Hmmm New Years. Fun times.
Another year to hope for the best; another year of probably getting the worst.
Everyone is so hyped up on changing themselves, when that isn't the problem. We change; every day we change, little irrational human beings we are. The problem is changing for the better and ay, there's the rub (ooh, ooh PROFUNDITY ALERT! SHAKESPEARE QUOTATION MODE ACTIVATED).
This year in Summary:
I feel a ton older; an ounce wiser; but not too worse for wear. It's hard to not become wearied by just ourselves, much less this planet of human beings that go around being...human beings.
Ah, spoken by a true person who hasn't had any hardships! XD I mean, seriously, what have I to complain about. And yet, I don't think the Lord looks down on my observations because they have a fraction of truth. As angsty as noting the "wretched self-centerdness of humanity" is, it is kind of true. Just another bit of truth to pile on the sadder, tougher truth experienced by most of the rest of the world.
So, I rest in the grace of God; pray for him to change me so I can make even a small difference in the world. And, in the mean time, I turn my cynicism to whimsy as that is the only escape we have, I think. Savor and increase the tiny, useless things in life to make the deep dark serious stuff look a little less dark and serious. Well, at least give our brains a break from it for a bit. We need to acknowledge both sides of the coin in order to see the real three-dimensional object.
And here I am...rambling.
Happy New Year everyone! Love your Family! Cherish your Friends! Pray for Wisdom! Keep a wary eye out for the HUNDREDS OF ANGSTY BACKSTABBERS THAT ARE OUT THERE *eyeliner*
On this bizarre note, I leave you...
*takes a bow*
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Too many things not posted...
Ok, so I started writing innumerable blog posts, but they all ended in fail.
Story of my life: I've become this guy, http://xkcd.com/621/
(Per usual disclaimer: be aware that you could be offended if you browse further in XKCD.)
tl;dr version of the last...2 months: I didn't keep my promise to update the blog. But that's ok, because no one particularly cares. University is fun but...stress. Our house got yet another hole cut in it due to a workman "error." (My theory: we have a ghost that wants to get out, so he keeps making people cut holes in our walls. Why the sucker doesn't leave, I dunno.) The onions that were watching me have died. I trimmed my hair with non-disatrous results. I got swine flu. I survived swine flu. I said stupid things. I drank my weight in Starbucks.
I'd like to give a squee out to my English class.
We are awesome. My teacher is a grad student who is absolutely hilarious. Most story workshops culminate in the following sentence: "Yeah, your story just needs more death." Between that and the occasional hilarious "writing fail" (which can, alternatively, culminate in extreme frustration "Ur Bad Writing Iz Hurtin' Mah Soul")...such as the case where we recommended that the author just change the mother figure to a girlfriend. Worst part was, he wouldn't really have to change much. Freud chuckles evilly.
Ah, fiction class, where would my Monday nights be without you? Stream of consciousness is great an all, but "Up and coming up again Rick this time..." just doesn't smack of Joseph Conrad. And bowel =/= bowl. Just...yeah.
And I would post the quote of the semester, but I sense people would run away screaming, so I won't. Wise choices.
Also featured this last semester: Quandaries. Wow, my brain has been busily buzzing this whole fall fluctuating between a massively strong faith and a "Huh....oh bother" sort of faith. This actually excites me somewhat even though I'm still in a bit of some quandaries at the moment, but I think that whatever comes out of this, I'll be stronger. I'm *thinking* God can handle some questions and quandaries. I never wanted a blind shallow faith, and I think that this will help me get a deeper, more wide-eyed faith.
Also new: I'm being really bold about saying what I believe. Not so much in the prostlytizing department as much as: Well, here's what I think and feel to be very, very true. And people who I think I would disagree with aren't fleeing or condemning or anything. So I think the Lord is working a saweet balance between declaring truth and still being compassionate towards people. This makes me happy because as my awesome Eastern Civ professor stated: There are people way smarter than you or I who believe things that you might think ridiculous, so stop laughing...this has to make sense on some level. A very interesting tightrope to walk between saying: "OH THAT'S YOUR TRUTH AND THAT'S WONDERFUL!" and "YOU ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL FOREVER AND EVER YOU SINNNNNAR; STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAK!!!!!" There has to be a middle ground, but it is a middle ground in a minefield.
So, we're three weeks away from my first semester being over and I've already learned a ton. As agaonizing as it is, I am so glad I have taken Anthropology. It has not only challenged my own preconceptions, but also has provided me with new insights and arguments against certain dogmas (both mainstream and not). And my professor is quite possibly the nicest person on the planet. What other professor uses: "Elvis has left the building, and so have I" as a notification that he'll be out of town over Thanksgiving break.
On a less "I'm totally deep" note: NOMISTENTIAL CRISIS. ReddiWhip versus The Real Thing.
On one hand, The Real Thing tastes oh so much better and creamier.
On the other hand ReddiWhip comes in CANS so you can mainline it for two minutes straight while hearing that satistfying "SKRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFT"
On the other hand ReddiWhip comes in CANS...canned food...aerosol canned food...ew.
On the OTHER HAND Reddiwhip is convenient
On the OTHER HAND The Real Thing lets you use an awesome beater! *bzzzz*
I dunno.....
Story of my life: I've become this guy, http://xkcd.com/621/
(Per usual disclaimer: be aware that you could be offended if you browse further in XKCD.)
tl;dr version of the last...2 months: I didn't keep my promise to update the blog. But that's ok, because no one particularly cares. University is fun but...stress. Our house got yet another hole cut in it due to a workman "error." (My theory: we have a ghost that wants to get out, so he keeps making people cut holes in our walls. Why the sucker doesn't leave, I dunno.) The onions that were watching me have died. I trimmed my hair with non-disatrous results. I got swine flu. I survived swine flu. I said stupid things. I drank my weight in Starbucks.
I'd like to give a squee out to my English class.
We are awesome. My teacher is a grad student who is absolutely hilarious. Most story workshops culminate in the following sentence: "Yeah, your story just needs more death." Between that and the occasional hilarious "writing fail" (which can, alternatively, culminate in extreme frustration "Ur Bad Writing Iz Hurtin' Mah Soul")...such as the case where we recommended that the author just change the mother figure to a girlfriend. Worst part was, he wouldn't really have to change much. Freud chuckles evilly.
Ah, fiction class, where would my Monday nights be without you? Stream of consciousness is great an all, but "Up and coming up again Rick this time..." just doesn't smack of Joseph Conrad. And bowel =/= bowl. Just...yeah.
And I would post the quote of the semester, but I sense people would run away screaming, so I won't. Wise choices.
Also featured this last semester: Quandaries. Wow, my brain has been busily buzzing this whole fall fluctuating between a massively strong faith and a "Huh....oh bother" sort of faith. This actually excites me somewhat even though I'm still in a bit of some quandaries at the moment, but I think that whatever comes out of this, I'll be stronger. I'm *thinking* God can handle some questions and quandaries. I never wanted a blind shallow faith, and I think that this will help me get a deeper, more wide-eyed faith.
Also new: I'm being really bold about saying what I believe. Not so much in the prostlytizing department as much as: Well, here's what I think and feel to be very, very true. And people who I think I would disagree with aren't fleeing or condemning or anything. So I think the Lord is working a saweet balance between declaring truth and still being compassionate towards people. This makes me happy because as my awesome Eastern Civ professor stated: There are people way smarter than you or I who believe things that you might think ridiculous, so stop laughing...this has to make sense on some level. A very interesting tightrope to walk between saying: "OH THAT'S YOUR TRUTH AND THAT'S WONDERFUL!" and "YOU ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL FOREVER AND EVER YOU SINNNNNAR; STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAK!!!!!" There has to be a middle ground, but it is a middle ground in a minefield.
So, we're three weeks away from my first semester being over and I've already learned a ton. As agaonizing as it is, I am so glad I have taken Anthropology. It has not only challenged my own preconceptions, but also has provided me with new insights and arguments against certain dogmas (both mainstream and not). And my professor is quite possibly the nicest person on the planet. What other professor uses: "Elvis has left the building, and so have I" as a notification that he'll be out of town over Thanksgiving break.
On a less "I'm totally deep" note: NOMISTENTIAL CRISIS. ReddiWhip versus The Real Thing.
On one hand, The Real Thing tastes oh so much better and creamier.
On the other hand ReddiWhip comes in CANS so you can mainline it for two minutes straight while hearing that satistfying "SKRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFT"
On the other hand ReddiWhip comes in CANS...canned food...aerosol canned food...ew.
On the OTHER HAND Reddiwhip is convenient
On the OTHER HAND The Real Thing lets you use an awesome beater! *bzzzz*
I dunno.....
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Requisite 09/09/09 post
Why? CAUSE IT IS COOL! That's why.
So yeah. Hooray for dates that have numerical meaning. I like to keep an eye out for such dates throughout the year. Only they generally along the more esoteric line such as mathematical formulas "embedded." If only I were clever enough to be a mathematician. I think I'd have much fun.
So today will entail all of the ideas that I thought I wanted to blog about, but never really made work.
1) The Onions are watching me. We planted awesome last year onions, and they shot up and went to seed complete with little tufts of flowers on the end of long stalks. So, it looked like the onions were transmorgified into some tentacled beast with eyestalks. And they were watching us all summer. But now one of the eye-stalks has fallen, much to my chagrin.
2) Our house is haunted by a moody spirit that keeps deciding that it wants out...then no it doesn't. Then it does again. Why? Our house requires an inordinate amount of work that requires cavernous holes being carved in the walls. Which linger. For months. Then shortly after we get then repaired, another hole must be chipped.
3) We have a curse in which every item of ours that breaks is nearly impossible to fix. "This has never happened before!" or "I've never seen something like this." is said by nearly every computer technician, repairman, or plumber that darkens our doorway.
4) Grammar: Keep usin' it, foo.
5) Don't self-publish. Just don't.
