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(November 9th, 2007. 11:56am.)
Quick update.
I'm surprised that people actually come to this place. In any case, the lack of updates are due to a number of things: the craziness of work, the demand school has put on me (three research-based classes, one of which I'm behind in - the important one of course - that have me stressed beyond imagination), a boy, and trying to sleep and/or breathe in between. No excuses, I know, I know.
Anyway, I just registered for my next semester classes and I'm already freaking out about them/my schedule. It is as follows:
Monday: Psychology of Creativity - 9am to 11:50am
Eighteen credit hours = nearly $900 over the regular tuition. I couldn't get it worked out any other way. I also had to work around a babysitting schedule (good money!) and to try and get in sufficient hours at Apple while not wanting to kill myself. Also, keeping Friday's open was never anything I had to do, but it's been good this semester for trips to Michigan and the likes.
Also, Jo, Andy and myself have started a mini-bookclub. Andy got first pick. He chose Henry Miller. This is going to be an intense, interesting thing. Feel free to read along and let me know if you do.
Hope everyone is well. :)
(October 4th, 2007. 11:52am.)
Updating from the Panera on campus.
The food was lackluster and my credit card was declined for the first time since I got it years ago. The Black Bean soup was watery and the apple was soft. Damn you, Panera.
In any case, I've been super busy with a new job. I quit Crate&Barrel; my last day is this coming Sunday. I'm sad to go (for the people) but I need to have a life outside of work and school. Lately, I haven't been sleeping much and I've been terrible with getting work done for classes. Somehow managing, but not so well. In any case, I've started working for Steve Jobs. For those that don't know, that means I am now a Mac Specialist at The Apple Store. Hurrah! A job I actually enjoy!
Just thought I'd check in. It's been a while, and it will probably be a while before my next. I get some interesting people there - both customers and employees.
How many people still come here? Probably a handful. I appreciate it nonetheless. I miss having time to update here.
Check out an Elvis impersonator that I helped at The Apple Store the other day. 'Twas amazing. But as for now I am off to class.
(September 22nd, 2007. 10:39pm.)
Oh em gee.
This is what happens when you get a job that let's you be creative. Thank you, Apple.
(September 21st, 2007. 12:10am.)
Straight from my journal - more about my dog.
Because I didn't want to write about it when it happened, but it's been two weeks and I feel the need. Maybe it's because I'm crying. Maybe it's because her ashes are in, sitting in a nice big tin on a cabinet in our kitchen. And my dad tells me, "Princess is home." The more I think about it, the sadder that makes me; she's back, but not the way I - or any of my family - want her to be. So here is her story, though told shortly, as twelve years is a long time.
I'm going to start with the basics. For my seventh Birthday, my mom finally caved and said I could get a dog. We went to the same pet store I had purchased my super amazing hamster, Bix, at the previous year. Yes, yes, I know pet stores are not the place to buy a puppy - puppy mills and the likes - but the handful of shelters we visited would not let a dog go home with a family that included children (my sister was four at the time). As well, breeders were out of the question - the cost and all of the horror stories turned my mom off to them. I was just a kid - I didn't know any better.
So we enter Jim's Pet World just outside of my hometown and head directly to the section with puppies. I had it in my head that I wanted a larger dog so we didn't really look at the smaller cages. I went to three different forest green bins filled with litters of puppies. One in particular caught my attention - it contained four or five puppies, all various patterns of black and white. The sign on the bin read "Lb/Border Collie Mutts" and stated that they already had their first batch of vacinations.
The majority of the litter were hyper - tails wagging, nipping at each other, trying to get attention and begging to be picked up and pet. However, there was one who laid in the corner, watching her brothers and sisters being all playful. She was small, but not really a runt, with a black face and back-coat, white nose, neck, underbelly and tail tip. Her legs were white with black speckles. I knew I wanted her.
We took her home that day. As I sat in the backseat of my mom's dark green Mitsubishi Diamonte, the trembling puppy on my lap - sitting on top of a pillow - I named her what any seven-year-old girl would: Princess. Although I regretted it not long after, as she deserved a much better name and I outgrew that fairytale phase quickly, I never once regretted my decision at Jim's Pet World.
