I can't believe I still haven't told you guys about my awesome exchange with my landlord regarding fixing our GD toilet and bathroom sink. It's best if it's brief. He said he'd stop by last Wednesday, which was cool cause I didn't have anywhere to be until 2. He never showed up, never called. I assumed we'd just end up having to call a guy. Thursday while I'm at work, before we open, my phone rings. It's him. He was like, are you home? I said no. He said he was going to stop by anyway and just put the dog in our room while he was working. No, landlord I am not at home. Because you were supposed to stop by on Wednesday like we agreed. Not Thursday. Whatever. At least he was fixing stuff.
Later I get a voicemail from him that says lots of fun stuff. 'I have to have someone come out to take a look at the sink, we'll be there about 11 tomorrow, it's a bigger problem than I thought. If you're not home we'll just put the dog in the bedroom again. And I put all the parts back in the toilet. Alright bye.'
He put all the parts back in.
That's how he fixed our toilet.
He put all the parts back in.
When I told Jeremy about it he said the same thing I said when I first heard that sentence: were there parts missing? Could we have fixed this ourselves if we had only known where he was storing the parts?
It still makes me laugh.
That same day at work (the super slow day) I took a few brain tests to determine whether I'm right or left brain dominant. I took four actually, and these results are no joke. The first test, of 22 questions I answered with a left brain dominance 11 times. That's right. I broke even. Second test I answered primarily with the right side. Third test I answered primarily left. Fourth test? I broke even again. From four different sites. Basically online tests are bullshit. That or I sometimes use both sides and sometimes use one side more than the other. Like a normal human being!
I stumbled across a set of lines I wrote in a notebook back in January, I know because I haven't used that notebook since then. These lines were effin' prolific to me. No frontin'. They were like a damn fairy tale. And I had no recollection of ever thinking of them, or writing them. But I was flipping through the notebook and there they were, in my tiny tight and careless scrawl. They moved me. (So obviously I knew they weren't my own.) The third line I knew for a fact was from a Tom Waits song, but I couldn't figure out where the other ones came from. Even Google gave me confused results. Eventually I managed to hunt down a second line that I paraphrased from a Christina Perri song. Which led to the assumption that the other two were from songs. I was right. Sort of. I paraphrased Ellie Goulding in one and the last line I can't track down. I've been rifling through my library trying to find where I may have heard something either exact or similar since I seem to have used parts of lyrics to make my own lines. Anyway here it is.
fever in my bones
dancing in an empty room
never be free of me
follow the path of the dead
I keep getting different imagery when I read it or say it, so I'm not even sure what I may have been trying to say. It reads like blackout poetry, except with lyrics. (Which are a form of poetry.) If anyone knows where I may have gotten the last line from it would be super awesome if you could let me know. It's driving me bonkers not knowing.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Pills, Work, Words, Iceman
Every morning I go through the arduous task of trying to swallow my birth control pill. From the time I put it in my mouth, to the time I actually manage to swallow it, always differs. This morning it was only like, fifteen seconds. Yesterday morning it took me almost a full minute. I don't have the easiest time taking pills but I really didn't think a pill this tiny would be so difficult.
I have to have liquid in my mouth before I can put any kind of pill in it, cause I'm insane and I imagine that if I put the pill in first it'll just sit on my tongue like so much dead weight and no matter how much I drink it'll never move until it dissolves and then I'll be stuck with that awful taste. So I take a drink first and then imagine the pill is just floating around in the there trying to find the back of my throat cause it wants to go home. (In this analogy, home is heaven and the back of my throat is the guiding light. It's fucked up, I know.)
Sometimes I have to take a second drink cause I've managed to swallow all of the first sip without taking the pill so it's just sitting there drying out and making me feel sick. Sometimes I use a really cold beverage and by the time I manage to get the stupid pill down that sip can be best described as lukewarm. (Occasionally, hot. Gross.) Sometimes it gets stuck between my back molars and the inside of my cheek, that happened three consecutive mornings last week. I was angry. Once I thought I had taken it, but it turns out it started to dissolve and had reached the point where when it was trapped between my molar and mouth, it was so tiny that I didn't even notice I hadn't actually swallowed it.
