyone else. Operating (or trying to anyway) at all hours. Just trying to get as much done as I can and trying not to be quite so upset about what I can't and work around it. Just a hazy existence full of looming deadlines and responsibilities to be juggled. Either I'm on the spot at school, 100% invested in other people at work, or I'm at home with Matt or at Noah's- being near them but not with them. We're all just too busy to be with each other.

Frenetic schedules are bad enough... but when you're finally in the presence of the people you ache to be in the presence of and neither of you have the time or energy to be emotionally present? That kills me.

Bitterness and Grief

Call me shallow, but I'm really upset about how my roommate (I try not to focus on how he's also my brother... makes it too personal...) murdered my daffodils the other night. I was so proud of myself. It's the first plant I've ever had that I've remember to water. They have a really nifty "vase/pot" that's a like a fish bowl but open at the top with a downwards slant, cool little rocks and foilage stuff in it, and it had two beautiful blossoms that became three thanks to my nurturing. I'm trying to prove that I can nurture plants because if I can nurture plants I can probably nurture pets and if I can nurture pets I can maybe nurture babies. Maybe I've got something to prove here.

But regardless, the point is that he sabotaged my attempt at proving I could nurture by opening the window upon which sill my plant was resting (for optimal sunlight-- it was not left there out of negligence!!) and exposed it to freezing temperatures, crippled it with frost, and thus made me a failure. It doesn't look like she'll recover, though I still have faint hopes.

And I'm very upset about this. Even bitter. Possibly in the first stage of grieving.

Sigh.

Bright Idea

Tonight at work they had to turn off the electricty and switch to generator power... which only is supposed to have enough power to vaguely illuminate the halls. Seeing as how I work 3rd shift this meant that we'd be doing cares for people in their rooms in pitch black by flashlights. This also meant that people who have those pressurized air mattresses (to help prevent bedsores), NG feeding tubes, or oxygen tanks needed alternative source of energy.

So we went around hooking all that crap up, extension cords criss crossing halls everywhere, filling portable oxygen tanks, and what have you. And then we had to do something about the call lights so residents can get a hold of us if they need something. Our solution? Noisemakers. You know, like for new years or birthday parties. Speaking of which, I want those at my next birthday party. But right, so I have to go around waking people up, explaining to them their purpose, and giving to them. Of course this is a ridiculous idea because none of these oldies have the lung capacity to go crazy on a noisemaker (least of all those on oxygen tanks!!). In fact, the most I got out of them was the feeblest of toots that could hardly be heard from 5 feet away. It was pretty pathetic. And it got most of them all anxious and stressed out-- they could die and no one would know. But right, we "covered our asses," I guess. Or something.

And then after spending an hour getting this all worked out, the call lights ended up being powered by the emergency generators after all. Which meant that EVERY FREAKING resident we'd woken up had their call light on when the lights went out because they were scared and needed to be reassured they'd be taken care of-- and also just to see if they'd work. But I mean... any one of those lights could have been the real deal, "I've fallen and I can't get up!" or needing to be toileted, or what have you. So I had to answer every freaking one and spend FOREVER on each of them reassuring them everything was going to be okay. Sigh. Had we not bothered with that bogus crap and woken them all up they'd all have slept right through it!

Whatta joke.

Word for the wise...

Baking cookies in a breadpan (as opposed to cookie sheet)= no go.

In other breaking news:

1. I had a double candle melt-down (you know, where the liquid wax melts the surrounding stuff unevenly and it busts forth like a miniature dam exploding, extinguishing your "mood" lighting and making a mess).

2. I suspect that there's something not-right about how the gas line is connected to my oven. I think it was the smell when I turned it on that tipped me off. Either that or my cookies smell FOUL. Unless you're into that whole gas station aroma thing wafting through your kitchen...

3. I am allergic to a certain "parfum" in lotions they have at work and it makes me MASSIVELY break out within minutes. Of course lotions never identify their particular scents either, so that's really helpful to know. So for now I guess "blue bottles=bad" will have to be my operative maxim.

4. My mom is like 50 times cooler when we're not living together.

5. She's so much cooler that when I woke up the other night at 2:30am and my left arm was numb and called her convinced that I was ABOUT to have a heart attack she talked me down. I even managed to fall back asleep afterwards, despite the paralyzing fear that I might die in my sleep and not even know it. I did however have to change into cute panties first-- just in case. Grandma always advised to make sure you always have nice panties on in case you had to go to the hospital. Better safe than humiliated.

6. I keep getting into weird situations where I make cool friends, but not the kind that you can mesh with your other cool friends. Unfortunate.

7. I'm two papers, 4 exams, and 4 work shifts away from sanity and new projects. I like new projects. I also like sleep. Mmmm... sleep.

8. This is a little naughty, but I've realized why exams are so much harder for me this time around. In the past I've usually had a boyfriend around to makeout with. As HORRIBLE as it may sound, it's excellent stress relief. And endorphins are good for studying/alertness/etc. Pity. Guess I'm hitting the gym.

9. I absolutely abhor when professors assign busy-work. I'm way too cool for that shit.

10. I'm coming down with a cold. Don't share anything with me, and keep your Purrell handy.

11. Bubble baths don't solve everything.

12. Trucks going over potholes in the middle of the night might sound like an intruder opening your front door. But don't be fooled. Cuz you'll look like an idiot.

13. Little I say in the first 10 minutes after I wake up can be trusted. Especially if it has anything to do with cornmeal, the song "Good Vibrations," or scooters.

14. Pussy willows are an excellent substitute for baby's breath in a bouquet on your kitchen table in the spring. For real.

