Reject

At 8:24 a.m., while I was taking my very last final, one of the people that works in the housing department was sending me an e-mail saying that the housing committee appreciated my concerns, but that it had rejected my request. My head exploded about one hour and thirty minutes later, when I checked my e-mail and found this out.

Actually, 'exploded' is not the right term for what happened. It was a hot, molten rage for which there is no comparison. If I could shoot fire out of my mouth, there would have been fire everywhere. There would have been no control over the flames of rage. I flipped my computer off. I have never flipped my computer off before, no matter how angry it has made me. 

Now I am going through the appeals process, wherein I get to give the university EVEN MORE DETAILS about things that I feel are personal. Yes, internet, I've not told the whole story about how crummy this situation has been, and I'm gonna keep some things to myself. I would say sorry, but I'm not.

Anyway, now I have to wait. Again. 

Day 19

It's hard to update a blog everyday.

This time tomorrow, I could know what if my contract termination has been granted. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.

Day two of finals

I only have two finals left. I should be overjoyed about this.

But.

My remaining two finals are both at 8 a.m. For those of you who don't know the difference between a.m. and p.m., that is eight in the MORNING. As in, the sun will have only been up for maybe an hour at that point. Which means that I will be driving when the deer are still frolicking through the fields near our house.

That is a much nicer way to describe the way the deer STAND ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD and stare at you as you slam on the brakes. I swear they fist bump after I can't see them anymore, because they get such a thrill from how I pale I get when I see them.

Also, this is for my co-worker, Bryan, whose name I will actually spell right. See, Bryan, I AM mentioning you in my blog. HA!

It's raining, it's pouring

It was so dark this morning that I didn't realize it was morning. I feel like I am catching up on all the sleep I didn't get the past few weeks, even though I shouldn't be catching up on all the sleep I've not been getting until this time next week. I can't imagine being on a semester schedule when I am already so ready for this quarter to be over

I am back at home, I'm not sure if I've mentioned that. Home has dial up, so posts will probably continue to be light for a few days. Apologies.

Home

A university should never allow things to get so bad that a student finds their only option is to move out of their dorm before the quarter is out. I can't imagine being a student whose only option was to take an emergency move, because I cannot imagine ever returning to the dorms as a resident.

I'm already back at home and will be commuting next week, finals week. There are a few things going on that I will hopefully be able to comfortably discuss by this time next month, but I'm going to play that stuff close to the chest until then.

Happy almost halfway through NaBloPoMo guys!

Sympathy

It is really hard to sit at a table across from someone and know that your statements could affect the rest of their college career. It is really hard to get to a point where you hope that he or she gets the worst punishment imaginable, because their actions have caused you so much pain and trouble.

It is really hard to look in the mirror and realize that you've begun to look scared all the time. But it makes it really easy to wish that they get the full extent of the possible punishments tossed at them. 

Day 12

Today I went to the doctor, got something that I am ready to call the best thing ever because I am calm for the first time in days, and now all of those night of bad sleep have caught up with me and I am ready to sleep and sleep and sleep. 

End.

Oh, we're falling apart to songs about hips and hearts

I am losing it. I am completely and totally losing it. 

Last night, I had a panic attack. I've never been clear on what the difference between an anxiety and panic attack are, but, for me, the difference is how I feel during one. I can pull myself together during an anxiety attack, and they are brief (usually) and very focused. When I have an anxiety attack, I can still breath. I'm not perfect, but I can fake normal during an anxiety attack. I can't fake normal during a panic attack. 

I have to request an exemption to be allowed out of my housing contract. Last night, I composed a letter that will be one of the only things that will tell a committee of strangers that I should not be forced to return to the dorms next quarter. I began crying while writing it - I hate that I am so utterly miserable and feel so helpless and this process is only making me feel more helpless. After I got off the phone with Jon, I tried to rest, to calm down. I was anxious and tense and felt anything but okay.

My barely controlled panic totally went rogue on me, for lack of a better way to describe it. I couldn't breath, I was crying and couldn't stop, and I thought I was either going to throw up or pass out. I could not calm down. I could not talk myself out of the tailspin I found myself  in. I have gotten to a really bad place and those moments last night, those moments when I couldn't pull it together, is exactly where I am at. I am at a place where one wrong thought, one wrong train of thought, will make me start crying or whimpering or struggling to breath. I feel trapped. I feel helpless. I haven't felt this way in years and years and I hate that I feel this way because of something that can be changed, but that a committee is the one that decides if I need this change.