Sometimes I can take the pill with just a handful of water from the bathroom sink. If you've never taken a handful of water from a faucet before, what have you been doing with your entire life? I bet you also use an actual cup to rinse your mouth after brushing your teeth. You pretentious ponce. It's not a whole bunch of water, in that handful, is the point I was trying to get at. I used to take a super tiny pill with basically the equivalent amount of water, and it was no trouble. I did it just last Sunday. Why is my mouth-throat-water-pill-situation never the same?
Those are just the issues with the birth control. I take vitamins too. Half of them I chew. They're not chewables. I have some issues with swallowing small objects. Which... I guess is... good? At least I know I'll never be inclined to eat like, Legos, (Lego's?) or something. (At 25. When the pallet finds Legos most delectable.)
A couple days ago at work some broad asked me to help her retrieve a password that had been sent to her email. I saw it was a yahoo address, I directed her to the yahoo website. She said, do I type it in here? and gestured to some random point on screen. I corrected her and prepared myself for the absurdity that I knew was forthcoming. We go through her logging in process and it says the username and password is incorrect. I asked her to try typing in the password again and she says, I don't remember it. I ask if she was trying to tell me that the password she was trying to get was for her email. She says no and gestures wildly to some lottery scratch-off cards she has in front of her, eventually explaining (I made a lot of helpful guesses in this game of 'guess what this string of mumbles and murmurs means'.) that she had entered an email address on this website and that they had sent a password to this email for her to use on the same website. Or some such nonsense.
Long story short (too late): she didn't even have an email address. She had made one up for the purpose of that website, and if that email already existed then she's out of luck because somebody else has the password she was looking for.
The other day, while killing time at the slowest branch at work, I found one of the loveliest definitions to an already lovely word.
suspire:
I love the word 'wherein.' I think it's so magical. It sounds like an adventure awaits, and not just any adventure. This particular adventure has sword fights, and eye patches, and a rambling old fool who turns out to be the rightful lord of the land, and a damsel who for once isn't in any distress. Speaking of which, one of my favorite things ever in film is the scene in Enchanted when Giselle slays the dragon, because I'm bored of women always finding themselves in trouble and then having to wait for a white knight to save them. Save yourself, for god sake. You're better than that.
I have to have liquid in my mouth before I can put any kind of pill in it, cause I'm insane and I imagine that if I put the pill in first it'll just sit on my tongue like so much dead weight and no matter how much I drink it'll never move until it dissolves and then I'll be stuck with that awful taste. So I take a drink first and then imagine the pill is just floating around in the there trying to find the back of my throat cause it wants to go home. (In this analogy, home is heaven and the back of my throat is the guiding light. It's fucked up, I know.)
Sometimes I have to take a second drink cause I've managed to swallow all of the first sip without taking the pill so it's just sitting there drying out and making me feel sick. Sometimes I use a really cold beverage and by the time I manage to get the stupid pill down that sip can be best described as lukewarm. (Occasionally, hot. Gross.) Sometimes it gets stuck between my back molars and the inside of my cheek, that happened three consecutive mornings last week. I was angry. Once I thought I had taken it, but it turns out it started to dissolve and had reached the point where when it was trapped between my molar and mouth, it was so tiny that I didn't even notice I hadn't actually swallowed it.
Sometimes I can take the pill with just a handful of water from the bathroom sink. If you've never taken a handful of water from a faucet before, what have you been doing with your entire life? I bet you also use an actual cup to rinse your mouth after brushing your teeth. You pretentious ponce. It's not a whole bunch of water, in that handful, is the point I was trying to get at. I used to take a super tiny pill with basically the equivalent amount of water, and it was no trouble. I did it just last Sunday. Why is my mouth-throat-water-pill-situation never the same?
