And so the countdown begins! I leave for college again on Sept. 5th, and my last day of work is Aug. 31st. My boss put up next week's schedule (which is my last week), and I saw that I wasn't working on Saturday, and I was all YES, NO SAT 7:30 AM SHIFT!
That quickly turned to ohyeahit'sbecauseI'mLEAVING. And then I almost cried. I've really loved this job.
But then I got happy again because I'm going back to school and I'm going to be a TA this semester, and I have my own room, and I get my frydaddy again! (Affectionately names Small Fry. I've REALLY missed him.)
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Right Now I Am Easily Frustrated
Especially because I'm supposed to be an English major and a great writer, but when I try to write something (like Chapter One of Theoretical Book), my inspiration gets sucked up and I want to tell EVERYTHING and it's a little overwhelming. Maybe I should stop with the background and get straight to the story and add the background as needed. Yes?
Theoretical Book was also supposed to be a humorous story, but it's melted into a drama. How does Terry Pratchett do it, balancing drama with humor? TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!
In case you're wondering, Theoretical Book is a mix between THE WIZARD OF OZ, ALICE IN WONDERLAND, and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
Theoretical Book was also supposed to be a humorous story, but it's melted into a drama. How does Terry Pratchett do it, balancing drama with humor? TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!
In case you're wondering, Theoretical Book is a mix between THE WIZARD OF OZ, ALICE IN WONDERLAND, and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Spiritual Chex Mix
I work really inconvenient shifts at work that start right as I get hungry (because I can't be a normal person and get hungry right when I get up. That would be too easy) and go on until I'm about ready to chomp someone's head off and then my boss sends me on lunch break.
Luckily, I have found a solution to this.
I keep a bag of Chex Mix (the Bold flavored kind) at work, and usually it takes me a week to snack down on it. First I start with those brown chippy things, then the chex, then the breadsticks, and then the pretzels when there is absolutely nothing left to allow me to avoid the pretzels. The brown chippy things are my favorite.
So the other day I was at Walmart buying Chex Mix, and while reaching for a bag I heard choose the right. It took me a little off guard. So, of course, I reach for the left bag, which was the bag I had originally been reaching for. Then that gentle little choose the right turned into CHOOSE THE RIGHT CHOOSE THE RIGHT CHOOSE THE FRIGGIN' RIGHT, DARN YOU! Internal me was all ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'LL CHOOSE THE RIGHT. And so I did. Let me tell you, that bag was the best bag ever, because it was chock full of little brown chippy things.
Moral: Read your scriptures. It'll give you spiritual Chex Mix.
Luckily, I have found a solution to this.
I keep a bag of Chex Mix (the Bold flavored kind) at work, and usually it takes me a week to snack down on it. First I start with those brown chippy things, then the chex, then the breadsticks, and then the pretzels when there is absolutely nothing left to allow me to avoid the pretzels. The brown chippy things are my favorite.
So the other day I was at Walmart buying Chex Mix, and while reaching for a bag I heard choose the right. It took me a little off guard. So, of course, I reach for the left bag, which was the bag I had originally been reaching for. Then that gentle little choose the right turned into CHOOSE THE RIGHT CHOOSE THE RIGHT CHOOSE THE FRIGGIN' RIGHT, DARN YOU! Internal me was all ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'LL CHOOSE THE RIGHT. And so I did. Let me tell you, that bag was the best bag ever, because it was chock full of little brown chippy things.
Moral: Read your scriptures. It'll give you spiritual Chex Mix.
Two for Two
Guys, you know my crap-tastic gimpy knee?
IT CAN TELL THE WEATHER.
No, really, I'm completely serious. Since I figured this out, I'm two for two. My knee can tell me within two days if it's going to storm. With pain. Lots of pain. Pain means rain. Or storm. Or precipitation of some kind. Which suddenly explains why I was a cripple for all of February this year....
IT CAN TELL THE WEATHER.
No, really, I'm completely serious. Since I figured this out, I'm two for two. My knee can tell me within two days if it's going to storm. With pain. Lots of pain. Pain means rain. Or storm. Or precipitation of some kind. Which suddenly explains why I was a cripple for all of February this year....
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Driving and Dentists
It's my day off, and I've spent all morning reading. I plan to spend all afternoon writing. And drawing. And reading some more. Ooh, look, that darn anaphora is back.