She was a fast learner and very well trained. She took a beating from various babies and children throughout her life and never on any occasion mistreated them back - even when my brother was born (she was five at this point and very used to not having a baby around).
Only twice did she ever bite anyone enough to break skin. Once, she felt threatened by the mother of my brother's friend, and out of what we decided was protection for Liam, bit her forehead when she bent down too low. The next time wasn't until that last day that we took her to the vet because I think she knew something wasn't right, and the veteranary assistant went into the car face-first to remove a dog that couldn't move it's limbs. Dumb decision.
Anyway, over the past year or so, she's been aging quite rapidly. Unfortunately, the Lab part of her was stronger than the Border Collie. so arthritis became an issue - by the end she was hardly able to move, let alone stand up. She had started falling down stairs. Then, on our annual trip home from Canada, she seemed to suffer some kind of attack in the car where her heart was pounding so hard that it looked as though it would come out of her chest.
My mom took her into the vet shortly after, where she was diagnosed with Congenitive Heart Failure and given pills to relax her muscles. But then she stopped eating so the vet said to give her people food (somethign we never, ever did) and wahtever she did eat, she'd throw up moments later. After three days of this, it hit me suddenly just how frail, old, and sick she really looked.
So when I got a call on my commute home from class that Thursday informing me to meet up with the rest of the family at the Animal Hospital, I wasn't surprised. When I get there and my family pulls in, my brother is sitting on my sisters lap in the backseat next to my dog who is wrapped in blankets and quilts, panting and shaking. My entire family was red-eyed or crying and I, always keeping thigns inside, just stood outside their car waiting for the vet assistants to come out with their carrying equipment.
This is when the second bite Princess ever took occurs. So they got a muzzle and made a second attempt - strapping her onto a blue carrier and bringing all of us into a backroom.
That's about the time that I lost it. I tried my hardest not to cry but it was impossible. My mom wanted everyone to leave the room, but with just a look she added as an afterthought about letting me stay. After all, I'm nineteen and she technically was my dog.
After seeing the whole process, though, I'm glad she made my siblings leave with my dad (who is afraid of needles). The vet came in and explained the procedure and what would happen. Then it began - my mom held my dog's face in her hands and the vet shaved a part of her back leg where she would inject the Anesthetic. What usually happens, she told us, is that once the needle is empty, the dog will fall asleep - they'll be in such a deep sleep that it's almost as though their heart forgets to beat. It's not painful - they don't even know what happened. But, she warned us, a lot of heart-problem dogs have a delayed reaction and then, even after they're gone, their eyes remain open and their body may gasp like it's trying to make the heart pump a final time. But she'll already be gone.
Just as she'd warned (not the ideal situation, of course, because nothing in life ever is the ideal situation), she slid the needle out after injecting all of the Anesthesia and Princess just stared at us, blinking and panting. So the vet goes, "This is normal. Her heart was pumping so poorly before that it will take a while to course through her veins." And just as she said that, almost as though she were drunk, Princess swayed and slumped to her side like she normally did when she was sleeping up against our family room couch. Her chest heaved once and then there was nothing and the vet took out her stethoscope and checked her heart, then announced that she had passed away. I cried like I'm trying not to do right now. I kept crying. And then her chest heaved twice more like we were told it might and I choked back the urge to throw up, then continued to cry for what would be the remaineder of the night.
My friend Cassie picked me up shortly after and we drove around talking. When I returned later that night, the lights in my family room were off and I didn't want to turn them on, so I found myself inching around the areas she would normally be sleeping, until I realized she wasn't in any of those places or anywhere in the house and never would be again.
It's taking some getting used to. It's weird how sometimes I'll think that I can hear her. My mom can't bring herself to throw out the food dishes or the dog bed.
Liam wants to take half of her ashes to our cottage in Canada. She loved that place. Everytime I think of doing that, I burst into tears. Not because I don't want to, but because it's all so depressing.
This is hopefully the last update I'll spend on her passing, and I'm sorry for the length. If you read it all, thank you. If you've lost any pet or anybody in your life, I'm sorry.