Those are just the issues with the birth control. I take vitamins too. Half of them I chew. They're not chewables. I have some issues with swallowing small objects. Which... I guess is... good? At least I know I'll never be inclined to eat like, Legos, (Lego's?) or something. (At 25. When the pallet finds Legos most delectable.)
A couple days ago at work some broad asked me to help her retrieve a password that had been sent to her email. I saw it was a yahoo address, I directed her to the yahoo website. She said, do I type it in here? and gestured to some random point on screen. I corrected her and prepared myself for the absurdity that I knew was forthcoming. We go through her logging in process and it says the username and password is incorrect. I asked her to try typing in the password again and she says, I don't remember it. I ask if she was trying to tell me that the password she was trying to get was for her email. She says no and gestures wildly to some lottery scratch-off cards she has in front of her, eventually explaining (I made a lot of helpful guesses in this game of 'guess what this string of mumbles and murmurs means'.) that she had entered an email address on this website and that they had sent a password to this email for her to use on the same website. Or some such nonsense.
Long story short (too late): she didn't even have an email address. She had made one up for the purpose of that website, and if that email already existed then she's out of luck because somebody else has the password she was looking for.
The other day, while killing time at the slowest branch at work, I found one of the loveliest definitions to an already lovely word.
suspire:
- to breathe
- to sigh
"And from that one intake of fire/ All creatures still warmly suspire" - Robert Frost
(Thank you Free Dictionary.)
(Thank you Free Dictionary.)
I love the word 'wherein.' I think it's so magical. It sounds like an adventure awaits, and not just any adventure. This particular adventure has sword fights, and eye patches, and a rambling old fool who turns out to be the rightful lord of the land, and a damsel who for once isn't in any distress. Speaking of which, one of my favorite things ever in film is the scene in Enchanted when Giselle slays the dragon, because I'm bored of women always finding themselves in trouble and then having to wait for a white knight to save them. Save yourself, for god sake. You're better than that.
This brings me to another point, RE The Following. Can anyone tell me why every female character, even the FBI agent whose name I don't remember because that's how much of an impression her character has made on me, is either a victim or a psycho? Also, I don't honestly care about Joe Carroll. I want to know what's up with Harper, and I want to know what's up with Bobby Drake. I want detailed back stories and I want them now. Bobby Drake is having some issues right now, everyone knows that. Why is it that when he lashes out in an unconventional interrogation Harper's all, what's up with you man? Are you kidding me, Harper? That dude was forced into a Fight Club because he knew where your lady love was and they practically killed him when he wouldn't say. He is going through some shit right now, Harper. He needs time to process and talk to a therapist.
To be fair, I honestly have no idea how much time has passed on this show so maybe he did have sufficient time off to deal with his problems and he just didn't? I don't know. What I do know is that the writers are making me angry and I'm only continuing to watch cause of that reveal at the end of the last episode that made me go, oh-HO SNAP RYAN HARPER you're hardcore! Also, I would have sex with Bobby Drake.
Alright that's it.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Conversation I Recently Had
Me (on the phone): Oh no that's awful. Yeah happy to help.
Mom: Did someone die?
Me: Yeah some broad at work, her granddad passed away recently so I'm picking up her shift Friday.
Mom: Oh that's terrible.
Me: He was like ninety and had been dying for like, a year.
Mom: That's still sad though.
Me: I mean yeah, but after that long aren't you kinda relieved that it's finally done with. And aren't you a little pissed that they've taken so long? It's been a year, come on now.
Mom (laughs, maybe uncomfortably at first): I guess so yeah. Your grandma seemed to drag it out near the end there.
I'm a terrible person. I also paraphrased mom a little there on that last line, but I can vouch that it did seem to take her mom forever to die. I feel like I grew up in that hospital while that woman was slowly but surely kicking the bucket.
Mom: Did someone die?
Me: Yeah some broad at work, her granddad passed away recently so I'm picking up her shift Friday.
Mom: Oh that's terrible.
