Saturday, September 30, 2006

Queen of my Own Throne...

Sometimes I think about this life and where it's going, and I feel filled with hope. I think I'm especially lucky because not too many people have a definite idea of where they are headed and I do.

And that makes my heart happy.

I was sitting in the concrete ghetto that is my school today, waiting between work and school, and I thought of how deflating the scene would have been two years ago. I most certainly would have fled back to Hell to lay on my bed sobbing until I broke out in hives. But now everything is different.

I get to leave. I get to go home. I will never again walk by an organic potato shop on my way home from school. I will never again be forced against my will to live surrounded - quite literally - by a million people who I don't know. I will never again live in a building with two hundred other people, actually under the same roof, who I don't know and who don't care to know me.

I think of life back home on the ranch. With SuperNan and the Precious Boy, my Dixie Dog, my family.... Close by the guy who owns the store and who talks your ear off every time you go in. Right down the gravel road from the skating rink my Great Grandfather and my Grandfather built so many years ago. Nearby my crazy uncle and his garden of peppers and tomatoes. I don't even eat tomatoes. And I can't wait to live near them. Gallons and gallons of tomoatoes. They're probably even organic ones.

I get to go back to BerryLand one more time, and manage the fields under the direction of the Berry Queen. And the Berry Babies can all stop by the field on their way home from school to tell me about their days. And bring me a Coke.

And I sit and I smile and I think, one day, I'll be the Queen of my Own Throne. I'll have my own BerryLand. Who knows if I'll ever have my own Berry Babies... If not, SuperNan can have me forever. She even said so. She said I can live at the Ranch forever. SuperDad seemed less than thrilled, but I'm sure he'll warm to the idea once I stop mooching up all his smokes and beer. I'm good like that.

Yep. Just me, my fruit, my CowTown, my cat. My family.

No concrete. No strangers. No organic potato shops. Business for myself.

I think of my Throne, and of one day, in the distant, distant future, being the Queen of it....

And it makes my heart happy.


Thursday, September 28, 2006

When your own blog bites you in the ass....

I'm sure you'll all recall my new policy of dishonesty. I thought it was a great idea. Until today.

Last night I asked someone, who we'll refer to as my secretary for today, if she had deposited a fair portion of money into my bank account. And she said yes.

I need to digress now, and explain that I have been spending some time lately with an individual. So, this individual and I have been spending time together. Yes.

And today I figured we could have some supper.

So we went to the grocery store. And, this individual tried to pay for the stuff I had picked up but I figured, Nah, my secretary put plenty of funds in my account yesterday! She said so! So I laughed and said "You can pay if it gets declined!"

And I giggled my cutest giggle, because that's just how cute I am.

And it came up declined.

So I was talking with my secretary tonight, and I asked: How come you said that you put money in if you didn't? Because I kind of feel like an ass.

And my secretary, the wonderful woman that she is, said "Well, I read in your blog that dishonesty is the best policy. So, I told you that there was money in your account with the full intention of going straight away to put the money in your account. And I kind of forgot."

Sigh. Damn my new policy.

I'm keeping it for now though. I think I'll nix the new policy with a three strike rule. That should do it.


Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Look here, Sickness....

This can not happen! I can not, will not get sick. I will will this sickness away if this is the last thing I do in this life. And considering how I feel right now, it may well be.

This is the thing about being sick and living on my own. My roommate is porbably just not that interested in making me tea, putting together a bed on the couch, and bringing me Advil and Tylenol every time I whine. And I get that.

When I'm at home and I'm sick, I get five star service. SuperNan brings me trays of nice things like Ginger Ale and decongestants. They keep me well stocked in Kleenex. She sends SuperDad down to town to pick up supplies. He makes me tea that is just exactly the right strength sweetened with honey. That's because it soothes your throat better than sugar. And SuperNan makes cinnamon toast that is spiced just right.

The next time I'm home and I get sick, I've decided to make a real production out of it. I figure that with the promise of enough candy and TimBits, I can even get my nephew in on the game. Bringing me things, putting on my favorite movies, running to the store to pick up orange juice, multivitamins, and keeping me company on doctor's appointments. I'll even convince them to wash my blankets in nice smelling stuff so I can be cozy and comfy.