(September 6th, 2007. 6:45pm.)
To the best dog there ever was.
Today my family and I put my thirteen year old dog down. They waited until I got off the train and I met them at the Vet. She'd been diagnosed with Congenitive Heart Failure that caused high blood pressure (made her pass out) and a high liver count. She was barely moving or eating over the past week. She was definitely a fighter - the vet even said so.
My mom and I stayed in the room until the very end; my dad is afraid of needles and my siblings didn't have to witness what I did. But as she sunk down against my mom's arms without even flinching, I knew we'd made the right choice. I haven't cried so hard in months.
So here's to the memory of Princess, the best store-bought, lab and border collie mutt there ever was (and I'm not even kidding, she was an amazing fucking dog).
(August 22nd, 2007. 1:25pm.)
I am topically challenged.
And I really hate that. My updates here (though rare as of lately - ha) lack direction. It's like, BOOM, let me update about this, and then BOOM, moving on to this, and finally BOOOM, nothingness. Blog A.D.D. perhaps?
I have nothing exciting to update about, just though I should stop in and ramble. And I'm finding it difficult to discuss anything of importance other than the fact that I'm listening to all these old Brand New demo songs and I'm laughing. Also, school is right around the corner and I'm started to feel very anxious. Speech will be the very first class of the semester, every Wednesday morning. Kill me, please? Thanks in advance.
(July 28th, 2007. 10:54pm.)
Wow, two days in a row.
So I had a break-through today. No, not a break-down. A BREAK-THROUGH.
What, you might ask, has gotten me pumped up enough to update my blog two times in two days?! Maybe I wrote almost 4,500 words today! YES, YES I DID. And here is how!
I realized, very sadly in fact, that whenever I try and write lately, I come to about page four/five and the scene/chapter/whatever wraps itself up. This makes for very little writing, and very little action. I, thus, tried to find a way so that I wouldn't know just how much I'd written unless I checked. Thank god for the "View" option in Word, right? Right! Because I changed the view from "page" to "online" and Word set it up as WordPad or NotePad would do: one straight shot of white blankness. This way, I kept writing and writing and only checked the word count every so often. My goal was to write about 2,000 words. I ended up writing an entire chapter and the start of another. The entire chapter came to about 10.5 pages. That's DOUBLE what I've been doing lately. I repeat, DOUBLE.
It's amazing what a little tweaking can do for you. Granted, I wish I could get myself to write more than 10 pages in a single day, but alas. I still haven't learned to turn off my internet. And then I have friends. And also, I spent - at the very least - an hour reading.
I did, however, regret not going to Warped tour. If not for Alkaline Trio, then for The Matches, who I miss hardcore. Especially thanks to Beckster, talking to Shawn about me. The lack of my presence saddens me. But at least I did something more than sit around and mope, right? Right.
Anyway, I must celebrate by...reading some more. God, I'm lame.
OH, and I'm looking to move out. Anyone need an affordable roommate? Anyone, anyone?
(July 27th, 2007. 11:12pm.)
Why do you come here?
Life has been nothing but work, work, and more work as of lately. That and the desperation, the incessant need to get out of my house and be on my own. For those that were curious about my reaction to the newest Harry Potter book, I'll sum it up quickly so as not to bore you readers and/or launch into a full-on spoiler post: I absolutely loved every minute of it except for the epilogue, which was cheesy as all hell, but I also understand why it was done in the first place. I cried over a good two-hundred pages - both happy and sad tears - and I finished it at 11pm on Saturday night (I picked it up around 8:15am that same morning). If you would like to further discuss the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling, feel free to e-mail me (contact section, people).
School is looming just around the corner. It's scary - summer has seemed so long, but now that it's coming to an end and friends are leaving for their various campuses around the nation, I feel like I don't want it to ever end. Though, I do, because this summer has been less than exceptional. My two biggest goals have yet to be reached and I really don't want to close out the summer with two failures. One is to read as much as I can of this twenty-five book long list that I created the day before the HP7 release (two down) and to fill up my entire journal (I'm getting there...slowly). I'm alread concocting the obligatory end-of-summer, highly-sentimental update as I tend to do annually.