There we go. I made a post on 09/09/09
And stop laughing at me because I didn't publish it at 9:09:09 in the morning. I was in anthropology at that time. So there.
:)
Stay......as happy as possible! In this dark, dark, depressing world we live in. *angst*
*not angst*
*smile*
So yeah. Hooray for dates that have numerical meaning. I like to keep an eye out for such dates throughout the year. Only they generally along the more esoteric line such as mathematical formulas "embedded." If only I were clever enough to be a mathematician. I think I'd have much fun.
So today will entail all of the ideas that I thought I wanted to blog about, but never really made work.
1) The Onions are watching me. We planted awesome last year onions, and they shot up and went to seed complete with little tufts of flowers on the end of long stalks. So, it looked like the onions were transmorgified into some tentacled beast with eyestalks. And they were watching us all summer. But now one of the eye-stalks has fallen, much to my chagrin.
2) Our house is haunted by a moody spirit that keeps deciding that it wants out...then no it doesn't. Then it does again. Why? Our house requires an inordinate amount of work that requires cavernous holes being carved in the walls. Which linger. For months. Then shortly after we get then repaired, another hole must be chipped.
3) We have a curse in which every item of ours that breaks is nearly impossible to fix. "This has never happened before!" or "I've never seen something like this." is said by nearly every computer technician, repairman, or plumber that darkens our doorway.
4) Grammar: Keep usin' it, foo.
5) Don't self-publish. Just don't.
There we go. I made a post on 09/09/09
And stop laughing at me because I didn't publish it at 9:09:09 in the morning. I was in anthropology at that time. So there.
:)
Stay......as happy as possible! In this dark, dark, depressing world we live in. *angst*
*not angst*
*smile*
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Scootin' around Campus
In keeping with that magnificent collegiate tradition of speaking authoritatively on a subject after minimal experience ("Well, I'VE had a semester of Philosophy!"), the College-goer of approximately 4 days shall now impart wisdom to next year's freshies.
Some facetious, some serious.
1) Do not overload your backpack if you plan to stay more than 2 minutes on campus. This problem is particularly compounded if you happen to stay for, say, 12 hours on campus. You're not that buff. And neither am I, apparently.
2) Don't dress up whatsoever on your first day. It really makes you stand out when probably the best idea is to look as invisible as possible (at least until you have found your classes...). By dressing down and looking decent but not stand-out-ish, you (a) can add a full academic year onto your appearance and (b) figure out where the heck you are going and the best way to do things without being interrupted by people. I've found that the more attractive/ostentatious/ridiculous (the line is blurred with my fashion sense...) I look the friendlier people will be. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but my primary concern first day of class is to scoot into my seat after being late, figure out where to stash my voluminous backpack, calculate exactly how much coffee I will need, and other such important things as opposed to chumming up with whomever I happen to sit next to.
3) Lay low for a few days and don't chum up for a bit if you can avoid it. I'm not saying that it's bad to have wide horizons, but with my gregarious personality I have brought many awkward moments on myself by being too friendly. Yes, too friendly. Such a curse generally brings one of three maladies: (a) a victim of "Teh Friendly (tm)" will sometimes shun you in a state of terror, (b) a willing accomplice to "Teh Friendly" will declare you their "Best Fwend Forwever"...even after you both discover that you have absolutely nothing in common. (This leads to the inevitable: "Well....I feel bad not hanging out with you cos you're a lovely person, but we mainly stay silent the whole time...what did the professor just say?" inner monologue), or (c) an overly-romantic idealist will decide that you are "The One." (And we're not talkin' Neo here...)
4) Feel free to take potentially humiliating risks for the sake of comfort. I accomplished this by digging out my old scooter which (at first glance) can only be described as: Safe-looking. Four wheels. I had, in my youth, felt a bit self-conscious about this scooter despite the fact that it totally pwned all of the flimsy little Razors zipping around. Frances (as I have recently dubbed him/her) is a hefty 6-7 pounds of sturdy metal with a turning radius ranging between "wide" and "very wide." Nevertheless what she lacks in appearance, she makes up for in stability, speed, and comfort (you lean to turn her, and can steer her using no hands, with practice. I can handily prop myself against her handlebars and coast comfortably rather than worrying about the wiggly giggly steering shafts that have a tendency to unhandily veer in ugly directions). And, by the end of my first day with her, I was receiving many compliments of "cool scooter."
That's it for now.
Some facetious, some serious.
1) Do not overload your backpack if you plan to stay more than 2 minutes on campus. This problem is particularly compounded if you happen to stay for, say, 12 hours on campus. You're not that buff. And neither am I, apparently.
2) Don't dress up whatsoever on your first day. It really makes you stand out when probably the best idea is to look as invisible as possible (at least until you have found your classes...). By dressing down and looking decent but not stand-out-ish, you (a) can add a full academic year onto your appearance and (b) figure out where the heck you are going and the best way to do things without being interrupted by people. I've found that the more attractive/ostentatious/ridiculous (the line is blurred with my fashion sense...) I look the friendlier people will be. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but my primary concern first day of class is to scoot into my seat after being late, figure out where to stash my voluminous backpack, calculate exactly how much coffee I will need, and other such important things as opposed to chumming up with whomever I happen to sit next to.
3) Lay low for a few days and don't chum up for a bit if you can avoid it. I'm not saying that it's bad to have wide horizons, but with my gregarious personality I have brought many awkward moments on myself by being too friendly. Yes, too friendly. Such a curse generally brings one of three maladies: (a) a victim of "Teh Friendly (tm)" will sometimes shun you in a state of terror, (b) a willing accomplice to "Teh Friendly" will declare you their "Best Fwend Forwever"...even after you both discover that you have absolutely nothing in common. (This leads to the inevitable: "Well....I feel bad not hanging out with you cos you're a lovely person, but we mainly stay silent the whole time...what did the professor just say?" inner monologue), or (c) an overly-romantic idealist will decide that you are "The One." (And we're not talkin' Neo here...)
4) Feel free to take potentially humiliating risks for the sake of comfort. I accomplished this by digging out my old scooter which (at first glance) can only be described as: Safe-looking. Four wheels. I had, in my youth, felt a bit self-conscious about this scooter despite the fact that it totally pwned all of the flimsy little Razors zipping around. Frances (as I have recently dubbed him/her) is a hefty 6-7 pounds of sturdy metal with a turning radius ranging between "wide" and "very wide." Nevertheless what she lacks in appearance, she makes up for in stability, speed, and comfort (you lean to turn her, and can steer her using no hands, with practice. I can handily prop myself against her handlebars and coast comfortably rather than worrying about the wiggly giggly steering shafts that have a tendency to unhandily veer in ugly directions). And, by the end of my first day with her, I was receiving many compliments of "cool scooter."
That's it for now.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Excuse for not posting in a while. I've been busy! No, really.
Brief update my minions adoring fans.
Holy Bat Guano August has zoomed by real!fast.
My room is almost all the way painted. Huzzah! It looks magnificent and not unlike a giant chocolate mint, which makes me very pleased. I have two walls cream, one wall a bright-ish green, and one wall brown with brown woodwork and a brown!and!green door (which was a last minute decision of mine when my friend was over painting. I was like: Green! Green! She countered with: then why the heck did you put brown there. Me: Green! Green!
(It was a long day as we had filled the tiny, not-very-well ventilated room with paint fumes (two different types) and deglosser fumes (which nearly made my cross my eyes...). To the extent that my mum poked her head in there and said: You two, please come out for a bit.
At that point we were so close to being done that we were at the "We don't CARE! HAHA! AFTER 5 HOURS! WE NEARLY FINISHED! HEEE!" But that could have been exacerbated by the fumes.
Aaaand I had to work more this week (two grueling days per week! for the past week and this week! The horrorz. Meanwhile, someone's house is being bombed....). Happily we are getting more help meaning that I'm not as uber crucial. Which is teh happiez. And! I got two pair of jeans (both adorable), two t-shirts, three tank tops, a jacket, and the cutest mini-skirt evar (I wear them over jeans and leggings etc...) for under $40. :D Hooray for employee discounts, coupons, and working at consignment shops.
Tomorrow me and teh sibling are going down to uni to plot our ways around for the coming year so she don't have to do it on class morning. And I should really get back to her to find where to get my books, but I don't get my scholarship disbursement until the 14th anyway...so it don't super matter. And I'm getting the hairs trimmed tomorrow. No more mullet for me. *sigh*
In injury news, I nearly got a sweet bruise from smacking into someone at the waterpark. So there were four peeps in our raft and somehow it got offkilter and swung up onto the side of the slide and promptly almost folded in half. Tossing me across it nearly. Smack....ow. Talk about your awkward moment. AAAND same day at the bottom of a new!shiny!actually!Boring slide, the big giant raft actually ditched me and my compadre on the ride. Which apparently isn't supposed to happen, so they had someone come over and interview us because "well it's a new ride."
Yeah, and I'm thinking that suddenly getting sucked underwater and feeling your lungs sieze up from sudden water entry is NOT how the ride is supposed to end? Awwww.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, sure, once my trachea is clear, I'll be dandy. In the meantime, pass me a Heimlich would you?"
Finally, I nearly got run over by a truck. So, I was crossing the street outside my work, and the entire city where I work has been recently chipsealed. But the geniuses in charge of public planning had not gotten around to repainting those pesky crosswalk markings.
So, the only thing designating them are the near billion signs throughout the town saying: "there are people here! And they walk! Across the street sometimes! Don't run them over, plz!" There's even a nifty little cone on one of the "crosswalks" across from the one I was walking on saying: "U needs to stop. Itz the law, foo." Essentially.
Yeah, so I'm happily sauntering across the street in designated yet invisible crosswalk. A minivan stops. I keep sauntering but see a big work truck pulling a trailer full of lawn equipment barreling down the road. Going fast. Really fast. And I do a quick calculation and realize that he probably can't stop in time. And, due to the fact that Edward was for some inexplicable reason NOT PRESENT! *sneer*, I decided it would be more prudent to slow to a crawl so that I'm not like loitering in front of the minivan (that's a nice hood ornament you got thar...).