Me: He was like ninety and had been dying for like, a year.
Mom: That's still sad though.
Me: I mean yeah, but after that long aren't you kinda relieved that it's finally done with. And aren't you a little pissed that they've taken so long? It's been a year, come on now.
Mom (laughs, maybe uncomfortably at first): I guess so yeah. Your grandma seemed to drag it out near the end there.
I'm a terrible person. I also paraphrased mom a little there on that last line, but I can vouch that it did seem to take her mom forever to die. I feel like I grew up in that hospital while that woman was slowly but surely kicking the bucket.
Untitled Post
While putting off emailing a supervisor a set of goals and objectives to reach said goals, I started browsing the internet and got distracted by THE WORLD, as I often do. I kept telling myself I was waiting for Jeremy to proof-read it before I sent it, but really I just don't want to send it. Having a job where I have to set goals for myself is irritating. Especially because they aren't goals to improve my job performance, or advance my position. I'm already excelling in the performance area, and I can't advance my position until the people hired before me either advance their own or decide they don't want to. I'm dependent on them. I don't like it. They're personal goals, to I guess help me enjoy my work day? I made stuff up that sounded like what they would want to hear.
In more important news, I definitely don't like my job. I told my brother that and he said, 'I could've told you that.' So uh... why didn't you? I keep that maybe if I were in a different unit I would enjoy it but I can't really say for sure that what I don't like can be narrowed down to a specific thing like that. There's a lot I don't like, and not much I do. When I was discussing this with my aunt about a month ago the things I did like outweighed the things I didn't and we decided that while it wasn't perfect it was still better than having a job and disliking the majority of it. I've reached the point where I dislike the majority of it.
Jeremy and I were talking about our mutual dislike of our current means of employment and I was saying how I need a job where I don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to, that allows me to be creative and challenges me, affords us the kind of vacation time we want (a week off without having to schedule months in advance, or even just a weekend off without having to schedule a month in advance and still not be totally sure that I'll get it), and also affords our expensive taste. Or even moderate taste. Comfortable living, really, is what we're aiming for right now.
I said, I need something...
Jeremy said, write.
Except for some reason I heard that word as, right.
I think both words apply.
Until then, I guess I just have to pretend I like my job and hope that eventually it'll come back to me and I won't be pretending anymore. And also keep writing. Always always writing.
In more important news, I definitely don't like my job. I told my brother that and he said, 'I could've told you that.' So uh... why didn't you? I keep that maybe if I were in a different unit I would enjoy it but I can't really say for sure that what I don't like can be narrowed down to a specific thing like that. There's a lot I don't like, and not much I do. When I was discussing this with my aunt about a month ago the things I did like outweighed the things I didn't and we decided that while it wasn't perfect it was still better than having a job and disliking the majority of it. I've reached the point where I dislike the majority of it.
Jeremy and I were talking about our mutual dislike of our current means of employment and I was saying how I need a job where I don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to, that allows me to be creative and challenges me, affords us the kind of vacation time we want (a week off without having to schedule months in advance, or even just a weekend off without having to schedule a month in advance and still not be totally sure that I'll get it), and also affords our expensive taste. Or even moderate taste. Comfortable living, really, is what we're aiming for right now.
I said, I need something...
Jeremy said, write.
Except for some reason I heard that word as, right.
I think both words apply.
Until then, I guess I just have to pretend I like my job and hope that eventually it'll come back to me and I won't be pretending anymore. And also keep writing. Always always writing.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Teavana!
Yesterday I took my first foray into Teavana. I can easily see blowing an entire paycheck in that store, and not just because some of the tea is very pricey. $12 for 2 ounces? Come on son. No, I mean because the moment I walked in that store I wanted to buy everything I saw. Tea sets, more than I could ever need, all the tea, I mean ALL the tea, even the floral ones that I don't even really like cause they always taste like I'm eating a flower, I would buy them all. I have no logical explanation for this response, but it exists. Maybe they put something in the air in the store that just makes a general tea drinker want to buy more tea than one human could possibly need.