I should go driving. I need to get my license in six days. But...it terrifies me. So, like all things that terrify me (namely very long papers about things that I feel I should know but don't, or trying out a new recipe that involves skills that I should know but I don't, or cleaning out that odd-looking bag of pizza that's sitting in the fridge at work that I should probably throw away for someone because I think there's more green than pepperoni), I'm waiting until the last possible moment to do it, when my mother's drive to teach me reaches my drive to learn.
Here's the funny thing about learning to drive, especially when you're over 18: your parents put all the responsibility on you for taking action and learning how to drive, but they don't realize that you are COMPLETELY reliant on them to teach you.
Someone...please...teach me?
The school countdown has begun. Well, it would have if numbers and I had some sort of arrangement where we work together as distant but amiable acquaintances. Instead, it's more like the relationship between dentist and patient, when the patient has five cavities and three root canals, and the dentist just broke up with his girlfriend and wants to punish said girlfriend vicariously through all of his female patients. He takes great satisfaction. You pass out from sheer terror and excruciating pain.
There should be an app for that.
I should go driving. I need to get my license in six days. But...it terrifies me. So, like all things that terrify me (namely very long papers about things that I feel I should know but don't, or trying out a new recipe that involves skills that I should know but I don't, or cleaning out that odd-looking bag of pizza that's sitting in the fridge at work that I should probably throw away for someone because I think there's more green than pepperoni), I'm waiting until the last possible moment to do it, when my mother's drive to teach me reaches my drive to learn.
Here's the funny thing about learning to drive, especially when you're over 18: your parents put all the responsibility on you for taking action and learning how to drive, but they don't realize that you are COMPLETELY reliant on them to teach you.
Someone...please...teach me?
The school countdown has begun. Well, it would have if numbers and I had some sort of arrangement where we work together as distant but amiable acquaintances. Instead, it's more like the relationship between dentist and patient, when the patient has five cavities and three root canals, and the dentist just broke up with his girlfriend and wants to punish said girlfriend vicariously through all of his female patients. He takes great satisfaction. You pass out from sheer terror and excruciating pain.
There should be an app for that.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
A Very Womanly Blog of Woman Things
Guys, I'm actually happy that it's a new month. This is big. No, really, really, big. Because I haven't been happy for it to be a new month for...at least six months, maybe a few years.
Let me explain. Also, here's my warning: This is a womanly blog post about very womanly things. If you are a man (which I highly doubt, as men have no interest in my blog), or talking about very womanly things makes you uncomfortable, please drop down to the section below the next bolded sentence where I tell you everything is now safe to read.
Beautiful Mother Nature, in all her divine wonder, has blessed me with all the intense blessings of womanhood at the beginning of every month.
And when I say intense blessings, what I really mean is a drop-kick in the vagina.
From the time of junior high I've had intense cramps during my period. At first, over-the-counter pain medications would do the trick for me. Then they got worse. And then I had to use extra-strength Midol. And then it got even worse. And then I had a knee surgery where they gave me Percocet to ease my suffering. Things got better. And then they got so very worse when the Percocet ran out. And the extra-strength Midol stopped working. So I tried Naproxen Sodium (essentially what they use in Midol to kill your pain). And then that stopped working so back to over-the-counter it was. And then my cramps got so bad that they not only lasted for four days and left me curled up on my bed crying and begging for death, they gave me fatigue, nausea, and morning sickness the week before.
Not pleasant. (Just about as pleasant is that paragraph with TWILIGHT-levels of annoying grammar. In my case, non-varying sentence length and the ever-present anaphora).
I decided that enough was enough, and that it was time to go see a lady-doctor (read: gynecologist). Mainly for birth control pills. I had asked around and found that most of my friends already took them, and not only did it help with their cramps, but it also helped with their skin and their mood swings, two things I'm desperately in need of help in fixing.
The gynecologist visit wasn't that bad. Because I'm in Kentucky and I'm not sexually active, my gynecologist (rather, the nurse practitioner that could see me sooner) didn't really have anything to do. So I put the big sheet on, she checked my lady bits, and all was well. I'm not really self conscious about my lady bits, so wasn't that big of a deal to me. I honestly spent more time waiting for her to come back in while she waited for me to dress/undress than anything else. We both knew what I was there for. And she gave it to me: a prescription for a birth control pill and cramping pain reliever.