Maybe it stop? *creep*
Maybe it stop? *creep*
Holy cow, it ain't stopping.
Meaning I have to stop.
Like nao.
*stop*
Minivan honks horn frantically (guessing at unobservant truck driver because the mom inhabiting said minivan was probably envisioning said me becoming smush if she didn't act said quickly.)
Me is startled by beep.
*looks at beep*
Truck barrels by at approximate velocity somewhere between fast and real fast.
Me, realizing I nearly became smush, scampers across street.
So nearly dying, getting injured and getting high on fumes has been greatly occupying my time.
And I suppose since I'm blogging I'm supposed to tie this so some deep universal truth. Which is: don't get hit by trucks, as it will most likely hurt. Fin.
Forgive the abhorrent lack of grammar-ness and punctuation and capitalization. Tis terrible, I know forsooth. But, frankly, after spending the past months on a writing board in which it is nearly required to have perfect grammar all of the time, I'm getting rather sloppy in my off time. Bad me.
Peace
Holy Bat Guano August has zoomed by real!fast.
My room is almost all the way painted. Huzzah! It looks magnificent and not unlike a giant chocolate mint, which makes me very pleased. I have two walls cream, one wall a bright-ish green, and one wall brown with brown woodwork and a brown!and!green door (which was a last minute decision of mine when my friend was over painting. I was like: Green! Green! She countered with: then why the heck did you put brown there. Me: Green! Green!
(It was a long day as we had filled the tiny, not-very-well ventilated room with paint fumes (two different types) and deglosser fumes (which nearly made my cross my eyes...). To the extent that my mum poked her head in there and said: You two, please come out for a bit.
At that point we were so close to being done that we were at the "We don't CARE! HAHA! AFTER 5 HOURS! WE NEARLY FINISHED! HEEE!" But that could have been exacerbated by the fumes.
Aaaand I had to work more this week (two grueling days per week! for the past week and this week! The horrorz. Meanwhile, someone's house is being bombed....). Happily we are getting more help meaning that I'm not as uber crucial. Which is teh happiez. And! I got two pair of jeans (both adorable), two t-shirts, three tank tops, a jacket, and the cutest mini-skirt evar (I wear them over jeans and leggings etc...) for under $40. :D Hooray for employee discounts, coupons, and working at consignment shops.
Tomorrow me and teh sibling are going down to uni to plot our ways around for the coming year so she don't have to do it on class morning. And I should really get back to her to find where to get my books, but I don't get my scholarship disbursement until the 14th anyway...so it don't super matter. And I'm getting the hairs trimmed tomorrow. No more mullet for me. *sigh*
In injury news, I nearly got a sweet bruise from smacking into someone at the waterpark. So there were four peeps in our raft and somehow it got offkilter and swung up onto the side of the slide and promptly almost folded in half. Tossing me across it nearly. Smack....ow. Talk about your awkward moment. AAAND same day at the bottom of a new!shiny!actually!Boring slide, the big giant raft actually ditched me and my compadre on the ride. Which apparently isn't supposed to happen, so they had someone come over and interview us because "well it's a new ride."
Yeah, and I'm thinking that suddenly getting sucked underwater and feeling your lungs sieze up from sudden water entry is NOT how the ride is supposed to end? Awwww.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, sure, once my trachea is clear, I'll be dandy. In the meantime, pass me a Heimlich would you?"
Finally, I nearly got run over by a truck. So, I was crossing the street outside my work, and the entire city where I work has been recently chipsealed. But the geniuses in charge of public planning had not gotten around to repainting those pesky crosswalk markings.
So, the only thing designating them are the near billion signs throughout the town saying: "there are people here! And they walk! Across the street sometimes! Don't run them over, plz!" There's even a nifty little cone on one of the "crosswalks" across from the one I was walking on saying: "U needs to stop. Itz the law, foo." Essentially.
Yeah, so I'm happily sauntering across the street in designated yet invisible crosswalk. A minivan stops. I keep sauntering but see a big work truck pulling a trailer full of lawn equipment barreling down the road. Going fast. Really fast. And I do a quick calculation and realize that he probably can't stop in time. And, due to the fact that Edward was for some inexplicable reason NOT PRESENT! *sneer*, I decided it would be more prudent to slow to a crawl so that I'm not like loitering in front of the minivan (that's a nice hood ornament you got thar...).
Maybe it stop? *creep*
Maybe it stop? *creep*
Holy cow, it ain't stopping.
Meaning I have to stop.
Like nao.
*stop*
Minivan honks horn frantically (guessing at unobservant truck driver because the mom inhabiting said minivan was probably envisioning said me becoming smush if she didn't act said quickly.)
Me is startled by beep.
*looks at beep*
Truck barrels by at approximate velocity somewhere between fast and real fast.
Me, realizing I nearly became smush, scampers across street.
So nearly dying, getting injured and getting high on fumes has been greatly occupying my time.
And I suppose since I'm blogging I'm supposed to tie this so some deep universal truth. Which is: don't get hit by trucks, as it will most likely hurt. Fin.
Forgive the abhorrent lack of grammar-ness and punctuation and capitalization. Tis terrible, I know forsooth. But, frankly, after spending the past months on a writing board in which it is nearly required to have perfect grammar all of the time, I'm getting rather sloppy in my off time. Bad me.
Peace
Sunday, July 26, 2009
In which the author realizes exactly what she thinks of universal healthcare
So, I turned 18 recently. But that has really nothing to do with this post beyond setting the stage. (I personally despise: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME =) :) ;) :D XD! posts.)
Due to the fact that I turned 18 recently (cleverly avoiding repeated repetitive redundancy), I needed to renew my driver's permit. (Not license, permit. Remember, I'm in the slow class for driving.) So me and Padre headed off to the DMV last Monday, which was an experience in and of itself.
1) All people in my local area, now your local DMV will NOT be handling license/permit renewals or issuings, you need to go to the head one that also is head of the juvenile corrections centre.What your local DMVs will be handling eludes me at this point in time, but they sure as heck won't be doing licenses/permits.
2) Best place to people watch is the DMV as virtually EVERYone from EVERY walk of life has to go there. You get to see it all. But, if you don't fancy people-watching
3) Bring a book (stupid me...). Let's wait in line for approximately 2/3 the lifetime of your average red giant star. *sigh* Although, my father and I were able to happily pass the time envisioning when this will be the everyday "hospital" experience iffen we get dat loverly healthcare. "But sir, I'm bleeding. Bad." "Take a number; go to the back of the line. You can use your shirt to make a tourniquet."
Well, I finally reached my person, and I was a little alarmed as the hobbity fellow was wearing a shirt emblazoned with "Sherrif's Department" as opposed to "Department of Motor Vehicles."
This will probably take forever as he most likely doesn't know much about the process. Oh boy.
Here's the really great part: he DIDN'T TAKE FOREVER! He briskly went about his work, and I got finished in no time.
I toddled over to the picture-taking department and got a fairly good picture to boot. We were in and out of the DMV in approximately 45 minutes. Hooray!
Having happily checked that off the list, I went about my daily business with my new shiny card.
Until, yesterday, that is. I went to a shop and the gal checked my I.D. and said: "Oh, I'm sorry, we can't take this. It's expired. "
Me: Whut? "Oh that's weird, I just got it five days ago, on the 20th."
Gal: "Yup, but it says "Expires: 7/20/2009"
Me: "Well what do you know, it does. Never mind, then. Cheers, love. I'd better boogie before I throw a hissy fit at the stupid DMV."
Yes indeedy, folks. U.S. government in action. Apparently, deare hobbit forgot to change the expiration date on my card so that it listed the proper year, which should be 2012.
So now I have a card proudly emblazoned with:
I.D. issued: 7/20/2009
I.D. expires: 7/20/2009
I never had a chance.
And now I really don't want healthcare courtesy of Uncle Sam. Can you imagine the hilarity?
Your prescription runs out on the day it was issued.
You're checked out of the hospital on the day you check in.
Oh, the possibilities are endless.
Due to the fact that I turned 18 recently (cleverly avoiding repeated repetitive redundancy), I needed to renew my driver's permit. (Not license, permit. Remember, I'm in the slow class for driving.) So me and Padre headed off to the DMV last Monday, which was an experience in and of itself.
1) All people in my local area, now your local DMV will NOT be handling license/permit renewals or issuings, you need to go to the head one that also is head of the juvenile corrections centre.What your local DMVs will be handling eludes me at this point in time, but they sure as heck won't be doing licenses/permits.
2) Best place to people watch is the DMV as virtually EVERYone from EVERY walk of life has to go there. You get to see it all. But, if you don't fancy people-watching
3) Bring a book (stupid me...). Let's wait in line for approximately 2/3 the lifetime of your average red giant star. *sigh* Although, my father and I were able to happily pass the time envisioning when this will be the everyday "hospital" experience iffen we get dat loverly healthcare. "But sir, I'm bleeding. Bad." "Take a number; go to the back of the line. You can use your shirt to make a tourniquet."
Well, I finally reached my person, and I was a little alarmed as the hobbity fellow was wearing a shirt emblazoned with "Sherrif's Department" as opposed to "Department of Motor Vehicles."
This will probably take forever as he most likely doesn't know much about the process. Oh boy.
Here's the really great part: he DIDN'T TAKE FOREVER! He briskly went about his work, and I got finished in no time.
I toddled over to the picture-taking department and got a fairly good picture to boot. We were in and out of the DMV in approximately 45 minutes. Hooray!
Having happily checked that off the list, I went about my daily business with my new shiny card.
Until, yesterday, that is. I went to a shop and the gal checked my I.D. and said: "Oh, I'm sorry, we can't take this. It's expired. "
Me: Whut? "Oh that's weird, I just got it five days ago, on the 20th."