I've grown bored of the internet. Someone send me some fun links I can check out. I haven't come across many interesting sites lately - I feel so much more than just boring. My blog is lacking many things: consistency, readers, dedication, and most importantly - purpose.
(July 19th, 2007. 11:58pm.)
I know it's been a while: The HP post.
I could get into the reasons why I haven't been updating this entire month, but no one would want to hear about it. So let's just skip all of that and go right to the now. And the now, as it has been these past two weeks, is all about Harry Effing Potter.
For anyone who is sitting there rolling their eyes at this, what we can all safely deem as a rather "healthy" obsession (I'm looking at you, Cara), I'll be the first to admit that I'm well aware that I am one in a million who go all out when it comes to Harry & The Gang. It's very rad, however, that such a marvelous story could bring so many people together. Obviously, there are the haters (most of which, might I point out/stereotype, have not even read the books) and then there are the assholes that leak the endings of the books before they're released. Let me just pose this question: is it really worth it to leak the ending? What level of accomplishment can you honestly feel from that? I've been avoiding the internet since I heard that some idiot took digital pictures of every page of the book and put them online. Not only does it allow people to read the book early, but it allows jerks to go and ruin the ending for people who really give a shit. I hope whoever did that lost their job over it. Seriously.
In any case, my insanity ran a little far last week and I got carried away and ended up with the following:
Anyway, I'm hella excited for the seventh book. I've been counting down the days since... I can't even recall when. Tomorrow, Jo and I plan to go all-out. Both of us work a ten-to-five shift, but we plan on waking up early and purchasing polos for work that we'll iron-transfer-on the Hogwarts crest and the phrase, "Team Potter" in the well-known text. Most likely, we'll get in trouble for this, but most likely, I plan on quitting. Afterwards, Jo and I are going to go Harry Potter hopping. There are so many random events going on and we have no idea where exactly we'll end up. I've heard rumors about a few surrounding suburbs having some bookstore-related parties from nine until midnight. We'll probably go around and find the best. Also, I was considering going to the event Megan posted about in her blog (here) but I think Jo and my biggest fear right now is that someone, somewhere, at some point tomorrow is going to shout out the ending just to be that asshole and we've come so far this time (last time, I found out the ending of the sixth book about a week before it was released)!
Even if you're not a fan, I suggest seeing the new movie. Lamely, I've seen it three times since it was released (yes, before you roll your eyes again, I attended the screenings with different people each time) and I'm probably willing to see it again with anyone who asks. The effects are MAGNIFICENT. Seriously, if you go for nothing else, at least give it a shot for the graphics. I've also shed a tear each time. SHUT UP.
What it comes down to is this: I am a nerd and you won't be seeing me around here until I have finished the seventh and final (*sobs*) Harry Potter novel. I won't even get into theories because I will be here all night, and I must get up at a way-too-early hour in order to get my non-appropriate work attire created in time.
Team Potter!
(June 29th, 2007. 12:28pm.)
If I had $70 to spend monthly...
Today I had my first spa facial, a treat from my Aunt.
Let's talk about how amazing it is to lay on a comfortable table and have someone massage your hands, arms, shoulders, neck, and head while you have a mask on your face, cotton-things on your eyes, and this really amazing CD on by someone whose name escapes me but sounds something like Melissa Ethridge. Talking of Chicago, of writing, of reading, all the while being pampered? I'm not one to do these kinds of things, but who am I to pass up an offer like that? I don't even like getting my nails done at a salon.
Now I am enjoying some orange and vanilla sherbet, getting fatter as the days go by. I'm going to go enjoy the final hundred pages of Lolita, do some more sudoku, and try not to melt away in this heat.
(June 26th, 2007. 12:28pm.)
100 degrees and...dropping.