People, I need this change. If I am forced to return to the dorms next quarter, I honestly don't know what I will do. Probably lose my shit. 

A little screwed up

The posts for NaBloPoMo will be rather sucky the next few days - I got some rather sucktacular news that will be eating up my time for the next little while. I have lost all faith in the university system and will never again count on it to help me beyond scholarships and classes.  

I thought I would cry

I thought I would cry when I entered and when I left the polls - when I entered because of the purposeful way the people headed towards the polls were walking, reminiscent of the purpose to people's walk in V for Vendetta. We were going to be part of the change, we were going to be heard. When I left, it was pride. It was seven in the morning and there was a line at least twenty people long, all of the people in it college students.  The media hadn't expected us to do this, and we were.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry when the Ohio polls closed, because it meant that the ads, the awfulness, the arguing with Jon because our opinions on politics do not alway overlap, and all the other stuff was over. 

I didn't.

I thought I would cry during the election party in the lounge when a group of us were eating cotton candy and talking about what our parents' opinions on the election were and what we thought. It was a strange feeling to be in a group of people that understood what I was talking about, that was just as stressed as I was. It was like coming home.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry when the man on CNN said there was no way McCain was going to reach 270 after they called Ohio, Virginia and Pennsylvania for Obama. I was shocked, I was amazed, I was proud because people had voted, they had participated, they had fought for the person they believed in. Seeing the map turn blue on television and on the New York Times website (which had a really interesting map that colored in the second any percentage of votes was out - which is how Utah, Arizona, and Texas were all blue at one point) was just... there was something truly powerful about it.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry during McCain's concession speech and Obama's speech, because they were both good speeches and because it truly meant this battle was over. One tear happened, but... I didn't cry.

I remembered about Proposition 8 in California, I googled it, I found a map showing how the votes were rolling in, knowing that the polls had been close leading up to election day. 

I saw that people were voting 'yes' to add an amendment to the California constitution that would make marriage between a man and a woman only. That it was 'yes' by at least 2.5 percent. 

I started crying. They were not the tears of joy or relief that I had been expecting. They were tears of disappointment and anger and shame and sadness. I cried for my friends that are gay and for the people I know or know of that had gotten married since California legalized gay marriage in June. I cried for the fact that we could elect a black man to the presidency, but we can't vote for civil rights. I cried for the 16,000 couples that have gotten married in four and a half months. 

It is taking everything in me to not cry now. 

On a day that I expected to feel light and joyful and free of the awfulness of the past year, I am angry and sad. I am hoping that this isn't allowed to be put on the constitution, that for once civil rights will beat out narrow minded opinion. That the government will defend its people by taking a stance on something that it has avoided taking a stance on for years. 

This is the change that I find myself believing in today.

I voted!

I voted. I was walking to my polling location when they opened, and I got to hear someone yell, "Hear ye, hear ye, the polls are now open!"

I am so relieved this election will be over after today. Living in a swing state is frustrating and I will be happy to no longer see advertisements mongering fear or appealing to your hopes. I'm ready to see differences, because I am tired of only hearing about them.

I had a thirty-minute wait, almost exactly. If anyone is voting on OU's campus today and reads this before voting, good luck! The poll workers at Jeff are pretty nice from what I dealt with from 6:30-7 a.m.

Happy NaBloPoMo!

I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month, which means I have to update my blog for the next thirty days. I'm hopeful about my participation, though I've already come to the realization that weekends will probably be more links than actual posts.

With that in mind, here's a webcomic I think you should check out: Questionable Content.

I got turned onto the comic nearly a year ago, when Jon and I were first figuring things out. That first week he and I were together, the story line involved a secret handshake that was perfect to relate to some of the things we were wondering about. I ended up reading the archive in December, when I should have been doing homework for my English and Spanish classes.

The comic itself follows a group of twenty-somethings in a part of Massachusetts, having grown from a cast of two characters to many. My favorite is Hannelore, a blonde with severe OCD. In one comic, she got drunk while spending time with her control freak business tycoon mother and decided to touch a public toilet to prove a point. Yeah. I hope that came across as funny, because it was.