Gal: "Yup, but it says "Expires: 7/20/2009"
Me: "Well what do you know, it does. Never mind, then. Cheers, love. I'd better boogie before I throw a hissy fit at the stupid DMV."
Yes indeedy, folks. U.S. government in action. Apparently, deare hobbit forgot to change the expiration date on my card so that it listed the proper year, which should be 2012.
So now I have a card proudly emblazoned with:
I.D. issued: 7/20/2009
I.D. expires: 7/20/2009
I never had a chance.
And now I really don't want healthcare courtesy of Uncle Sam. Can you imagine the hilarity?
Your prescription runs out on the day it was issued.
You're checked out of the hospital on the day you check in.
Oh, the possibilities are endless.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
So how shall I change in order to get more money...
Okay...so a minor rant. I'm on fastweb and I'm filling out all this personal info crapola And you get to the Personal Attribute Checklist. Here it is. Apparently, I have no personal attributes according to this exhaustive list. I'm putting the ones I find particularly preposterous in bold.
Adopted
Against the Death Penalty (But strangely enough, no "For the Death Penalty.")
Bilingual (I'm working on that....
)
Birth mother who has child placed for adoption
Bisexual
Canadian Citizen Technically, if we had been on the ball I could have gotten a dual citizenship, but it wouldn't be recognized by the U.S.
Cancer, siblings diagnosed with
Cathedral Home for Children, former resident
Clinically Overweight (This gives me great joy to know that when I become a walrus, I could possibly qualify for some scholarships. )
Displaced Homemaker
Domestic Abuse, Victim/Survivor of (Because there are a lot of people who don't survive Domestic abuse applying for scholarships.... Sorry. That was mean and insensitive. But....they didn't need the "Survivor of" one. I know, I know, it's a technical term. But Technically...)
Drug Conviction (And I'd get a SCHOLARSHIP FOR THIS??? They seem to downplay this perk in the anti-drug campaign. Maybe they'll give you money if you clean up...I certainly hope so. "Funded by The Godfather")
Farm, Raised on
Feminist
Foster Care Recipient
From a Small Town, 25000 population
Gay/Lesbian
Head of Household
Height: Women 5'10" or above, Men 6'2" or above I'm feeling very discriminated against
Last Name Van Valkenburg Seriously, my name is weirder than that. I should get PAID because my name is so messed up.
Married
Mobile Home Park Resident Uhm...wow
Orphan (Parentless) (<-- Parenthetical note for the student who honestly thinks he was delivered by storks.)
Parent
Parent of Multiples
Parent, Student with dependent Children
Political Party: Democrat
Political Party Republican (Cos we're all either one or the other. *snickers* I know what happened: The Libertarians were all hiding from the government, the Anarchists cannot possibly organize themselves into a scholarship-producing body, the Independents were indifferent, the Conservatives had no money, the Liberals....ideas anyone?, The Communists have already spent their money, and the Greens don't trade in paper currency because it destroys trees.)
Public Assistance Recipient
Public Housing Resident
Recently Immigrated to the United States
Refugee
Reservation, Resident of (See also "Domestic Violence, Victim of" or "Werewolf, High Possibility of Being" I can say these intolerant things because (a) I'm most likely partly Native American and (b) My friend worked on a reservation and has seen some heartbreaking things. My heart goes out to all the children of the reservations. You deserve better than what many of you get.)
Residence Hall Resident (Dormitory) (See also: Refugee)
September 11, Affected by Tragedy (Who wasn't? I'm tempted to click this...but I sense it is for immediate family members only.)
Single Parent
Spanish Speaking (I knew I should have studied harder...)
Student, One of Multiples (Twins...etc)
Survivor of Domestic Violence (See my comment for "Victim")
Transgender
Transplant Recipient
Transplant Candidate
Undocumented Immigrant (Won't. Say. A Thing.)
Vegetarian (Seriously. You get money for "don't eat no meat"? O.O)
Adopted
Against the Death Penalty (But strangely enough, no "For the Death Penalty.")
Bilingual (I'm working on that....
)Birth mother who has child placed for adoption
Bisexual
Canadian Citizen Technically, if we had been on the ball I could have gotten a dual citizenship, but it wouldn't be recognized by the U.S.
Cancer, siblings diagnosed with
Cathedral Home for Children, former resident
Clinically Overweight (This gives me great joy to know that when I become a walrus, I could possibly qualify for some scholarships. )
Displaced Homemaker
Domestic Abuse, Victim/Survivor of (Because there are a lot of people who don't survive Domestic abuse applying for scholarships.... Sorry. That was mean and insensitive. But....they didn't need the "Survivor of" one. I know, I know, it's a technical term. But Technically...)
Drug Conviction (And I'd get a SCHOLARSHIP FOR THIS??? They seem to downplay this perk in the anti-drug campaign. Maybe they'll give you money if you clean up...I certainly hope so. "Funded by The Godfather")
Farm, Raised on
Feminist
Foster Care Recipient
From a Small Town, 25000 population
Gay/Lesbian
Head of Household
Height: Women 5'10" or above, Men 6'2" or above I'm feeling very discriminated against
Last Name Van Valkenburg Seriously, my name is weirder than that. I should get PAID because my name is so messed up.
Married
Mobile Home Park Resident Uhm...wow
Orphan (Parentless) (<-- Parenthetical note for the student who honestly thinks he was delivered by storks.)
Parent
Parent of Multiples
Parent, Student with dependent Children
Political Party: Democrat
Political Party Republican (Cos we're all either one or the other. *snickers* I know what happened: The Libertarians were all hiding from the government, the Anarchists cannot possibly organize themselves into a scholarship-producing body, the Independents were indifferent, the Conservatives had no money, the Liberals....ideas anyone?, The Communists have already spent their money, and the Greens don't trade in paper currency because it destroys trees.)
Public Assistance Recipient
Public Housing Resident
Recently Immigrated to the United States
Refugee
Reservation, Resident of (See also "Domestic Violence, Victim of" or "Werewolf, High Possibility of Being" I can say these intolerant things because (a) I'm most likely partly Native American and (b) My friend worked on a reservation and has seen some heartbreaking things. My heart goes out to all the children of the reservations. You deserve better than what many of you get.)
Residence Hall Resident (Dormitory) (See also: Refugee)
September 11, Affected by Tragedy (Who wasn't? I'm tempted to click this...but I sense it is for immediate family members only.)
Single Parent
Spanish Speaking (I knew I should have studied harder...)
Student, One of Multiples (Twins...etc)
Survivor of Domestic Violence (See my comment for "Victim")
Transgender
Transplant Recipient
Transplant Candidate
Undocumented Immigrant (Won't. Say. A Thing.)
Vegetarian (Seriously. You get money for "don't eat no meat"? O.O)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Is back!
Well, due to a necessity to keep on with something writing-related despite my insane busyness (my fledgling attempts at fiction have suffered dearly to a horrid attack of "real life.") and due to the fact that my English Counselor made placed no small emphasis on the advantages of blogging (as odd as it sounds, I figure that even if/though I won't attract a massive following, I think it will be beneficial either way) as a means of getting Resume Candy (tm), I've picked up the poor old dusty had and tried it on again.
It is still quite big. And very, very dusty. But at least it is floppy and still fits fairly comfortably.
So, I've joined a new writing forum. I'm not fitting in very well in the community very well as it is very much as community-based forum rather than a forum designed for public viewing and membership. It is more of a club...and when you aren't available to post a lot on the clubhouse wall; well, things inevitably suffer. But that is fine as I have really learned a lot from these folks. Many of whom aren't published For those who may declare such writers unworthy of anyone's time, I plead Ebert's Law in their defense. I really agree with most every of the articles on the site and think that the hope of literature lies in their (however grubby) paws.
Resolution: I really need to read more. Classics and new books as recommended on the forum. Not so much for "you are what you read" but more for examples and exploration.
I went to my university orientation this weekend. *joy*
And, in keeping with that glorious freshie tradition, I changed my major. Not so much the major, but the emphasis. Now I'm going for a Linguistics emphasis (more Resume candy, and just generally more practical in today's economy.). Globalization is a biggie. And the Linguistics will get me in deep with the ESL tutor program. "English-Writing" is great, but frankly, you can write a novel no matter your emphasis or major. Why limit myself to a slightly grandiose declaration of my generally sekrit love? I also found out that I can take the higher-level Editing courses and pursue my interest of being an editor even if I go for the Linguistics (actually, the possibility of inter-global editing opens up.).
Pretty darn exciting.
Also at orientation:
-I'm not quite as weak as I thought, but I have a long way to go. Yes, I went rock-climbing. A sport I don't practice very often, but I love deeply because of its adventurous nature and my deepseated desire to conquer my fear of heights. Biffed it once, but was able to grab on to said rock and hoist myself to the top any way. (Thank you gigantic belayer. I have great belayer sense and will automatically zoom to the biggest, strongest-looking one. "You won't let me die.")
- It is confirmed that I attract weird people. At least one per event. Further confirmed that I am now destined to debate theology/ethics/politics wherever I go.
- I now seriously may consider doing a study abroad program. (More resume candy in addition to looking funs.)
I now have two occupations: shopgirl and babysitter/nanny for my boss. :D
Today was my first day of taking care of the kiddos for most of the day. I feel way more energetic than I normally do when I have to work from 11-6 (and this was 9:30 to 6!), which is excellent. I really hope I get the opportunity to do this more next summer.
Although they are both darling, I'd have to say that my boss's little 7-year-old girl (I'll call her Ashlyn as that's what she wished her parents would have named her.) totally made my day. *gives stars*
Story:
Well, I was working at the shop with my boss late today (Her husband picks up the kids at 4 and I then catch a ride to the shop and work there to close) and just then remembered to let her know that I was getting my hair cut pretty short this Wednesday. Not that she would particularly need to know, but I forgot to warn the kids and wanted them to get some sort of a heads up as (believe it or not) consistent looks matter. I remember freaking out as a young kid whenever my mom would try a different hairstyle than the one I was used to. So I figured, it would kind of weird them out to show up one day with shoulder-lengthish hair and then the next day with short (boy-ish...I'll post pics hopefully) hair of a slightly different hue.