15. Living alone=increased cell phone minute usage.

16. Bubblemix is not an acceptable substitute for hand soap.

17. Bubblemix is not an acceptable substitute for dish soap.

18. Bubblemix makes furniture sticky. ... and is not an acceptable furniture cleaner.

19. Febreeze is not an acceptable substitute for laundering clothes.

20. "Ironing" dresses by hanging them up while you take a sinfully long shower has its distinct limitations.

annnnnd that's about all I got.

The reason why I don't write love poems anymore:

My
dearest *BLEEP*,
Shall I compare
thee to a sundae? You are
sweatier (er, sweeter) and creamier by
far. Your grimy fingers are like pecans
with fudge coating its numerous cracks. No dollar dainty
are you, but rather a bounteous bowl brimming
with cool, creamy caramel
with fanciful figures
traced in fudge.
My darling *BLEEP*,
only a message from you could
be the cherry this delicacy dearly deserves.


I just stumbled upon this from long long ago. The original was sent via email and formatted in the shape of a sundae. And the words were colored to make it look like a sundae. And uhh... yeah. I guess none of that makes it make any more sense. What was I thinking?? You can laugh at me. I did. Once I finished my grimace.

Now you know why my girly letters lack poetry, Phil. Relieved?

Highschool Poetry Meme

Okay, so quite a bit ago, asiankp tagged me for a meme. The rules for this meme are as follows:

1. Find a poem (or two, if you're ambitious) that you wrote in high school. If you can't find a poem, find a piece of prose. If you can't find a piece of prose, find a history paper or something.

2. Post it!

3. Tag a few people to do the same.

It has taken me quite a while to find something as none of the computers we had in highschool are still in existence, and I didn't put much attention into saving things of that sort. Also, I had a situation where I got all out-of-hand and burnt my huge box full of old journals, letters, poems, stories, etc. in highschool (I used to write a good 2-3 hours every night- couldn't sleep), so not much has survived the years. I did, however, after a good deal of digging around on hardrives and boxes come up with a number of old papers and a couple of poems, including this one from February 23, 1999. I'm a little embarassed about it, but I guess that's what this meme's all about, eh? So here goes:

Dance with the Devil

Tempestuous nature of forbidden fruit
You whisper foreboding whilst attraction takes root
Purity cries out, while it’s pulling me in
Yet dark impulse swirls forth, beckoning sin
The vigilant guard of a conscience arisen
Societal guilt erects ethical prison

To lose the chains truly, you must see them first
Just then can you slake this unbearable thirst
Government quails and imprisons the free
Barring the doors, through which you could once see
The gates to redemption with impulse released
To quieted mind when repression has ceased

This portal still beckons; you’ll then know the way:
By all mores and false gods that hold sway
Think new ideas, dissident thoughts
Curse all the lies that you had always sought
Take trips through your mind, forget all these tears
Realize that society created your fears

You say this to me, with a tilt of your chin
You say “dance through the darkness and emerge free of sin”
Yet when you dance with the devil sin holds the soul
So refrain from these larks and then regain control
You know what is right, the values you hold
Remember the truth and the rest will unfold

I don’t tell you you’re evil, I don’t tell you you’re blind
You say my morals aren’t right or wrong- simply mine
Yet regardless of age, education or class
Ethics should not be viewed through this cold, tinted glass
The glass of opinion, of bias and time
Which labels my beautiful blessing a crime

So, right. That's the kind of poetry I was spewing out as a 16 year old.

I'd like to tag: the Natural Inquirer, Rayna, Krista, and Erin to share their own.

I have two things I'd like to post about.

But I'm just not in the mood.

3 ways to make a fool of yourself in front of your landlord

1) Come skipping into the house singing "It's a Beautiful Day in the NeeiiIiighborhood..!!" at the top of your lungs and run smack into him.

2) Get caught in a pink frilly shirt in 10 degree weather using a hammer to bang on a screwdriver that's applying pressure on the the radiator cap you're too weaksauce to unscrew which you immediately follow with a victory dance and peals of childish laughter just to turn around and see him standing their scratching his head looking at you in utter confoundment. Drop the hammer in embarrassment and spill the anti-freeze on the driveway.

3) Forget you're wearing a green mask (Yes. I'm 24 years old and I still haven't outgrown acne.) all over your face and neck and go traipsing down the basement to the shared laundry-facility in your duplex and not register the source of the shock and embarrassment on his face until after he's walked quickly away.

Or if you're really ambitious, you can do all three in one day like me!

Sigh.

Falling in Place

So I got my car back (it's been in the shop the last 4 days w/an oil leak- busted gasket or something).

I am officially being hired by the Car Rental Agency this month in time to qualify for compensation on my sales a month and a half ahead of schedule. (The other temps are being dropped.)

I met someone worth dating occasionally.

I've weaned myself off of most of my emotional dependencies.

I haven't cried in 5 days.

And I'm off to watch the second showing of Lost at my parents. Yes, my family is so obsessed that we all drive over to my parents every Wednesday to watch Lost. I don't get off work 'till 9 and one of my sisters has choir practice when it's actually on TV, though, so they record it the first time they watch it and then watch it a second time an hour later when we all arrive. A little over the top, I know. But damn is it satisfying. Gotta love them family traditions.

Anyways, I'm running late for that and it's a Wednesday night priority of mine, so I'm outta here.

but I just have to say:

Smart people who choose to be stupid suck even more than stupid people. At least you don't expect anything more from the stupid ones.

Stupid People Suck

So around 11:15pm I decide to go walk a few blocks down to a gas station to pick up a pack of smokes. It always amazes me how an encounter with complete strangers can go from "Hey baby" to "fuck you, cunt" in less than 10 seconds flat. I guess maybe walking around alone at night in my neighborhood isn't such a great idea after all.