Have a great day guys! To all the Athenians reading this, enjoy Halloween and don't get caught if you enjoy it too much! See you tomorrow.

Bringing my little fangirl heart back to life

I am watching Heroes right now, and I have NO IDEA what is going on.

I LOVE IT!

(Up until tonight, Heroes has been annoying and hard to follow. While I'm slightly confused, it is nothing compared to the past few weeks. I have been yelling at the TV in a good way. YES!!!)

In which I babble and lack a point

It is grey and dreary outside. I have one window in my room, which is filled with my air conditioner, so all I can see is a flat, bluish-grey from the upper half my window.

I know in a few weeks, I will hate this weather. I will call it names and shake my fist at it and wish for spring. Right now I am feeling particularly generous to the weather, though, because this weather, this awful, dreary weather? This weather means that it is late October and my quarter will be finished soon. This weather means winter break and reading books that I get to choose and not having to stay up until 3 a.m. to finish my homework. 

I am going home for the weekend, to watch movies and hang out and get away from the craziness that is my dorm. I have some really great stories to share about my dorm life, especially the time one of my floormates decided it was a better idea to get me instead of an RA. Just so you know, dear readers, if we ever live in the same building, if you decide to get me instead of the person paid to resolve the various situations that pop up in dorm life?

I will be very, very grumpy. 

Tales of ye olde universitee

Today, I went to the student health center to make an appointment to finally deal with some issues I've been having. 

Hudson used to be open Monday through Friday only; budget constraints meant that the university could not afford to have Hudson open anymore than that, despite the overwhelming consensus that it needed to be open more. Amazingly, students need medical attention on the weekends! Because, apparently, we still get infections and have unprotected sex and punch walls while drunk on the weekend. So the bigwigs on campus put their heads together and, after realizing that they couldn't build a better facility or really do anything to improve our health care, decided that the solution was a $40 fee! The fee, they said, would mean they could afford to be open four hours on Sunday and could hire another doctor, among other things.

If a student decided not to pay the fee, he or she now has to pay for x-rays, visiting the campus psychiatrists, and being told that he or she does, in fact, have a massive sinus infection that is slowly making his or her head implode. 

For me, the fee means I can go see a doctor, which makes me okay with part of my loans and what not going into the program. I thought, 'hey, Hudson will be open on the weekends! I will be able to get any help I need!'

Because it turns out that I need help. But that is another post for another day.

I met my mom and brother for coffee this morning, then sat outside of Hudson until it opened at one. I walked inside, waited for my eyes to re-focus (it was really bright outside and I am very tired), and found the elevator. No one on staff noticed me - at least five other people walked in with me. Not many workers had shown up while I was sitting outside, so I had my doubts about whether or not the elevator would even come. In most buildings on campus, they shut off the elevator when the rest of the building is closed. But the elevator doors immediately slid open, I stepped inside, and pressed the third floor button.

It reached the third floor, the doors slid open and... I was greeted by near complete darkness. The only light on the third floor was coming from the sun filtering in. 

I went back downstairs and found out that only the emergency care bit of the building is functioning during Sundays. I didn't bother pointing out that the third floor was accessible and that I could have spent the day doing my homework up there, presumably without them finding me. I'll let them find that out on their own.

The first thing I do

The problem with Athens is that the weather is unpredictable. Even if it is predictable, the temperature varies so much that my options suck when I get dressed in the morning. It is 45 degrees and foggy at 8 in the morning, then it is 75 and balmy by 1. It sucks.

Today, I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, with a sweater thrown on for good measure. It was 45 degrees when I ran out the door (I turned off my alarm when it went off, and I do not remember doing this, but I did and did not wake up until twenty minutes before I had to be out the door). At 3, when my parents picked me up so I could get some groceries from Wal-Mart, it was 80. I was boiling in my jeans.

When it is hot and disgusting, I try to avoid wearing anything that is denim. I just canNOT stand to have jeans touching my skin when it is hot. They make me feel like I am suffocating.

So the first thing I did when I got back to my dorm was dig a pair of pajama bottoms out of my dresser and rip off my jeans. I wanted to cuddle my pajama bottoms to my chest and sing a happy little song about how wonderful they were when I grabbed them from my dresser.

Turns out it takes very, very little to make me happy.