She agreed and we both giggled over the funnyness of kids. Subject dropped.
Fast forward to this evening after I had been home for about one hour.
I get a call.
*checks*
It is from my BOSS according to caller ID.
Internal panic ensues. What did I do wrong? Oh noes! :O
I pick up the phone.
"Hello, a-muser!"
I hear, to my surprise, a rather worried Ashlyn on the other end of the phone.
"Hi," she says.
"Oh! Hi- *stutters* Ashlyn!"
*pause*
I continue, "What's up?"
"How short are you cutting your hair?!" she asks, sounding worried.
I try to stifle a laugh and then explain, roughly, how short it will be.
I ask her what else is going on and if her evening is going well. We talk a bit and then she breaks the news:
She, too, will be getting her hair cut this week! It will be just below her ears, she warns.
I then assure her that her haircut sounds adorable and that I'll promise not to gasp in shock if she won't gasp in shock when she sees my haircut.
She promises.
"Do you have anything crossed?" I ask, referencing a running joke we had that day (they kept crossing their fingers, arms, legs, eyes, toes, and even "teeth" *i.e. forcing an overbite*)
"*giggle* Nope!"
"Not even your teeth?"
"Nope."
"Ok, Ashlyn. See you!"
"Okay...BYE!"
It's been a good day.
It is still quite big. And very, very dusty. But at least it is floppy and still fits fairly comfortably.
So, I've joined a new writing forum. I'm not fitting in very well in the community very well as it is very much as community-based forum rather than a forum designed for public viewing and membership. It is more of a club...and when you aren't available to post a lot on the clubhouse wall; well, things inevitably suffer. But that is fine as I have really learned a lot from these folks. Many of whom aren't published For those who may declare such writers unworthy of anyone's time, I plead Ebert's Law in their defense. I really agree with most every of the articles on the site and think that the hope of literature lies in their (however grubby) paws.
Resolution: I really need to read more. Classics and new books as recommended on the forum. Not so much for "you are what you read" but more for examples and exploration.
I went to my university orientation this weekend. *joy*
And, in keeping with that glorious freshie tradition, I changed my major. Not so much the major, but the emphasis. Now I'm going for a Linguistics emphasis (more Resume candy, and just generally more practical in today's economy.). Globalization is a biggie. And the Linguistics will get me in deep with the ESL tutor program. "English-Writing" is great, but frankly, you can write a novel no matter your emphasis or major. Why limit myself to a slightly grandiose declaration of my generally sekrit love? I also found out that I can take the higher-level Editing courses and pursue my interest of being an editor even if I go for the Linguistics (actually, the possibility of inter-global editing opens up.).
Pretty darn exciting.
Also at orientation:
-I'm not quite as weak as I thought, but I have a long way to go. Yes, I went rock-climbing. A sport I don't practice very often, but I love deeply because of its adventurous nature and my deepseated desire to conquer my fear of heights. Biffed it once, but was able to grab on to said rock and hoist myself to the top any way. (Thank you gigantic belayer. I have great belayer sense and will automatically zoom to the biggest, strongest-looking one. "You won't let me die.")
- It is confirmed that I attract weird people. At least one per event. Further confirmed that I am now destined to debate theology/ethics/politics wherever I go.
- I now seriously may consider doing a study abroad program. (More resume candy in addition to looking funs.)
I now have two occupations: shopgirl and babysitter/nanny for my boss. :D
Today was my first day of taking care of the kiddos for most of the day. I feel way more energetic than I normally do when I have to work from 11-6 (and this was 9:30 to 6!), which is excellent. I really hope I get the opportunity to do this more next summer.
Although they are both darling, I'd have to say that my boss's little 7-year-old girl (I'll call her Ashlyn as that's what she wished her parents would have named her.) totally made my day. *gives stars*
Story:
Well, I was working at the shop with my boss late today (Her husband picks up the kids at 4 and I then catch a ride to the shop and work there to close) and just then remembered to let her know that I was getting my hair cut pretty short this Wednesday. Not that she would particularly need to know, but I forgot to warn the kids and wanted them to get some sort of a heads up as (believe it or not) consistent looks matter. I remember freaking out as a young kid whenever my mom would try a different hairstyle than the one I was used to. So I figured, it would kind of weird them out to show up one day with shoulder-lengthish hair and then the next day with short (boy-ish...I'll post pics hopefully) hair of a slightly different hue.
She agreed and we both giggled over the funnyness of kids. Subject dropped.
Fast forward to this evening after I had been home for about one hour.
I get a call.
*checks*
It is from my BOSS according to caller ID.
Internal panic ensues. What did I do wrong? Oh noes! :O
I pick up the phone.
"Hello, a-muser!"
I hear, to my surprise, a rather worried Ashlyn on the other end of the phone.
"Hi," she says.
"Oh! Hi- *stutters* Ashlyn!"
*pause*
I continue, "What's up?"
"How short are you cutting your hair?!" she asks, sounding worried.
I try to stifle a laugh and then explain, roughly, how short it will be.
I ask her what else is going on and if her evening is going well. We talk a bit and then she breaks the news:
She, too, will be getting her hair cut this week! It will be just below her ears, she warns.
I then assure her that her haircut sounds adorable and that I'll promise not to gasp in shock if she won't gasp in shock when she sees my haircut.
She promises.
"Do you have anything crossed?" I ask, referencing a running joke we had that day (they kept crossing their fingers, arms, legs, eyes, toes, and even "teeth" *i.e. forcing an overbite*)
"*giggle* Nope!"
"Not even your teeth?"
"Nope."
"Ok, Ashlyn. See you!"
"Okay...BYE!"
It's been a good day.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
"I need scissors..."
Happy Memorial Day, all you Yanks.
We're celebrating Memorial Day by watching Band of Brothers. An excellent series, albeit a bit edgy at times (Language and Violence....and then one bad bit on the last disc). Really makes you think and try to imagine actually being in that situation.
I honestly don't know if I could do it...
Yikes...Mortar attack on Bastogne...*boom*
I think I would die and/or go completely insane.
We should all thank our servicemen for enduring that hell period.
I promise I'll be more entertaining next time, but I'm totally exhausted (mild heat exhaustion...) and have a touch of a headache.
Have a great weekend, everyone, but take some time out to remember our Vets.
Cheers
We're celebrating Memorial Day by watching Band of Brothers. An excellent series, albeit a bit edgy at times (Language and Violence....and then one bad bit on the last disc). Really makes you think and try to imagine actually being in that situation.
I honestly don't know if I could do it...
Yikes...Mortar attack on Bastogne...*boom*
I think I would die and/or go completely insane.
We should all thank our servicemen for enduring that hell period.
I promise I'll be more entertaining next time, but I'm totally exhausted (mild heat exhaustion...) and have a touch of a headache.
Have a great weekend, everyone, but take some time out to remember our Vets.
Cheers
Friday, April 24, 2009
*click click click*
Hmmm...I should really go to bed.
Hmmm. But I'll log on to Facebook one more time.
Anything?
No.
I'll check my gmail too, just in case. *click* New tab's a good idea.
Anyone on?
No.
And.
And.
I'll check the forum too. *click click*
......stupid computer. so slow......
Nothing.
Oh,wait....
they made a new post, I'll check it out.
Oh well that's sad.
I should really go to bed.
But I made that really funny status update...maybe someone commented on it.
Yes.
YES! SOMEONE DID! Wonder if they're still on.
Maybe I should check.
What? New gmail message. *click* Notification.
Someone PM'd me on the forum!
Who could that be-*click click* Aw, that poor kid.
I should write them back.
*click click*
This is taking longer than I thought. UGH! Computer's slowing down!
I should really really go to bed.
Ah, PM done. *click*
I should wait for an answer.
It won't be long.
It's daylight where they are.
So desperate to make a connection to someone. Make them smile.
Wonders of internet.
I haven't even met them. But I can make them smile. Across the world.
But are they just being polite?
Yeah, they probably hate me.
While I'm waiting.
*click click click*
Nothing new on Facebook. *sigh*
I should really go to bed.
I'll just see who's on.
Maybe that person who commented. I replied to them.
Rats...they're not on.
Oh, but that other person is! Oh how wonderful...but our conversations get long, and I should really go to bed.
I'll check the forum,
one
more
time.
*click click click*
Something?
*click*
Anything...
*click click*
Nothing.
Yeah...that person must hate me.
I shouldn't've replied.
But, oh that's right...I need to print that document. *click*
*looooooad*
While I'm waiting, oh, right--- I'd better offline FB.
I can't be caught up in a conversation at this hour.
*click*
But, while I'm waiting to print, I'll check out some flair--or maybe someone is on gmail.
Yeah,
I need to get back to that person. They might be on gmail. *click*
They're not.
This doesn't really merit a full email.
Done printing. FINALLY!
*sigh* Nothing on the forum.
Nothing?
Really? *click click*
I made that post which I hoped would make people laugh just a while ago....oh, it got ignored. *click*
NEW EMAIL!
*click click click*
Collegeboard.
I should really go to bed.
But I'll go online in
Facebook one................ more........................ time.
*click click*
Takes so long. I'll fire off that email anyway....
*click* Wait.
Whew...sent that. Anyone online in Facebook?
Yup.
Oh no.
I need to get off now...they kind of scare me....*click click* NOW!
*phew*
Anyone else?
Anything?
I should really go to bed.
Hmmm. But I'll log on to Facebook one more time.
Anything?
No.
I'll check my gmail too, just in case. *click* New tab's a good idea.
Anyone on?
No.
And.
And.
I'll check the forum too. *click click*
......stupid computer. so slow......
Nothing.
Oh,wait....
they made a new post, I'll check it out.
Oh well that's sad.
I should really go to bed.
But I made that really funny status update...maybe someone commented on it.