So I'm in Colorado. My Aunt Karen is upstairs getting some work done on her desktop so I took over her laptop, checked in on the old facebook/myspace/yahoo/postsecret/cyanide and happiness/etc. and found myself here because where else could I go? The weather, from the moment I stepped off the plane, has been between 95 and 100 degrees and my Aunt has no air conditioning. I've been trying not to complain but I'm one of those "cold with a blanket" kind of people. Though, sleeping has been really great - I wonder if it's the air? My face is a mess from the heat and the air - dry and broken out; yay!
So let's talk about the trip here. I roll out of bed at 3:55am on Sunday, race around to get all of my last things together (the necessities, you know? Such as your phone and its charger, your iPod and its charger, your electronic Sudoku game that doesn't work anymore anyway though you try) and jump in the car with my Diet Rockstar, my sister in the backseat with her blanket and my hoodie and looking like the stereotypical emo kid, and my dad at the wheel. For only getting a handful of hours of sleep, he was in a rather good mood. But holy drunk drivers on the road at four in the morning - cars swerving full lanes over, windows rolled down and drivers hanging out, trying to stay awake, trying to sober up. I was more worried about GETTING to the airport than actually FLYING.
Once I got to the airport - Midway, which I've never been to prior to this trip - it took about ten minutes to get to my gate, so I sat and read the rest of the third Harry Potter book. Now I'm working through the fourth and also Lolita, though it's a much slower read for me for obvious reasons. I want another Ellis book.
So anyway, the heat was really getting to me, what with this no AC thing. Basically all I've been doing is sleeping, eating, and reading. The air is messing with my eyes and my throat so it's hard not to fall asleep while reading. Also, despite my success on Weight Watchers (-14!), it's nice to not have to worry about dieting necessarily.
Plus, being with my Aunt isn't half bad. She's an amazing woman. A lot of things have been put into perspective, or at least make more sense, and it's only been two and a half days. I do, however, miss all of my friends and Chicago and hope to get home at a relatively decent time on the 4th of July. I'd like to actually GO somewhere and do something fun this year.
Enjoy your AC if you have it!
(June 23rd, 2007. 9:47pm.)
Going out West/Emo post.
I'm flying out to Colorado tomorrow to see my Aunt. I'm not packed, I'm not ready to go, and as much as I want to see her and see the mountains for the first time in my life, a large part of me just has no motivation to do anything with myself anymore. I won't even get into it, it's not worth dwelling on, but at the same time I'm just praying that the time away from Chicago will give me some perspective, let things blow over, have a fresh start when I return. It's only a handful of days and most of those will be spent pretty relaxed, which equals downtime, which equals thinking and overthinking.
And why does it always seem so necessary to have OTHER people tell me that I'm great, that I'm worth it? Why can't telling myself be enough?
All the possibilities... well, I was wrong.
See you guys Thursday at the earliest.
(June 17th, 2007. 19:47pm.)
Sundays are always the longest days.
In one week, I will be in Colorado. Thank god.
Work is always interesting, between the gossip and the stories and the various personalities of the employees. That's a given. But it's days like today that make you wish life could always be that much more interesting. It's a rare occurance that several strange things happen in a day, but just take a look at this:
Sexy Lady. So this very elderly woman, with poofy hair dyed the color of a sunset, seated herself at one of the desks in the middle of our store today. Her daughter, or whoever it may have been that brought her along and then dumped her at our store while continuing to shop for herself, was nowhere to be found for the two or so hours that followed. However, this old woman was the talk of the store for the entirety of the hours. Not only was she just perched there, sunk over the desk, sticking out like a sore thumb, but she was reading. And not just anything, but a book about sex. One that sported the words, "OVERSEXED MEN" in big, bold letters, complete with a diagram of a penis, etc. Before I even saw her - probably an hour into her rest - I heard about her presence no matter where I was. In the stock room at one end, again by the elevator, at the back door, and at each counter. Everyone knew she was there and I stood at the end of the store and watched as my co-workers passed behind her, glancing secretly over her shoulder to get their own view of her choice of literature. Later, as she descended the escalator from furniture (there was a big uproar throughout the houseware floor when she was no longer seated at the desk), a co-worker turned to me (Chris! I'm totally not calling you out) was like, "Oh, here she comes!" I had to respond with, "Looks like a sex maniac to me, for sure."