My exhaustion runneth over

I have spent the entire day attempting to not fall asleep in class. The ENTIRE DAY. The only time I've not found myself struggling to not nod off has been at work or while I was writing a story for my news writing class. I find this absolutely arbitrary, because I actually fell asleep relatively early and didn't wake up until after seven a.m. 

Anyway, of all of my classes this quarter, my favorite class is news writing followed by oceanography. I love news writing because it is actual journalism, instead of information about the history of journalism or an unhappy education in the area of independent and dependent clauses. I also love that class because there is no homework. The most effort I put into that class is going over my assignments and AP style quizzes and figuring out what I did wrong so that I do not repeat that mistake. As much as I loved telling people I wrote an obit for a Finnish man with 22 grandchildren, as gleefully as I reported this fact to people because it made me giggle, it is the (lack of) homework that has won me over. I often have a laundry list of things competing for my time, a list that never, ever gets shorter. I am caught up for perhaps 2.1 seconds before I realize that I can't remember when I last showered or that my dishes are all dirty or that there is a third component to my Chinese homework. 

It is insanity, this college life, make no mistake.

But I love it. I am good at this education thing. I have been struggling this quarter, really struggling under the amount of homework and class hours and work hours and the fact that I really love spending time with my family, boyfriend and friends, to find a balance. What takes a priority on a day-to-day basis? Usually my schoolwork sucks up all of my attention until at least eleven at night, then I talk to Jon, then I sleep or keep doing homework. I am trying to find some time for myself - time to just sit and breathe, to not worry about stuff. But even with all of this, I love the things I am learning, I love having to push myself, even.

What was it that I was saying the other day about crazy flakes?

Suddenly reminded how permanently my foot resides in my mouth

I've been on the pill since September of 2006. My family doctor, back when we had insurance, felt that it was a good idea, and, well, I felt like it was a good idea. It has been nice having control over something that can sometimes be very, very inconvenient and knowing that I don't really need to worry about having babies until I am ready for babies.

I take it on time most days or at least close enough to on time that I should be fine. So I was really very pissed when I used the restroom yesterday and found that my pill had utterly failed for the first time in over two years. 

When talking to Jon last night, I said, "Yeah, and add to that the fact that my birth control failed and... ugh!" 

The silence was beyond quiet as it dawned on me what I just said and how bad it must sound. 

It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't happen on a regular basis, this foot in mouth thing. I'm lucky that I've not killed Jon with these mis-speaking at this point. 

Ugg actually made an adorable shoe

I was on Zappos and saw these. I am drooling. They actually look vaguely warm and yet are still stylish (at least, they are to me). Plus, leopard print flats! I love leopard print flats - I got a pair several years ago from the Isaac Mizrahi for Target line, and have worn out the sole of one of the shoes. The thought of having sheep fur keeping my feet warm during the winter, without looking like the rest of campus, is so tempting. 

Now I just have to find a really, really, REALLY good reason to buy them when I have too many other things that I actually NEED

Horrified

I'm watching mtvU, which is a rather odd experience, because do you know what mtvU shows?

MUSIC VIDEOS.

It is a very disorienting experience to be able to turn on the TV at any time during the day and being able to see a music video that ISN'T that awful Kid Rock song. A good chunk of the time I spend in my dorm is spent watching/listening to the music videos. Some aren't worth remembering, but some are.

My only complaint is a commercial that runs during every other commercial break. It is an ad for Hooters. It opens with a girl being interviewed and asked if she has ever held a job before.

"No, I'm in college!"

"What kind of job would you like?"

"I'd like one where I could work with my friends, make lots of money and have fun!"

"I'm sorry, that kind of dream job doesn't exist."

In the split second that the camera is focused on the older woman who is interviewing the young brunette, the girl changes her outfit into a Hooters tank top. I don't remember exactly what she says next, because EVERY SINGLE TIME, my head has exploded in utter horror when I see that outfit. 

Since when is Hooters a dream job? 

You were an engine driver, I was a deep sea diver

One thing I had magically forgotten during my ten week 'vacation' from school was how hard school actually is.

I should have remembered when I found my notes from spring quarter and DID NOT REMEMBER those days. At all. I knew I had gone to class because I had all of my notes and papers in the notebook in my hands, but I didn't remember the lecture or if I had contributed anything thoughtful to the class that day. I was waking up by no later then 7 am every single week day, working eight hours and going to class eighteen hours and foregoing a social life for that education thing.