Yes.
YES! SOMEONE DID! Wonder if they're still on.
Maybe I should check.
What? New gmail message. *click* Notification.
Someone PM'd me on the forum!
Who could that be-*click click* Aw, that poor kid.
I should write them back.
*click click*
This is taking longer than I thought. UGH! Computer's slowing down!
I should really really go to bed.
Ah, PM done. *click*
I should wait for an answer.
It won't be long.
It's daylight where they are.
So desperate to make a connection to someone. Make them smile.
Wonders of internet.
I haven't even met them. But I can make them smile. Across the world.
But are they just being polite?
Yeah, they probably hate me.
While I'm waiting.
*click click click*
Nothing new on Facebook. *sigh*
I should really go to bed.
I'll just see who's on.
Maybe that person who commented. I replied to them.
Rats...they're not on.
Oh, but that other person is! Oh how wonderful...but our conversations get long, and I should really go to bed.
I'll check the forum,
one
more
time.
*click click click*
Something?
*click*
Anything...
*click click*
Nothing.
Yeah...that person must hate me.
I shouldn't've replied.
But, oh that's right...I need to print that document. *click*
*looooooad*
While I'm waiting, oh, right--- I'd better offline FB.
I can't be caught up in a conversation at this hour.
*click*
But, while I'm waiting to print, I'll check out some flair--or maybe someone is on gmail.
Yeah,
I need to get back to that person. They might be on gmail. *click*
They're not.
This doesn't really merit a full email.
Done printing. FINALLY!
*sigh* Nothing on the forum.
Nothing?
Really? *click click*
I made that post which I hoped would make people laugh just a while ago....oh, it got ignored. *click*
NEW EMAIL!
*click click click*
Collegeboard.
I should really go to bed.
But I'll go online in
Facebook one................ more........................ time.
*click click*
Takes so long. I'll fire off that email anyway....
*click* Wait.
Whew...sent that. Anyone online in Facebook?
Yup.
Oh no.
I need to get off now...they kind of scare me....*click click* NOW!
*phew*
Anyone else?
Anything?
I should really go to bed.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
"Do it, dude."
So, it is my firm belief that 80% of all males...are morons.
The other day, I was downtown walking back to the parking garage when a flock of "skater dewds" came rolling along. One of them proceeded to completely fly off of his skateboard, skidded to a stop, and then shuffled off to find his board. A giant grin was plastered across his face. Not a sheepish grin, mind you. A, "Aren't I just totally AWESOME?"
You just wiped out. That's generally not considered bragging material.
Another (more courageous of the flock) decided to take his skateboard up a flight of stairs and was meandering around, deep in thought, musing on whether to attempt coast down that hand rail on his skateboard. Now, after seeing multiple attempts at this trick end in disastrous failure (the bloke crumpled up in the fetal position, whimpering), I cannot imagine that someone would decide to attempt it...in a public place. With all of his friends around.
It is my personal conviction that if you are considering to attempt a trick that has a high percentage of ending in dramatically embarrassing failure, that you practice said trick in secret until you perfect it, in the event that you do it at all.
Well, it looked as though this kid might wisen up. But then his friend uttered three words, *assumes "cool skater dewd" tone* "Do it, dude."
We didn't hang around to see the result of this exhortation, but we assumed that it would just be Natural Selection running its course.
Speaking of which: I got assigned my driving partner. Why, oh why did we have to put down our preferred driving partner so soon. I knew no one, so I put down...nothing. Not that I've made any bosom buddies since then, but at least I could have *possibly* avoided being paired with "Surly, the skinny jean dude." Oh well. He at least said, "Thank you" when I lent him my pen. Well, if worst comes to worst, we'll at least get some blogging material out of it. I actually pity Surly.
Disclaimer: I am proud to say that most of my male friends fall into the remaining "slightly sane" 20%.
The other day, I was downtown walking back to the parking garage when a flock of "skater dewds" came rolling along. One of them proceeded to completely fly off of his skateboard, skidded to a stop, and then shuffled off to find his board. A giant grin was plastered across his face. Not a sheepish grin, mind you. A, "Aren't I just totally AWESOME?"
You just wiped out. That's generally not considered bragging material.
Another (more courageous of the flock) decided to take his skateboard up a flight of stairs and was meandering around, deep in thought, musing on whether to attempt coast down that hand rail on his skateboard. Now, after seeing multiple attempts at this trick end in disastrous failure (the bloke crumpled up in the fetal position, whimpering), I cannot imagine that someone would decide to attempt it...in a public place. With all of his friends around.
It is my personal conviction that if you are considering to attempt a trick that has a high percentage of ending in dramatically embarrassing failure, that you practice said trick in secret until you perfect it, in the event that you do it at all.
Well, it looked as though this kid might wisen up. But then his friend uttered three words, *assumes "cool skater dewd" tone* "Do it, dude."
We didn't hang around to see the result of this exhortation, but we assumed that it would just be Natural Selection running its course.
Speaking of which: I got assigned my driving partner. Why, oh why did we have to put down our preferred driving partner so soon. I knew no one, so I put down...nothing. Not that I've made any bosom buddies since then, but at least I could have *possibly* avoided being paired with "Surly, the skinny jean dude." Oh well. He at least said, "Thank you" when I lent him my pen. Well, if worst comes to worst, we'll at least get some blogging material out of it. I actually pity Surly.
Disclaimer: I am proud to say that most of my male friends fall into the remaining "slightly sane" 20%.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Defrauded by Jelly Beans
Ah yes. Easter...the time when most of commercialized society's fancy turns to wonderful candy goodness.
And of course, what Easter table would be complete without that lovely bowl of colourful Jelly Beans? The big kind. The fluorescent kind.
I personally, rather look down on this family of jelly beans for three reasons:
1) White
2) Pink
3) Purple
You must understand that my entire doctrine of candy-ology relies on the concept that brightly coloured candy is to be at least vaguely fruit-flavoured.
White. Well... the only fruit I can think of that is white is Coconut. Ergo...white jelly beans should be coconut. Not so. Generally they are the deep, bold and complex flavour of...Sweet. Maybe occasionally "The White Candy" merits a "mystery" flavour...but that is really just a poorly-hidden attempt to cover up a miscalculation in ordering flavours.
Pink. I have no idea what fruit is supposed to be represented by this neon flashing shade of Rosado. Definitely not grapefruit which is the the closest contender for "pinkness" as far as fruit goes. Occasionally, Pink will be masquerading as "strawberry whose accuracy of flavour interpretation is poor." Generally, Pink is indicative of "Headache-Inducing Saccharine Sweetness Followed by Mysteriously Bitter Aftertaste."
Which brings me to my all-time enemy:
PURPLE! I *think* it is supposed to be grape. But after many traumatizing instances in my childhood of having to consume Grape-Flavoured Tylenol, my body has developed an aversion to anything and everything grape (with the exception of the real thing). Why can they never get the flavour of an actual grape right? Instead it is: "Headache-Inducing Purple-y Bitterness Followed by a Mysteriously Sweet Aftertaste."
With this in mind, let us approach the Jelly Bean Bowl.
Yesterday, I noticed that the shrine of Jelly Bean Goodness had been relatively untouched.
Although I noted that my three colourful enemies had infiltrated the generally innocuous cell of red, green, yellow, and orange...I decided that it was time for a "Vaguely Lime-ish Sweet Thing."
I gracefully plucked a green jelly bean from the bowl and popped it into my mouth.
Time actually stopped. I sprung into the air, spun around, and shot an accusatory glare at the Jelly Bean Bowl. Feelings of betrayal and abject despair filled my soul.
The Jelly Bean was mint. I kid you not.
Now, keep in mind that expecting one flavour and getting another never amounts to a combination of the two flavours. Otherwise...the Jelly Bean might've been okay. Mint and Lime, I've heard, generally compliment each other well (although I understand that usually a lot of alcohol is involved in the concoction...so that might alter reality a bit).
Well the flavours didn't mix. It tasted like a vile lime-ish sweet thing.
I stared at the bowl in horror, panting.
"It must've been a fluke," I thought, timidly reaching for another bean of different flavour.
Wrong again.
I then proceeded to test each and every colour of Jelly Bean present (including *shudder* white, pink, and purple). All of the flavours were wrong. No fruit whatsoever. It was like someone emptied their spice cabinet into the Jelly Bean Bowl!
Here is a quick listing of the suspects and their new cover flavours:
Green.
Should be: Lime.
Is: Spearmint.
Yellow.
Should be: Lemon
Is: Clove
Purple.
Should be: Disgusting Grape
Is: Toothpaste
Pink.
Should be: Pink?
Is: Peppermint...and strong, too.
White.
Should be: Sweet
Is: Either Anise Seed or Root Beer Mint...can't decide
Orange.
Should be: Orange...fruit
Is: Cinnamon
Red.
Should be: Cherry(?)
Is: Black Licorice
The audacity of this crime is unspeakable. Although I don't really mind the Clove, Spearmint, Cinnamon, or Peppermint. But...I must admit, I do feel defrauded.
I shall now be a devoted follower of Jelly Belly for the rest of my life. There is no other jelly bean I can trust.
Gosh, what days are these where we can't even trust CANDY anymore?
And of course, what Easter table would be complete without that lovely bowl of colourful Jelly Beans? The big kind. The fluorescent kind.
I personally, rather look down on this family of jelly beans for three reasons:
1) White
2) Pink
3) Purple
You must understand that my entire doctrine of candy-ology relies on the concept that brightly coloured candy is to be at least vaguely fruit-flavoured.
White. Well... the only fruit I can think of that is white is Coconut. Ergo...white jelly beans should be coconut. Not so. Generally they are the deep, bold and complex flavour of...Sweet. Maybe occasionally "The White Candy" merits a "mystery" flavour...but that is really just a poorly-hidden attempt to cover up a miscalculation in ordering flavours.