I have never been so happy.
Also, I think that birth control is a misleading term. It's a hormone pill that women use, honestly, more for non-birth control related things than they use it for birth control. Birth control is just a side effect. This is why politics about it (which include a lot of MEN deciding which medicine a WOMAN should use) irritate me so much. There are no words to express my anger about this issue. Especially now that my well-being is at risk if the legislation of men passes. It means I go back to a week of uncontrollable pain and spending the rest of the month dreading the recurrence of the pain. It seriously takes over my life like that.
But no more, because I have the medicine to fix me! And the insurance to keep getting it! Pain free, blemish free, crazy wacko me free months, here I come!
It is now safe to resume reading this blog. I promise no more discomfort about womanly woman things.
In other words, I go back to school soon! In a month. It actually makes me a little nervous, which is odd because I've been yearning to go back from the moment that I left. I guess it's just taking that plunge of self-reliance in a land that my family is too far away from to really help me if I get into a situation that I need help in.
But I get my own room! And I have a job! And I'm taking a NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE class! And SHAKESPEARE!
Excuse me while I run away to college.
Let me explain. Also, here's my warning: This is a womanly blog post about very womanly things. If you are a man (which I highly doubt, as men have no interest in my blog), or talking about very womanly things makes you uncomfortable, please drop down to the section below the next bolded sentence where I tell you everything is now safe to read.
Beautiful Mother Nature, in all her divine wonder, has blessed me with all the intense blessings of womanhood at the beginning of every month.
And when I say intense blessings, what I really mean is a drop-kick in the vagina.
From the time of junior high I've had intense cramps during my period. At first, over-the-counter pain medications would do the trick for me. Then they got worse. And then I had to use extra-strength Midol. And then it got even worse. And then I had a knee surgery where they gave me Percocet to ease my suffering. Things got better. And then they got so very worse when the Percocet ran out. And the extra-strength Midol stopped working. So I tried Naproxen Sodium (essentially what they use in Midol to kill your pain). And then that stopped working so back to over-the-counter it was. And then my cramps got so bad that they not only lasted for four days and left me curled up on my bed crying and begging for death, they gave me fatigue, nausea, and morning sickness the week before.
Not pleasant. (Just about as pleasant is that paragraph with TWILIGHT-levels of annoying grammar. In my case, non-varying sentence length and the ever-present anaphora).
I decided that enough was enough, and that it was time to go see a lady-doctor (read: gynecologist). Mainly for birth control pills. I had asked around and found that most of my friends already took them, and not only did it help with their cramps, but it also helped with their skin and their mood swings, two things I'm desperately in need of help in fixing.
The gynecologist visit wasn't that bad. Because I'm in Kentucky and I'm not sexually active, my gynecologist (rather, the nurse practitioner that could see me sooner) didn't really have anything to do. So I put the big sheet on, she checked my lady bits, and all was well. I'm not really self conscious about my lady bits, so wasn't that big of a deal to me. I honestly spent more time waiting for her to come back in while she waited for me to dress/undress than anything else. We both knew what I was there for. And she gave it to me: a prescription for a birth control pill and cramping pain reliever.
I have never been so happy.
Also, I think that birth control is a misleading term. It's a hormone pill that women use, honestly, more for non-birth control related things than they use it for birth control. Birth control is just a side effect. This is why politics about it (which include a lot of MEN deciding which medicine a WOMAN should use) irritate me so much. There are no words to express my anger about this issue. Especially now that my well-being is at risk if the legislation of men passes. It means I go back to a week of uncontrollable pain and spending the rest of the month dreading the recurrence of the pain. It seriously takes over my life like that.
But no more, because I have the medicine to fix me! And the insurance to keep getting it! Pain free, blemish free, crazy wacko me free months, here I come!
It is now safe to resume reading this blog. I promise no more discomfort about womanly woman things.
In other words, I go back to school soon! In a month. It actually makes me a little nervous, which is odd because I've been yearning to go back from the moment that I left. I guess it's just taking that plunge of self-reliance in a land that my family is too far away from to really help me if I get into a situation that I need help in.
But I get my own room! And I have a job! And I'm taking a NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE class! And SHAKESPEARE!
Excuse me while I run away to college.
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