I am trying to keep everything balanced. It helps that I am on campus now, as much as I miss home. It's easier to go out and have a life when the life is a five minute walk from where you sleep and study.

This week started with plans to do EVERYTHING and has slowly narrowed to a few select things. I actually went to the formal sorority rush last night, only to drop out two hours later. I was going to miss every event they were holding this weekend and I could only imagine what the rest of the quarter was going to be like. OU, being on a quarter schedule, has tests soon after classes start; there was no way I could cram for my tests AND be a pledge AND work AND do all the other things I have to do, including sleep. Sleeping is so very important to my sanity, next to eating three meals a day and getting to read something non-school assigned at least once a day. If you ever want to know what I am like when I am drunk, just keep from sleeping. Once I hit about hour 22 of being awake, I will be just as insane and likely to fall over as anyone who is drunk. I've experienced this in the past and can only imagine how much more FUN it will be considering one of my jobs at work is calling people and leaving messages. 

If you ever order books from where I work and get a message where the caller says 'we are open until...' and then recites a phone number, then says 'you can reach us at 7 pm if you have any questions,' that is me. 

Just wait 'til I get a little further in Chinese.

Just like a brand new penny

Yesterday, the dorms here at ye olde university opened at noon, for all incoming freshman. Even though I already have 38 credits under my belt, I am still considered an incoming freshman, which is probably for the best. My parents and I, with the help of some volunteers on campus, moved in my boxes and boxes of stuff. Seriously, I am not kidding, I probably had over a dozen boxes. Granted, they were not large boxes, but still. 

Even more impressive?

In this relatively small room, I managed to get everything to fit. There is still a need for some re-organization, and I need to pick up some shelving and a TV stand, but it is actually a very nice little room. I remember my older sister's various singles always felt incredibly small, as if they had been designed by someone hoping to drive the resident mad. My single, by comparison, feels practically spacious. I have a practically walk-in closet, which I have many, many plans for.

You'd think I'd be feeling homesick at this point. I probably would at this point, except my family is a ten minute drive away. Also, I spent last night at home. Lets just say that my dinner decided that it didn't like that I had eaten it, and I felt way too awful to stay in an unfamiliar place, which still needed a lot of unpacking done for it to feel like home. I still don't feel a hundred percent today, but I feel far better than I did last night, when I was treading the fine line between not sleeping because I couldn't get my brain to shut down and being so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open. 

Everything feels possible right now - it's all brand new and simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. 

59 days, five hours and a decent amount of minutes

Last time I saw my guy, it was about exactly two months ago.

I firmly believe in the awesomeness of our long distance relationship, but I want it noted, somewhere by someone in our universe, that not seeing your significant partner person thing for a little over SIXTY DAYS? SUCKS.

Tomorrow, we are going to the Greek festival in Columbus, with a brief stop at Target so I can pick up a few things I still need for the dorms. (I like eating my cereal out of bowls and my sandwiches off of plates. Call me crazy. Could I get bowls at Wal-Mart or Kroger? Yes. But the ones at Target are a nice turquoise-aqua-y color that I really, really, REALLY like.)

Jon is going to meet us at the festival and then I am going to spend the weekend a little further north, hanging out with him.

Muahahahaha!

I mean, erm.... Hey, I've not seen my boyfriend in almost an entire quarter's worth of time. Indulge my slight madness. Please?

This little piggie went to market...

I have two younger brothers - one is fifteen and the other is nine. The younger of the two recently decided he wanted a guinea pig. When he sets his mind on something he wants, he focuses on it in a way that makes me hope that he doesn't become a lawyer one day - because I don't want to be on the wrong end of his focus.

An example of this happened about a month ago. Our fair city was holding a beer fest week, culminating in a festival on the main street that cuts through uptown; we don't call it 'downtown,' no, we call it 'uptown.' It's one of the ways we identify out-of-towners. That and the fact that they actually obey the crosswalks with the little flashing men and hands.

Anyway, Iz had made some jewelry to sell at Boogie on the Bricks. There was beer, which you didn't get in trouble for having as long as you stayed on the bricks, live music, food and vendors selling jewelry, soap and all the other things you find at events like that. He was hoping to make enough to buy a bicycle, as well as a long list of other things. I sat uptown with my parents and Iz and watched as my little brother proved that he would have made an amazing girl scout, had he been a girl: he caught peoples' attention, told them how he was hoping to make enough a buy a bike, and the bemused man, woman or couple would often walk away with a set of earrings or a little clay creature he'd made.