Heat Stroke. Our furniture floor has an outdoor patio where they feature outdoor furniture (uh, duh) and customers are allowed to go out and browse. It's not huge, but it's convenient and it overlooks the mall and overall is pretty neat. Yes, I just said neat. Anyway, this kid Matt who worked at my job over Christmas seasonally came in to have lunch with his friend Eric, who still works there. I went down to get Eric from the stockroom and when we surfaced, Matt and his friend told Eric he had to go upstairs. When Eric came back down, I found out that some guy had wandered upstairs and fell asleep on one of the lounges on the patio. No one bothered to wake him up. I wonder how long it was before someone from furniture took notice and awoke the dude from his slumber. Jo was worried he was going to get heat stroke. GLASS HALF EMPTY GIRL!
Grandma. So this lady comes in from the mall (let me address the fact that there were more elderly folks in Crate today than usual because this weekend was the car show so...somehow that makes sense, I guess) and I was at the counter right at the mall enterance. She saunters up to me in her gigantic sunhat, scarf, sunglasses and cocks her head to the side, pondering. Then she goes, "Do you sell highchairs?" I look around the store like maybe she's joking and then I say, "No, no we don't. But maybe you could try Land of Nod?" And I point her kindly in the direction of Land of Nod, the children's store connected to Crate. She uncocks her head, lowers her glasses down the bridge of her nose, revealing rows of wrinkles around her eyes and she glares at me. Then she goes, "Do you think I didn't look there?" Then she makes this awful noise with her throat and stalks away. It took me a good thirty seconds to recover and even less time to walk up to Chris and bitch about the inconsiderate customers we get and why the fuck would Crate sell highchairs?
The Why Don't Yous. Okay, it's summer time. That means that within the next month, our entire store will switch over to fall season. Hence, the Summer Sale. Good prices galore! But that also means that we're running out of quantities VERY quickly. And 75% of the time, customers are approaching with gift registries for weddings and showers and getting pissed when something marked "LIMITED QUANTITY" is in fact DISCONTINUED and/or SOLD OUT. Oh my fucking god, people! We are not miracle workers. We do not order the quantities. We work with what we're given. Nine out of ten people will get extremely pissed off at us, the sales people, because we are out of whatever it is they wanted. Hello, sorry, I'm really starting to not give a fuck that the Tiki Torch candlestick you wanted is all out. You should have bought it when you wanted it last month. Kthnx.
YOU SUCK! We have this new floor manager that just transferred into our store from another one in the area. She's really nice and stuff, one of those bubbly people that do well in retail. (Do you like how I say that as though I'm not cut out for this job? Well that's because I'm not. I hate people. Oh, and I've been sitting here considering whether writing all of this could get me in trouble, and really, I don't care. I already break a million rules at that place, like show my tattoo and wear my nose stud and not follow dress code and not give a fuck.) Anyway, it's not really legal to take pictures in our store. We pay to have designers come in and make our store look the way it is, so taking pictures isn't allowed. Well, this one dude was taking pictures of something and our new FM was walking by with a customer she was in the process of helping and said politely, "Sir, you can't take pictures in here, I'm sorry." She continued walking towards her destination, most likely showing someone where a certain product was, and the guy verbally attacked her. He claimed she was bad at customer service because she didn't even ask what he was taking pictures for, yadda yadda. If I was there, I'd have a hard time biting my tongue and not saying, "LOOK, BUDDY. It doesn't matter whether you're taking pictures to frame, pictures to steal our design, or pictures to show your fucking pet GOLDFISH. You're not allowed, okay?" And then Kayleigh'd get fired. She was almost in tears about it. Fucking people.
(June 15th, 2007. 11:51pm.)
I hate UPS.