We went in with Scotty and Ashley, and we were sampling some teas and the girl asked if we were tea drinkers and all three of them pointed to me. I got out of there with one tin (the smaller of the two) of Earl Grey Cream, and it didn't even make my wallet cry. Scotty, as Ashley pointed out, did not come away so well. The amount of money that kid spent on tea, a thing that you will literally piss away, made me hate him a little bit.
I said it.
Turns out, I bookmarked the Teavana website like, two years ago, and have not purchased a single thing from it. Probably cause it seemed crazy expensive. The problem now is that after being in there and trying the teas, I want to buy more. The page is open in the next tab in my browser. I just have to click over and boom! All my money, gone.
I really love tea, you guys. Like, really love it. It's one of my favorite things in the known world. Did I tell you about my plans to open a book-and-tea shop? We won't sell coffee, because I damn well said so, but we'll sell new and used books, and teas. I have the perfect name for it, and even if I had told you about this, when you read the name you still have to be impressed by it. Because it is so cute and clever!
The Novelty Shop (trademark Storm Michele)
I mean... what a great name. If someone already has this, I'm burning their building to the ground and then finding all documents pertaining to it and also setting those on fire. This is my book-and-tea shop.
Also this weekend, I helped Scotty assemble a dresser for his unborn tiny baby and saw some koi fish because my brother has a koi fish pond. And way too many fish in it. There's like, a bunch. He'll have to kill some apparently, because there's only supposed to be so many and if unattended they'll just keep reproducing until there's more fish than water in the pond. I mean, I imagine that's what would happen.
We went in with Scotty and Ashley, and we were sampling some teas and the girl asked if we were tea drinkers and all three of them pointed to me. I got out of there with one tin (the smaller of the two) of Earl Grey Cream, and it didn't even make my wallet cry. Scotty, as Ashley pointed out, did not come away so well. The amount of money that kid spent on tea, a thing that you will literally piss away, made me hate him a little bit.
I said it.
Turns out, I bookmarked the Teavana website like, two years ago, and have not purchased a single thing from it. Probably cause it seemed crazy expensive. The problem now is that after being in there and trying the teas, I want to buy more. The page is open in the next tab in my browser. I just have to click over and boom! All my money, gone.
I really love tea, you guys. Like, really love it. It's one of my favorite things in the known world. Did I tell you about my plans to open a book-and-tea shop? We won't sell coffee, because I damn well said so, but we'll sell new and used books, and teas. I have the perfect name for it, and even if I had told you about this, when you read the name you still have to be impressed by it. Because it is so cute and clever!
The Novelty Shop (trademark Storm Michele)
I mean... what a great name. If someone already has this, I'm burning their building to the ground and then finding all documents pertaining to it and also setting those on fire. This is my book-and-tea shop.
Also this weekend, I helped Scotty assemble a dresser for his unborn tiny baby and saw some koi fish because my brother has a koi fish pond. And way too many fish in it. There's like, a bunch. He'll have to kill some apparently, because there's only supposed to be so many and if unattended they'll just keep reproducing until there's more fish than water in the pond. I mean, I imagine that's what would happen.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Briefly
People who talk to themselves aggressively about the situation around them while occasionally making eye contact with others are clearly just hoping someone will say something so they have a reason to start a fight. That's stupid. Just start a fight.
I don't know why I ever imagine shopping will be a hassle free, semi relaxing experience, but I always manage to fool myself into that mindset. Then I find myself in the store, trying to navigate my cart through idiot human being after idiot human being and becoming more and more enraged. They stop in the middle of an aisle, they weave back and forth slowly in front of you like they know you're trying to move past them but they'll be damned if they'll let you because god forbid you should get to the celery before them. I hate them. They let their children roam about aimlessly, always finding their way directly in front of your cart and always finding themselves suddenly stricken deaf so that you have to say 'excuse me can I pass' so loudly that no one believes you sincerely wish to be excused. You're right, terrible absent-minded parent, I don't wish to be excused. I wish to get my friggin' green tea and move on to the next item on my list.