By the end of the day, he'd made enough to buy the bicycle he wanted.

So my family knew that it was a matter of time before we ended up at petland, picking out a guinea pig and all the things that go with the little things. The only problem is he wanted one sooner rather than later and the holidays are still months away.

Enter Facebook and its marketplace.

Facebook's marketplace, for the uninitiated, is a little like what I've heard craigslist is like. You create a listing, putting it under a label of choice, from 'free' to 'wanted' to 'for sale,' and wait for someone to contact you. I love the Facebook marketplace and often peruse it, hoping to see a cheap futon or something else. It's like going to a million micro yard sales, only you don't have to deal with the grumpy or indifferent people perched in their beach chairs, waiting for you to find something your willing to buy mixed in with all the pairless earrings and shoes that seem to turn up at yard sales.

One day last week, I logged into Facebook and the mini-feed that is your front page when you log in (I really hope all this explanation is unnecessary), the wonderful mini-feed, informed me that one of my friends had just listed his two pet guinea pigs. For free. Complete with a habitat and food and pretty much everything you need when you decide to become a guinea pig papa or mama.

I messaged him and to make an already long story short, my brother is gonna have his guinea pigs. The look on his face when I told him this was so worth it - I had told him he was going to get something he had wanted, had been reading up on and learning about and attempting to convince our parents would be a good idea, without having to lift a finger.

At least, not until they're here.

Thunder, leaks, crappy sleep, oh my!

Last night, a thunderstorm blew through town. A loud, moving the trees outside my window, gushing water thunderstorm.

Normally, I sleep through storms. The only thing that can wake me up is my phone buzzing, but that's because my phone is no more than two feet away from my face when it buzzes. Storms are not even in my room, so I don't even budge. In mid-May, a major storm blew through and my classmates discussed how they were forced to sit in the hallways of their dorms until a tornado warning expired. Lightning struck several trees and there was a brief touchdown at a lake a few miles out of town. I slept through the night.

Jon and I went camping, at this fighting event thing that he attends nearly every year. It was during the last week of June, and I'm afraid it's ruined my ability to sleep through storms.

June was an extremely wet month for Ohio. We were in a tent. Tents are not, apparently, completely and totally water PROOF. The rain turned a loaf of banana bread into mold, and messed up several novels I had brought with us. It also strained my already severely cracked patience; the camping trip will not be filed in the 'successful vacations' anytime in the future. I woke up on several occasions because I rolled over and found my foot suddenly cold and damp, the sheet on our inflatable mattress damp anywhere it touched the floor of the tent. I remember moving books that were at least slightly damp, and avoiding a part of my pillow because a few of the seams of the tent were also leaking.

So, last night, during the house rattling thunder, I woke up and thought 'I have to save the books!' I didn't think 'oh, a storm,' nor did I think 'ehhh...' as I normally do, instantly falling back to sleep. No, I had a panicked stricken thought, one that grates on me because it makes no logical sense, and, yet, that is what I woke up and thought. In reality, my books are fine and I don't have to avoid any part of my bedding to get a good nights sleep. But I'm rattled, and that feeling aggravates me.

Two am

When Jon and I first got together, I couldn't fall asleep until we'd had our good night phone call. If he was going out for the night, he would call me when he got home, and I would be in a fitful state of not-quite-asleep until my phone started buzzing. Part of it was habit - I'm not such a creature of habit that my routine can't be changed, but I am enough of one that I sometimes struggle to sleep if my routine is different. I can fall asleep anywhere, just let me brush my teeth, call my boyfriend and find a comfortable spot on the bed. That last one takes longer, but I will fall asleep eventually.

The past few weeks though, I've been out like a light not long after hitting the sheets. It doesn't matter if I know that I am going to get a call in hour - I'm out. When he calls, I wake up enough to have a conversation, usually one that I can't remember beyond the greeting, the good-bye and one or two words in between. I'm not good at having conversations when they require me waking up. I usually greet him with an over-enthusiastic "Hey!" that feels like it is louder than it probably is. Then I try to say that I wasn't that asleep, seriously, I was half awake when the phone rang. Nevermind that I vaguely remember looking at the phone and wondering why, exactly, it was there.  This is usually followed by a disbelieving statement from Jon, then lots of sleepy 'your pretty's and 'I love you's from me. I can only imagine what those conversations would look like if someone transcribed them. 