Pink. I have no idea what fruit is supposed to be represented by this neon flashing shade of Rosado. Definitely not grapefruit which is the the closest contender for "pinkness" as far as fruit goes. Occasionally, Pink will be masquerading as "strawberry whose accuracy of flavour interpretation is poor." Generally, Pink is indicative of "Headache-Inducing Saccharine Sweetness Followed by Mysteriously Bitter Aftertaste."
Which brings me to my all-time enemy:
PURPLE! I *think* it is supposed to be grape. But after many traumatizing instances in my childhood of having to consume Grape-Flavoured Tylenol, my body has developed an aversion to anything and everything grape (with the exception of the real thing). Why can they never get the flavour of an actual grape right? Instead it is: "Headache-Inducing Purple-y Bitterness Followed by a Mysteriously Sweet Aftertaste."
With this in mind, let us approach the Jelly Bean Bowl.
Yesterday, I noticed that the shrine of Jelly Bean Goodness had been relatively untouched.
Although I noted that my three colourful enemies had infiltrated the generally innocuous cell of red, green, yellow, and orange...I decided that it was time for a "Vaguely Lime-ish Sweet Thing."
I gracefully plucked a green jelly bean from the bowl and popped it into my mouth.
Time actually stopped. I sprung into the air, spun around, and shot an accusatory glare at the Jelly Bean Bowl. Feelings of betrayal and abject despair filled my soul.
The Jelly Bean was mint. I kid you not.
Now, keep in mind that expecting one flavour and getting another never amounts to a combination of the two flavours. Otherwise...the Jelly Bean might've been okay. Mint and Lime, I've heard, generally compliment each other well (although I understand that usually a lot of alcohol is involved in the concoction...so that might alter reality a bit).
Well the flavours didn't mix. It tasted like a vile lime-ish sweet thing.
I stared at the bowl in horror, panting.
"It must've been a fluke," I thought, timidly reaching for another bean of different flavour.
Wrong again.
I then proceeded to test each and every colour of Jelly Bean present (including *shudder* white, pink, and purple). All of the flavours were wrong. No fruit whatsoever. It was like someone emptied their spice cabinet into the Jelly Bean Bowl!
Here is a quick listing of the suspects and their new cover flavours:
Green.
Should be: Lime.
Is: Spearmint.
Yellow.
Should be: Lemon
Is: Clove
Purple.
Should be: Disgusting Grape
Is: Toothpaste
Pink.
Should be: Pink?
Is: Peppermint...and strong, too.
White.
Should be: Sweet
Is: Either Anise Seed or Root Beer Mint...can't decide
Orange.
Should be: Orange...fruit
Is: Cinnamon
Red.
Should be: Cherry(?)
Is: Black Licorice
The audacity of this crime is unspeakable. Although I don't really mind the Clove, Spearmint, Cinnamon, or Peppermint. But...I must admit, I do feel defrauded.
I shall now be a devoted follower of Jelly Belly for the rest of my life. There is no other jelly bean I can trust.
Gosh, what days are these where we can't even trust CANDY anymore?
Monday, April 13, 2009
In Which...the author horrifies people at driver's ed.
So today in driver's ed, we talked about such things as safety, what to do in emergencies, Evil!Road!Rage, and....that's about it.
Well, although I am happily establishing myself as "Random Homeschool Nerd Who Knows Everything" (I'm generally coming in 1st or 2nd in all the pre-tests.)...today I became a Libertarian for about 30 seconds.
Although I would kachunk my ballot as a Conservative, I would maintain that the Libertarian party has some pretty good points. Furthermore, Libertarian views tend to do a really good job of freaking people out. Which I don't really mind either. I figure, "Hey, they're gonna be freaked out...might as well control the place and the time." Almost like Socio-Economic-Political Suicide. (Not advocating suicide... by the way.)
Anyhoo. The moment came when we were discussing motorcycle safety and the wonderful instructor (He really is awesome! I'd recommend him in less than a second to anybody!) mentioned Motorcycle Helmet Legislation that would make it mandatory for people to wear helmets when riding a motorcycle. In my state, such legislation is not present. So he asked the question, what do you think?
Now of course, most of the girls are offering sensible and creative ideas such as, "It's a good idea...because otherwise, you could DIE!" Brilliant, Holmes.
And then...he says the fateful words: "Come on! Why doesn't someone play devil's advocate."
Now I fluctuate between actually believing that such "Keep you safe" legislation is a bad idea (Not the government's responsibility to babysit) and a good idea (but these are human lives we are talking about). It's a tough debate. But I decided to let my inner Libertarian run the gamut.
"But, it's not the government's responsibility to protect us from ourselves."
Silence fell.
He was expecting that argument and went on to explain that maybe this theoretical driver had a wife and kids at home and needed to be saved from himself. (I have a feeling the unstated sentiment was: and keep the family of the deceased from being on welfare.)
He then went on to cite the example of: Well...we have speed limit laws which do essentially the same thing.
Now...I was tempted to lob back the argument of: Generally, if you kill yourself in a motorcycle accident, you are the one paying the price..you aren't going to hurt another person because you die (with the exception of your family, but that is a risk you take by doing such reckless things...and generally, your family would pressure you). In speed limit laws, the legislators are saving the lives of OTHER INNOCENT people...not just one person. I mean, generally speaking, you could say that such legislation is protecting the family from emotional harm...but you must admit, it's a slightly different situation.
But I didn't lob back said argument...because the teacher is awesome and didn't deserve to have his classroom be turned into a political debate-hall.
SO yeah. I became a happy little libertarian for about 30 seconds...it was most enjoyable being the evuhl person.
Not edited...so enjoy the grammatical errors.
Well, although I am happily establishing myself as "Random Homeschool Nerd Who Knows Everything" (I'm generally coming in 1st or 2nd in all the pre-tests.)...today I became a Libertarian for about 30 seconds.
Although I would kachunk my ballot as a Conservative, I would maintain that the Libertarian party has some pretty good points. Furthermore, Libertarian views tend to do a really good job of freaking people out. Which I don't really mind either. I figure, "Hey, they're gonna be freaked out...might as well control the place and the time." Almost like Socio-Economic-Political Suicide. (Not advocating suicide... by the way.)
Anyhoo. The moment came when we were discussing motorcycle safety and the wonderful instructor (He really is awesome! I'd recommend him in less than a second to anybody!) mentioned Motorcycle Helmet Legislation that would make it mandatory for people to wear helmets when riding a motorcycle. In my state, such legislation is not present. So he asked the question, what do you think?
Now of course, most of the girls are offering sensible and creative ideas such as, "It's a good idea...because otherwise, you could DIE!" Brilliant, Holmes.
And then...he says the fateful words: "Come on! Why doesn't someone play devil's advocate."
Now I fluctuate between actually believing that such "Keep you safe" legislation is a bad idea (Not the government's responsibility to babysit) and a good idea (but these are human lives we are talking about). It's a tough debate. But I decided to let my inner Libertarian run the gamut.
"But, it's not the government's responsibility to protect us from ourselves."
Silence fell.
He was expecting that argument and went on to explain that maybe this theoretical driver had a wife and kids at home and needed to be saved from himself. (I have a feeling the unstated sentiment was: and keep the family of the deceased from being on welfare.)
He then went on to cite the example of: Well...we have speed limit laws which do essentially the same thing.
Now...I was tempted to lob back the argument of: Generally, if you kill yourself in a motorcycle accident, you are the one paying the price..you aren't going to hurt another person because you die (with the exception of your family, but that is a risk you take by doing such reckless things...and generally, your family would pressure you). In speed limit laws, the legislators are saving the lives of OTHER INNOCENT people...not just one person. I mean, generally speaking, you could say that such legislation is protecting the family from emotional harm...but you must admit, it's a slightly different situation.
But I didn't lob back said argument...because the teacher is awesome and didn't deserve to have his classroom be turned into a political debate-hall.
SO yeah. I became a happy little libertarian for about 30 seconds...it was most enjoyable being the evuhl person.
Not edited...so enjoy the grammatical errors.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
*gasp of joy*
I shall have a longer post soon regarding Easter and such celebrations. I prefer to call it Resurrection Sunday as opposed to Ishtar...er, Easter. But, whatever.
For now, all I get to say is this: I have a tic. Like Scrat. My eyelid now twitches. The lower one. On the right. Just randomly. There it goes again. *sigh* I need more sleep...
XD
For now, all I get to say is this: I have a tic. Like Scrat. My eyelid now twitches. The lower one. On the right. Just randomly. There it goes again. *sigh* I need more sleep...
XD
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Carcus.
I am proud to call myself a grammar stickler. People say, "You're just stupid to care about grammar," but I disagree.
It is not stupid. It is, actually, quite empowering.
It gives you a most satisfying feeling of self-importance to worship at the hefty font of grammar, punctuation, and spelling because, frankly, a lot of other people don't. Meaning you can laugh at them. And feel smarter than them. Probably not the best motivations for a Christian to be harboring, but I must be frank.
And, my parents can take comfort in the fact that this is, indeed, the slightly EXAGGERATED life and times of me...you okay, mum?
Back on topic.
Being a grammar stickler (like being a fatalist) lets you laugh at a lot more things. When you understand what the grammar of a particular sentence really implies, any (and every) poorly structured phrase gains a whole new (and hilarious) depth of meaning.
It empowering to realize that you (in at least one area) are smarter than THAT person. THAT person may actually be, and often is, an important and fabulously wealthy person who is known for their great intellect.
Ergo, being a grammar stickler may lead to many of being important and fabulously wealthy and known for your great intellect because, well...if THAT person can make it... (you see the picture).
I had one of those moments just the other day. In Driver's Ed training, in fact.
Our driver's ed instructor has a slightly alarming penchant for technology, leading to his classroom being equipped with two plasma screen televisions AND a projector screen that is set to a size of around 12x8.
Before class, he had news blaring on all three screens.