So let's talk about how I kind of have this on-going inside joke with Jo about hating UPS, and then about how I backed into a UPS truck yesterday. That's right. My first accident ever recorded since I was issued my license, and how do I waste it? I waste it by pulling out of a 7-11 parking lot, paying more attention to not hitting either of the cars on my sides thanks to the conveniently tight parking spaces, and fucking up my back, driver's side bumper going three miles an hour. There was no scratch on the UPS truck, of course, but its paint transferred onto my bumper and chipped the paint off mine, etc. I was an hour late to work. I had just bought a Rockstar that I no longer needed because my nerves were shot. The guy I hit was actually really great about the whole mistake even though I felt like that stereotypical teenage female driver. He was laughing about how he gets overtime for things like this and would I like something to drink from the 7-11? I just stared at him like, "Dude, I just hit you."
I had my friend Matthew take a look at it because his day job is a car mechanic and he works part time at Crate, too, which is how I know him. He said it's not bad. It still sucks that all of those extra hours I put in these past two weeks will probably go towards fixing the damn car. Such a stupid accident. Almost as stupid as the time where, when I had my permit, I was backing our Dodge Durango (I miss you) out of the driveway (okay, I think I'm cursed when it comes to Dodges) and I hit a patch of ice and backed into our fence, pulling the bumper right off. Oops. But they're called accidents for a reason, I guess.
Work was a mess afterwards, too. I was still shaken and people were horrible and I wanted to kill half of them. I made a few stupid mistakes and at one point almost started crying which has only happened maybe once before. I've thrown angry fits, sure, but it takes a lot to make me cry at that hell-hole.
Also, off-topic, I had to mention that tonight is Relay For Life and my neighbor/friend/practically sister made one of those bag-lantern things in memory of my cousin Jodi. She took camera-phone pictures and text them to me when the bags were lit. It was the most thoughtful thing that anyone has done for myself/my family in a long time and it makes me happy to call her my friend. Thank you, Jori!
Anyway, I just finished watching Pan's Labyrinth with my sister and I think it's a really great movie that I recommend everyone checks out. If you're up for reading subtitles, that is. Also, I just picked up the new Paramore CD and am highly impressed. I wish I was a rock chick. Hells yeah.
Lastly, I finished The Informers and am almost done with Animal Farm but I keep starting new books before I finish other ones. Bad habit. I really want to get through my entire reading list this summer, but I'm just so damn tired all the time. I slept in until 12:30 today and still, by nine at night I was ready to go to bed. Make it stopppp.
(June 12th, 2007. 11:05pm.)
It's been a while...
My mom was just talking to me about money, money, money. It all went over my head. I'm not ready to be an adult. I don't think I'll ever be ready to be an adult.
I haven't updated in a long time, I know. Life has been a rollercoaster of shit on top of shit. I've been happier than ever, but it comes with a small price because the happiness comes and goes. The same things that make me happy also make my heart hurt sometimes and so I've just been too manic to settle down and update this little blog that no one reads anyway. But I don't know, hopefully I'll start hanging around more often, though my summer looks really busy.
I've been working a lot. I'm glad I didn't get a second job because I can't say no to people and I keep picking up extra shifts. Last week I worked about thirty hours, only twenty of which were scheduled as mine. This week I'm working two full shifts that weren't mine to begin with. Aka, a ten hour shift on Sunday, a six hour shift on Monday, a four(ish) hour shift tonight, a six(ish) hour shift tomorrow, and a four(ish) hour shift Thursday. This is me running around, flailing my arms, and drooling at the idea of the paycheck I will eventually get because of this. Hurrah!
Today, in just this very moment, I am obsessed with the Modest Mouse song "Black Cadillacs." I don't know why. It randomly came into my head and I've listened to it on repeat a handful of times.
Oh, so here's how the summer breaks down vacation/trip wise:
Which reminds me, my uncle friended me on facebook. Uh, weird? I love it. Lmfao. I saw the name and the birthday before I accepted the request and I was like, "Why does this sound so familiar?" Once we were friends, I noticed the email address and was like HOLY CRAP THAT IS MY UNCLE! *flails* I keep forgetting to tell my mom about that.
I'm currently reading Lolita, The Informers, and Animal Farm. I have to admit, though, that with life getting in the way, I haven't been reading nearly as much as I need to. I need to start reading at least an hour a day. I'm just always so exhausted that I pick up a book, get a couple pages, and fall asleep.
I love summer and friends and bon fires and driving and music and broken hearts.