For now, I had to go to the store (alone) and pick up my own Orange Juice (that I had to pay for myself?!?) and carry it all the way back to my house. Where I had to make it (While my roommate looked on) and drink it without the company of sympathetic parents.

Yeppers. Cold season 2007? You can expect all kinds of productions to be put on then.


(Who, by the way, seems to have staved off the illness again ... I'm just wondering how long I can keep it off before it hits full-swing.)

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Dishonesty is the best policy....

I told SuperNan to lie to me the other day.

It was wonderful, and from now on, I have a policy of comple dishonesty in my life. I never again want to be told the truth about anything.

My grandad left each of the grandkids a small amount of money. My grandmother requested that we do something of importance with it, that would last our whole lives.

Well, I already own an heirloom guitar. I have a computer. I have pretty much everything I need right now.

So, I told SuperNan that I wasn't sure, but I wanted her to pretend that buying a digicam is a good idea. I won't have it for the rest of my life, but I do love pictures and I do love taking them.

So, she lied! It was wonderful, and she was ever so good at it. Or, maybe she wasn't lying at all? Who knows! The great thing is that on the outside, my mom said "Oh, Honey, that's a wonderful idea!" and I have no idea what she's thinking on the inside.

And so now on, any time I do anything, I want my family to pretend it's nice. Like, the next time I try on a dress? Say things like "Wow! You have a great, uber-petite ass! And your legs aren't hammy at all!" Rather than "Holy Ham Legs, Batman".

Or, the next time I bring someone home to meet the family? Say things like "Wow, Honey! He's great! He's so nice! And look, he's almost on time! You should keep him!" Rather than "Are you kidding me? This is what you could find to date in the big city?"

Yeppers. A policy of dishonesty. A strict one.

I, personally, think it's a great idea.


Sunday, September 24, 2006

The sickness....

As you all know, my trusty readers, my body is in the terrible habit of turning on me from time to time. Evidence of this has been seen in various forms: The development of my backfat, which I abhore; the fact that in times of stress I break out in hives; the fact that I'm crazy; the fact that I get random sicknesses that leave me feeling as though I'm on my deathbed ... these all point to the fact that my body hates me.

My body has once again decided to hate me, and I'm sitting here nursing a glass of orange juice and wondering if it's too soon to call 911 because I hate being sick and I detest the fact that occasionally I get sick and then there's nothing for me to do about it.

Except, of course, whine to my blog.

Another week is starting up now which is good: I'm surprised at how fast the school year is going. Midterms and term papers are all beginning to come under way: I have four papers to do, some group work, and a million pages of text to read.

I also have the joy of a Sexology class this year: there's nothing quite worse than spending every Monday night from seven till ten watching a professor point out the proper names and locations of parts of anatomy I didn't know existed. I'm finally learning something in University and I'm thinking to myself: This is what I'm learning? Thirty thousand dollars worth of education later, and it's come down to a Monday night sex class. Oh, the places life takes us. If anyone had told me that it would take three years of University and a sex class before I learned something that is A) new to me and B) actually applicable in the real world, I probably would have saved my money and stayed at home.

But if I'd done that, I would never know the joys of getting absolutely tanked on a Saturday night with your favorite cousin and a group of wild girls and going out on the town, capping the night with greasy shawarma and four a.m. balcony beers before passing out about the house.

It's been a good weekend and now I'm going to bed, where I can curl up in my down duvet (Thanks Mom and Dad) and my flannel sheets (Thanks Mom) and my wool American Flag Blanket (Thanks T) and go to sleep wearing my big brother's army T-shirt (That he's never getting back) and my favorite lucky underwear. They're from the lucky underwear store and I have to say that if anything can ward off a random sickness, it's good underwear.

Have faith.



Friday, September 22, 2006

I'm neglecting my blog!!

Sorry, Dear Blog, for he neglect as of late.

I have millions of ideas for things to post, but alas, I have no time to post them. With six classes and somewhere in the area of eighty five bazillion hours per week at the SubShack, I'm feeling kind of worn down.

My Friday consists of this:

Seven am: Wake up

Eight thirty till ten am: Class

Ten till eleven thirty am: Class

Eleven thirty till five pm: Work

Five thirty till eight thirty pm: Class

Eight thirty till eleven pm: Dinner with Mal

Eleven till two am: Working on a group project at my house.

The following morning, bright and early I get to get up and go HOME for my niece's first birthday!! (How did she grow up so fast? She can WALK for heaven's sake!!)