I happily plopped down in my seat, assumed a sitting position, and began passivly sucking in whatever flickered on the screen, like a good girl. After a most awkward Levitra commercial, a few smatterings of national news, and some food ads...the real stuff came on. That's right. LOCAL NEWS!
Yesterday's events were fairly unforgettable with two exceptions.
The first being a car chase involving an armed suspect. Not that the chase was unforgettable, but rather the mental image evoked by a simple comment that had me rolling in the aisle (proverbially. I stifled my laughter with a snort in reality. "Huh? What? Oh, he has a sinus infection. He snorted. Not me. Snorticus Maximus is OVER THERE!").
"They should totally use a helicopter and just blow that sucker away!" said the belligerent teen.
The vivid image of a frenetic, bug-eyed person barrelling down the highway, looking on in terror as the helicopter roars up from behind I found most amusing at the time.
But I digress.
The TRULY unforgettable news story was, in fact, of a rather more peculiar nature. Although I couldn't quite understand the reporter (volume was terribly low...), it is my understanding that someone decided to randomly hang a wolf corpse in plain view of the public.
The guy who programmed the "weird explainy thing at the bottom of the screen that tells you if the representative is Republican or Democrat" must've been in a rush because the screen proudly blared: "WOLF CARCUS!"
Wait, whuh?
Although I do not use the word carcass on a regular basis, I sensed that the programmer had been duped by that rascal "Pronunciation." "Spell it how you say it."
Uh, not quite.
Unfortunately, this amusing error was lost on most of my classmates...and even when I mentioned it today, the three people in the room just kind of looked blankly ahead.
Someday, when they're famous and fabulously rich and known for their great intellect, I shall happily daydream about being each and every one of them.
Grammar can do that.
It is not stupid. It is, actually, quite empowering.
It gives you a most satisfying feeling of self-importance to worship at the hefty font of grammar, punctuation, and spelling because, frankly, a lot of other people don't. Meaning you can laugh at them. And feel smarter than them. Probably not the best motivations for a Christian to be harboring, but I must be frank.
And, my parents can take comfort in the fact that this is, indeed, the slightly EXAGGERATED life and times of me...you okay, mum?
Back on topic.
Being a grammar stickler (like being a fatalist) lets you laugh at a lot more things. When you understand what the grammar of a particular sentence really implies, any (and every) poorly structured phrase gains a whole new (and hilarious) depth of meaning.
It empowering to realize that you (in at least one area) are smarter than THAT person. THAT person may actually be, and often is, an important and fabulously wealthy person who is known for their great intellect.
Ergo, being a grammar stickler may lead to many of being important and fabulously wealthy and known for your great intellect because, well...if THAT person can make it... (you see the picture).
I had one of those moments just the other day. In Driver's Ed training, in fact.
Our driver's ed instructor has a slightly alarming penchant for technology, leading to his classroom being equipped with two plasma screen televisions AND a projector screen that is set to a size of around 12x8.
Before class, he had news blaring on all three screens.
I happily plopped down in my seat, assumed a sitting position, and began passivly sucking in whatever flickered on the screen, like a good girl. After a most awkward Levitra commercial, a few smatterings of national news, and some food ads...the real stuff came on. That's right. LOCAL NEWS!
Yesterday's events were fairly unforgettable with two exceptions.
The first being a car chase involving an armed suspect. Not that the chase was unforgettable, but rather the mental image evoked by a simple comment that had me rolling in the aisle (proverbially. I stifled my laughter with a snort in reality. "Huh? What? Oh, he has a sinus infection. He snorted. Not me. Snorticus Maximus is OVER THERE!").
"They should totally use a helicopter and just blow that sucker away!" said the belligerent teen.
The vivid image of a frenetic, bug-eyed person barrelling down the highway, looking on in terror as the helicopter roars up from behind I found most amusing at the time.
But I digress.
The TRULY unforgettable news story was, in fact, of a rather more peculiar nature. Although I couldn't quite understand the reporter (volume was terribly low...), it is my understanding that someone decided to randomly hang a wolf corpse in plain view of the public.
The guy who programmed the "weird explainy thing at the bottom of the screen that tells you if the representative is Republican or Democrat" must've been in a rush because the screen proudly blared: "WOLF CARCUS!"
Wait, whuh?
Although I do not use the word carcass on a regular basis, I sensed that the programmer had been duped by that rascal "Pronunciation." "Spell it how you say it."
Uh, not quite.
Unfortunately, this amusing error was lost on most of my classmates...and even when I mentioned it today, the three people in the room just kind of looked blankly ahead.
Someday, when they're famous and fabulously rich and known for their great intellect, I shall happily daydream about being each and every one of them.
Grammar can do that.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Terrifying Adventure Begins
I am in a bit of a funk. A happy funk, but a funk no less. I'm going to have to miss dance tonight for the select purpose of attending the dreaded DRIVER'S ED.
I had many questions about Driver's Ed.
First of all, who was this Driver? Why did he remain anonymous? Did he have a shameful past that caused him to assume the vague pseudonym "Driver"?
Second, why did he have Ed? Sounds like Ed has had some tough luck, having to become the possession of the mysterious Driver.
Third, why did this Ed need attending? Maybe Driver really was mean to him, so he needed tending to.
As compassionate as I am, I remained apprehensive as to whether I should attend this Driver's Ed. What if Driver came back? If he is anything the syntax suggests he is, he probably is a rather unlikeable fellow.
I shared these insights with my parents in order to elaborate on my previously unspoken apprehensions about attending the mysterious, cult-like gathering.
"It's Education. Driver's Education. You need to learn how to drive."
"Oh."
So, at the tender age of seventeen, I have been thrust into this...thing called Driver's Education. Because apparently it is generally thought improper to have a 23-year-old college grad being driven around by her mum.
First night (last night) went well. The teacher also suggested that we younglings be taken out by our parents to drive around in parking lots.
He said that it was for our benefit, reasoning that it wouldn't be fair to us to go from zero to 60-minute drives.
Ha.
What he failed to mention was that the whole "take your kids out first"dealy was, in fact, a cleverly-disguised self-preservation mechanism. As my patient mother discovered earlier this afternoon.
I had many questions about Driver's Ed.
First of all, who was this Driver? Why did he remain anonymous? Did he have a shameful past that caused him to assume the vague pseudonym "Driver"?
Second, why did he have Ed? Sounds like Ed has had some tough luck, having to become the possession of the mysterious Driver.
Third, why did this Ed need attending? Maybe Driver really was mean to him, so he needed tending to.
As compassionate as I am, I remained apprehensive as to whether I should attend this Driver's Ed. What if Driver came back? If he is anything the syntax suggests he is, he probably is a rather unlikeable fellow.
I shared these insights with my parents in order to elaborate on my previously unspoken apprehensions about attending the mysterious, cult-like gathering.
"It's Education. Driver's Education. You need to learn how to drive."
"Oh."
So, at the tender age of seventeen, I have been thrust into this...thing called Driver's Education. Because apparently it is generally thought improper to have a 23-year-old college grad being driven around by her mum.
First night (last night) went well. The teacher also suggested that we younglings be taken out by our parents to drive around in parking lots.
He said that it was for our benefit, reasoning that it wouldn't be fair to us to go from zero to 60-minute drives.
Ha.
What he failed to mention was that the whole "take your kids out first"dealy was, in fact, a cleverly-disguised self-preservation mechanism. As my patient mother discovered earlier this afternoon.
"Yeah, letting you drive in a parking lot first? Sounds like a great idea to me. We'll do it right before piano. "
I take piano in a lovely church building that is situated in a nicely large parkinglot that is generally either completely abandoned or swarming with old people (church meeting), children (garden club), or both.
As we drove to aforementioned parkinglot, Mum happily chatted about various things to remember while driving, pointing out targeting and steering methods and the like.
I noticed, however, that as we got closer to the lot, she grew progressively quieter.
"Now, if that garden club thingy is meeting..." she began nervously.
"I won't try driving. Got it, Mom. Yeah, I don't want to kill anybody today."
"Oh look! They aren't here!" she said happily. Her tone might have been a tad different had she known what was coming.
To set up the scene aptly in your brain, you must first understand our car, whose name is Flyer. Flyer is a lovely vehicle roughly the length and width of your average 747 jumbo jet, peanuts not included.
In addition to its girth, it is also rather high, making clear sight of the ground virtually impossible. Climb into the front seat, and you may as well be steering the Millenium Falcon for all you can see.
Our vehicular manslaughter dream machine also has the added benefit of eager gas pedals (more on that later) and a highly attuned steering system. Perfect for beginning drivers.
"Ok, now you're gonna put your foot on the brake, now put it in reverse, now STEEER and go around...no, no gas, don't worry about gas."
In this way, we executed a rather tipsy billion-point turn out of the parking space mum had piloted into.
"Well, you just totaled a few cars...if cars were there...but that's ok," said Mum, nervously.
I was feeling rather nervous, yet somewhat confident after executing the maneuver.
"Now, I want you to look at that rock ahead. You see the rock?"
"Mmmhmm.."
"So you're pointed towards the rock...then you'll go towards the r-"
Misinterpreting her directions, and eager to prove my abilities at driving straight ahead, I punched the gas.
Flyer happily obliged and we rocketed into action, pulling a few g's.
It was over in less than a second, but that second had been enough for Mum's voice to raise several octaves.
"Not the gas...NOT THE GAS!!"
Eager to make up for my mistake (and to avoid hitting the telephone pole), I slammed on the brakes. Flyer, annoyed that its first attempt at no-winged flight had been ended, angrily lurched to a stop.
I have never felt such joy for the simple pleasure of being still. Mum's lips were pulled taught in terror, her eyes bulging.
"I didn't say gas."
We then started laughing. Hysterically. Amazing what trauma can do.
We continued driving for the next half-hour. It went pretty smoothly, with the one exception of mistaking the gas pedal for the brake pedal. But, seeing as nothing was destroyed (excepting my mother's nerves and my hopes of ever driving), I consider this practice a success.
We're going driving again tomorrow!
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