No really. I hate them.
The sign that has hours and whatnot listen behind the circulation desk at the library has one particular note that needs to be shared.
Sorry-
We do not accept foreign currency, including Canadia coins.
My browser underlined the word that you probably think (correctly) is spelled inaccurately, and I noticed it. I would've corrected it, except I want to drive home the point that while I certainly saw the error, because at a glance the wavy red line under the word drew my attention, this sign went past numerous people and various printers, AND NOBODY NOTICED.
It's a big sign too, you guys. Like, sideways poster size. Large. Obvious. Why has nobody fixed this?
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Kindness
Twice now I've seen the same girl leave the teen room of the library crying uncontrollably, in the same week. A librarian goes in and talks to the kids still in there, then one or two might be asked to leave, but that's the most action I've seen taken. The girl is almost impossible to understand, but basically she's being verbally bullied in that room but it seems like nothing is really being done about it. Sometimes she dresses provocatively, high heels, fitted clothes, yesterday it was a low cut top. She dresses the way young girls think boys like because boys respond to older women who dress like that. But they just make fun of the girls who do it. And she keeps coming back, that's the awful part. It's like she's hoping a different set of heels or a tighter article of clothing will make these boys like her. It's worrying. I watched a librarian speak to the boys, the walls are glass so I can see the conversation but I can't hear it, and one of the boys actually stopped another from speaking and stood in front of him, like he was protecting him. From what? Being told it's never acceptable to bully someone? Because it isn't and you can't hide from that reality. After everything cooled down I took a moment to reflect and it actually made me feel physically ill.
Why do young women hate their bodies so much? What other reason would we have for putting so much of ourselves on display, even when we're mocked and ridiculed for it, if not because we don't like ourselves and we need validation? If not to have someone notice us, even if it's negatively. At twenty-five, with a husband and best friend who loves me, with friends and family who love me, literally exactly the way I am, why do I still hate my body so much? What does it say about us as a society that an intelligent, funny, fairly well-balanced, caring individual still thinks she's not exceptional because her dress size has two numbers in it?
Some honesty (what else?): Sometimes I like hanging out with my heavier friends cause they make me feel thinner. Sometimes I don't like hanging out with my thin friends cause they make me feel huge. (Like, behemoth huge.) That's sick, I know. It's also totally true. My friends are great, I should want to hang out with them based on that. Not based on if they make me look better, or worse, by comparison. Another example of 'I'm a terrible person.'
Back to the important part: be kind to others and be kind to yourself. The really important part though, in my self-centered opinion, is be kind to yourself. Even when others aren't kind to you. Everything else will stem from there, at least that's what I find. When I'm nice to myself, I'm more inclined to be nice to others.
Why do young women hate their bodies so much? What other reason would we have for putting so much of ourselves on display, even when we're mocked and ridiculed for it, if not because we don't like ourselves and we need validation? If not to have someone notice us, even if it's negatively. At twenty-five, with a husband and best friend who loves me, with friends and family who love me, literally exactly the way I am, why do I still hate my body so much? What does it say about us as a society that an intelligent, funny, fairly well-balanced, caring individual still thinks she's not exceptional because her dress size has two numbers in it?
Some honesty (what else?): Sometimes I like hanging out with my heavier friends cause they make me feel thinner. Sometimes I don't like hanging out with my thin friends cause they make me feel huge. (Like, behemoth huge.) That's sick, I know. It's also totally true. My friends are great, I should want to hang out with them based on that. Not based on if they make me look better, or worse, by comparison. Another example of 'I'm a terrible person.'
Back to the important part: be kind to others and be kind to yourself. The really important part though, in my self-centered opinion, is be kind to yourself. Even when others aren't kind to you. Everything else will stem from there, at least that's what I find. When I'm nice to myself, I'm more inclined to be nice to others.
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