So, at least I have one thing to focus on, but at the same time, I'm exhausted.

And now, I must sleep.

Good night, Blog!


Sunday, September 17, 2006

Being a teenager is pretty tough....

I was at a family event today and in being there I had the absolute pleasure of spending time with the Berry Queen and the Berry King and their newest addition, Berry Baby the Fifth. (Who I immediately absconded from her parents and refused to unhand until it was absolutely necessary. So precious.)

We were discussing the trials and tribulations of being a teenager: My own arrest at a young age for having not commited a crime; my ensuing criminal record and the impact it had on my life; the pressures for drinking, sex, and drugs that exist in this world.

As per usual, I use country music as my guide and I think of Martina McBride's This One's For the Girls. She sings "This is for all you girls about fourteen/ High school can be so rough, can be so mean/ Hold on to, on to your innocence/ Stand your ground/ When everybody's givin' in"

Yeah. Totally. Hang on to it.

My mom and I had a vicious battle when I was sixteen or seventeen about a house party I wanted so desperately to go to.

Picture me: The biggest loser in my high school. Nary a friend, except of course my best friend and my high school boyfriend. My social circle consisted of two people. And I got invited personally to a supercool house party.

So, I told my mom in so much excitement. A house party! ME! YOUR DAUGHTER! You know, the LOSER who has NO friends?!!?!? I GOT INVITED TO A HOUSE PARTY!!!

To this day, I feel like screaming it off rooftops. When I was sixteen, or maybe seventeen, I got invited to a house party!!

And my mother said no.

I was not allowed to go.

No way, no how.

And I cried and cried and begged and pleaded. And I told her "You know what? Every other teenager in the FREE WORLD would be lying to you right now. Saying they're going to be studying at So and So's house. And I told you the truth, and I'm the fuckwhit who's getting punished. Thanks."

I tried to explain to my mom today. Don't you see? You raised a daughter who has, and always will be, strong enough to stand up to the pressure. Peer pressure has NEVER done me in. Never. Not once. I never got into the drug thing. I've always listened to the least cool music on the planet. I drove to school in a frickin' station wagon, for Heaven's sake. I went to school all last week in a Lumberjack Jacket. (It was a gift from the Berry Queen at my birthday and I love it.)

That's not to say I never felt pressure. Because there are immense amounts of it in this world. That's not to say that I haven't spent many a night laying in bed crying over my lack of coolness.

I have no coolness to speak of.

There is so much in this world that is there to tempt young people. Drugs, sex, money, alcohol, popularity.... It's all out there for the having.

If I could say one thing to the young teens of this world, it would be really profound.

If I could say one thing to them, it would make them stop before every choice that they make and think "How will I feel about this in five years?"

If I could say one thing to them, it would be so powerful that not another teen boy would ever walk to school with his pants hanging down around his ass; and no teen girl would ever feel the need to don uncomfortable underwear and low waisted jeans in a desperate fit to be accepted among her peers.

But I can't think of anything profound enough or powerful enough to say. I want to scream at the teens that I know to stop. Slow down. How cool or uncool you were in high school SOOOO doesn't matter five years from now!

But it's so hard to see five years from now how you'll feel when someone hands you your first mixed drink at a party. Or when someone hands you your first big fatty (Or whatever the hell the curent term is for joint). Or when your first boyfriend whispers the words "I want you" when you're alone. Or the first time a drunk person offers to drive you home. Or the first time you have car keys in your pocket and someone offers you a drink.

It's just so hard to see and I don't see any way to make the teens in my life, who mean so very, very much to me see the reality of the decisions we're faced with every day

So I say this:

Hold on to, on to
your innocence...
Stand your ground
When everybody's givin' in....

With Love,


Wednesday, September 13, 2006

The To Do list was an utter failure..

Especially considering that thanks to encouragement from the ever encouraging BigMan, I wore my lumberjack jacket not only to school, but to work as well today.


And I must say I am thrilled. Another little baby in the world to be loved! Davey was thrilled when I told him that he did not, in fact, need to drive me to Hollywood this afternoon so I could see her baby.

But it would have been a fun trip.

I'm going to see the Chiropractor tomorrow. I'm scared and a little apprehensive of what he may or may not do to me.