You can call me at two am and I'll swear I was still awake, but it's fairly likely that I won't even remember what I said in the morning.

The places you'll go

I am looking for bedding and rugs and towels and other various things I never really thought about me needing before on Targets website. I usually consider myself internet savvy - I can Google things faster than you can say 'hey, where'd the phone book go?' But on the rare occasion I try to utilize a websites search feature, it fails. Miserably.

I type in '6x4 rug,' hoping I'll find the rug featured in this weeks ad. I'm supposed to be getting things to make my room a wonderful living environment and that starts with a rug. At least, it starts with a rug in my head. I'm not really looking forward to living in the dorms, not one tiny bit, but I'm hoping that getting some bedding and things will change that. 

My search results in a few ugly rugs, rugs that look like people who own pets with digestion problems own for those occasions when Fluffy eats five pounds of granola. These do NOT look like rugs I would ever buy. So, I try a few other searches, after checking the bar at the top of the site to make sure I didn't miss a section labeled 'college 08.' 

Finally, I get fed up and go through the listings that drop down from those little tags at the top if you roll your mouse over them. Bed+Bath yields 'College 08,' of course. So, I find the rug sections, go through ELEVEN pages of thumbnails of rugs, to find that the rugs featured in this weeks ad?

They're only available in stores. Oh, and I never found the one I was looking for.

I really dislike trying to shop online.

That whole 'outlook on life' thing

Sometimes it really amazes me what can change my perspective on a situation, what can change my perspective on life.

Recently, I quit my job. I had been baby-sitting for this couple for nearly three years, had watched their son grow and seen their family grow. Had you asked me two years ago if I would ever leave the gig if I stayed here for school, I would have said no. 

Things changed. They started being home a LOT more when they had their daughter and their son stopped listening to me the way he used to. I became more hesitant with doling out time-outs, because my punishing him often got him in trouble with his parents. My two hours of peace when he napped went up in smoke when I started watching him and his sister - their naps never over-lapped for more than thirty minutes. I felt like a horrible person, disengaged and unhappy. I love those little kids, but I just could not take their parents being RIGHT THERE ALL THE TIME. It was like the ultimate pressure - I had to walk this fine line or else watch the little dude get in trouble or lose my patience because she would be screaming her head off and he would be trying to get my attention.

I knew it was time for me to leave many, many times over the past few months, but I knew I had to quit when I started wondering if I really wanted kids one day. Anyone that knows me knows that I coo at babies like a mad woman and that I’m beyond content to have one sided conversations with toddlers at the grocery store. I’m that girl, the girl that likes kids and knows she wants a bunch of them. Girls like me, we want kids and struggle with the concept of not wanting a few. And there I was, wondering if my conversations with teh boy about random things like baby names and awful habits our kids will inherit one day, you know, our future kids as conversation topic, was really a path I wanted to head down. 

So I finished. It was about as informal as it could get, my last day - some of their friends came into town, so I spent forty-five minutes at their house before giving up and going home. There aren’t words to express the mix of emotions I felt as I walked out of the door - a sense of freedom (I’ve likened it to the scene in the Rescuers Down Under, when the lizard gets out of the cage and dances around, singing ‘I’m free, I’m free!!!’), a little big of anger, and a touch of disappointment. 

Since last Friday, things have gotten better. I feel like I have a handle on things and I’ve been so happy, happier than I’ve been in a while. The last time I remember feeling like this, I was at teh boy’s for spring break. While I loved that job a great deal, it stopped being fun or enjoyable for me. I’ve got a job somewhere else now and other then a few scheduling conflicts, I’m far more at ease there. A weight has been removed, one that I didn’t even realize was there.

And it feels really, really good.

Sometimes, my education is worth every cent

"Today, in class, we learned about pyramids and Egypt and floods! They had time sheets with excuses for why people missed work, and there was one, this one hieroglyph, and it said the guy missed work because he had a hangover."

"..."

"There was a hieroglyph for hangover! THAT IS SO COOL!"

Addictive tendencies

Why does the internet have to be so distracting?

And why did Teh Boy's laptop have to decide to be ornery two days before he comes down to visit?