I'm also wondering: What the hell do you wear to a Chiropractor appointment? Like, a sports bra and a T-Shirt? Because I am the queen of sports brass and T-Shirts... but I have to be in public and sports bras are not a good look for public viewing.

Oh, Hell. I'll be wearing my oversized lumberjack jacket anyways. I suppose someone wandering around in a blue plaid flannel coat has no cause for concern over the supportedness, or lack thereof, of her boobs for the day.


Monday, September 11, 2006

Perception vs. Perspective...

A lot of things in this world, I've discovered, rely heavily on perception and perspective. This is something I studied in college and I find it incredibly interesting.

What brings this post on is how I feel today. I feel fine. I feel good. I feel ambitious and ready to face the school year again.

After berry season, I came back to the city and sat around, unemployed, for two weeks. It was boring and left me feeling lacking in ambition to do anything. Then I got two jobs in the same day (Back at the SubShack, and a job at a drugstore, which I quit last week.)

Then I was exhausted, tired, homesick, cranky, and wallowing in my own misery. It all came to a head the day that Berry Baby the Fifth was born, because I needed to get there and I couldn't. Bless you, Davey, for being my hero once again.

The thing about perception is that if you perceive yourself to be in a certain situation, then because of that perception, you pretty much are. If you feel a certain way you believe it to be true.

And so I was perceiving my life to be crappy, and so I thought it was.

And so I sat on the balcony drinking beer and chain smoking.

Then a real emergency came up. The thing that got me about it was that I was walking down the street crying. It was the second time in three days I had done that, as the day I found out the Berry Baby was coming, I walked home from work crying.

And I realized that when you walk down the street crying about nothing, and when you walk down the street crying about something, you look he same way to everyone else.

The difference is that unhappiness needs to be put into perspective. And I guess the thing is, that when you put it into perspective and you realize that you're healthy and generally happy; you have all your needs met; you have a job and the ability to work at it.....

Well, when you count up all that, well, the perception you have gets put into perspective for you.

My roommate and I cleaned the house today. I went to my Psych of the Family course and the prof is really nice and funny... the class looks interesting and will cover a lot of the things I'm interested in.

I feel good.


In which I put a To Do list on my blog....

SuperNan and SuperDad visited yesterday. I always think it's hilarious when they 'drop in' to see me, which they've done three times now. The thing is, SuperNan always used to complain about her mother in law, who lived three thousand miles away, doing things like "Dropping in for coffee". And then staying for three weeks.

Now, I know that my parents only live like, a hundred miles away. So, it's not like they had to book tickets or like they stayed for three weeks. But still. Don't you see the funniness?

While here, SuperNan said to look at the positives. Keep positive. Because happiness is what you make it and all that.

So: TO DO:

1. Send a Thank You card to my boss for being great when Grandad was sick.

2. Clean my house so that the odor eminating from the kitchen stops.

3. Play my guitar loud and like I mean it because I missed it while I was gone.

4. Buy my textbooks.

5. Actually spend time reading said text books.

6. Clean my room

7. Get a new student card; or, find my old one when I clean my room

8. Clean Coperni-kitty's living quarters

9. Dance like no one is watching.
(Wait. No. I better not do that.)

10. Stop wearing my LumberJack Jacket to work and school.

We'll see how this goes....


Friday, September 08, 2006

Coming to terms....

I am back in the city now after a rather gruelling ten days at home.

The funeral held for my Grandad was lovely. The service was very nice. My cousin and I got up and spoke: she read parts of a story that he really loved, and I spoke about some memories that I had of him. It went well and I held myself together while I was speaking.

Losing someone to Alzheimer's is very trying. I can't think of a word to describe it.

The thing is, my grandfather changed so very much over the years of his sickness. It was like he was gone long, long ago.

Last semester I took the Psychology of Death and Dying. It was an interesting and emotionally charged course. I don't think it has helped me very much in all of this. The gist of it is, when someone dies, the people left behind can feel any range of emotions. Anything goes, and it's all normal and healthy until it takes up a large portion of the bereaved's life.

I am feeling a lot right now. Of course I feel guilt, for not visiting my Grandad more often when I could. I feel a sense of relief at the same time, though, because his suffering (Which was great in his last days) is over. I also feel a strange sense of happiness, knowing that my Grandad has gone on to a better place. I feel sadness because he will be greatly missed. And I feel a little bit of anger because he had to suffer the way he did.

School is starting up now. I'm relieved in a way. It has been an exhausting summer full of Berries, working, Berry Baby the Fifth being born, and my Grandad's illness. I have two professors who are a little crazy and one who is funny and nice so far.

SuperNan has made me an appointment with a Chiropractor for my back, which was acting up all week and had me in such pain over the last few days that I could barely stand up. I'm a little leery of letting a stranger twist and contort me, but at this point I'm looking forward to being fixed of my back woes. Because, you know, I hate it when people whine about back pain.

And so, life goes on. Which seems a little wierd to me. I feel like the world should stop for a day or two. Just let everything stop so I can catch my breath. But this big old world keeps spinning and I will be just fine.

Because I always am.


Wednesday, September 06, 2006

And Grace will Lead us Home...

My grandfather passed away early this morning.

He struggled with Alzheimer's for years, and now he is at peace.

I told him before he passed away that there would be a Buick Century waiting for him. It would be fully loaded, with leather seating and climate control. There would be a hockey stick waiting for him as well.

And now I think, maybe I should have said Cadillac? Maybe he would have preferred, in his last hours, to picture a Cadillac waiting for him rather than a Buick.

And I woke up this morning and heard the news that he had passed on. And I realized that what I said didn't matter any more. Because maybe there are no fancy cars in heaven, because everything is perfect once you get there. And maybe you don't need a car because you have everything you ever wanted simply because of the perfection that heaven is.


Saturday, September 02, 2006

A Post about Underwear....

Because I can't stop loving good underwear.

By the same token, it is entirely safe for you to assume that I dislike not so good underwear.

And the infamous GrannyPants fall into the category of not so good underwear.

(Oh, have I told you that Jooms has a new home? I've been so busy that I haven't even spammed my readers about her! Damn me!)

So, today, Joomy posted about some new underpants that she tried out. And she loves them. They do not fit into the realm of Granny, and I'm so proud of her for coming out of her comfort zone!

I have to say that I am in touch with loving underwear. (Although if you ever use the word panties around me, I might have to strangle you with my crocheting because I hate that word.)

I know a lot of people in older generations (Like my father ... *ahem*) who think that attractive underwear is about attracting people. Male people. (Hah. He's not aware that if that were true, I'd get around to shaving my legs more than once for every financial quarter that passes us by.)

Nope, underwear for me is not about sex appeal at all. The only people who get the pleasure of seeing my underwear is my roommate and my cat. And usually then it's because it's been strewn about the house because I'm a slob.

I love string bikinis and thongs especially. I do not own a single pair of granny pants on the principle that they are not sexy enough to cover my ever expanding ass.

Great underwear makes me feel great. I don't know if it will do the same for you, but that's what it does for me. I have underwear in every size and color of the rainbow. Some of them are large enough to cover my behind and some of them leave my mother shaking her head and muttering on laundry day. ALL of them leave the male members of my family squirming and looking the other way. When we were trying out our new clothesline this summer, my mother was somewhat embarrassed when the neighbor came over to help my Dad with some equipment related things and my underwear was waving from the clothesline like a flag, screaming "I'm PINK! And BLUE! And YELLOW and you should stare at ME, Dammit!"

There is really nothing more confidence boosting than walking down the street knowing that in reality, you could be wearing flesh colored control top undies that float all the way up to your rib cage, but in reality, you're wearing La Senza Thong Underpants in Hot Pink with complementing purple bows. It's like your own little secret that you can walk around with all day. You can look like ass, have unplucked eyebrows and no makeup, and still, you're sexy because your underwear have deemed that no one who is unsexy would be brave enough to put them on, so clearly, you ARE sexy. And sexy you shall remain. Because you're brave enough to don hot undies.

Joomy did make one mistake though. She tried wearing her new thong underwear around the house! You have to not be standing up and sitting down a lot! You can walk, you can dance, you can consume copious amounts of beer, but you can not be lazing on the couch. It just gets uncomfortable. That's why I recommend them for clubbing! (Which means, JoomyDear, that we need to go CLUBBING sometime soon so you can try out your new undies in an appropriate setting.)

Yep. I love underwear. I think I own more than sixty pairs of them. I can go weeks without doing laundry and still have enough clean underwear to make it through another work week.

And that makes me happy.

And you know what?

That's Ok.