America the Beautiful

And the beautifully cruel.

The current presidential election season has roused strong emotions. It seems that none of those emotions are going to do America any good though. The political climate has been rocky for years. I can't remember the last time I heard anything good said about politicians.

I understand that the house I was raised in leans towards being conservative and extremely distrustful of authority figures. It was only recently that I found out none of my friends parents would quiz them on appropriate behavior for being arrested. Every time we watched a cop show as a family my dad would mute the commercials and ask us what to say if we had been arrested for those crimes. The answer was the same every time.

"I want a lawyer."

Say nothing else, not even your name until you get a lawyer.

In retrospect it seems a little strange that my dad would be so adamant about this particular problem. Was he expecting us to be a family of bad criminals. Bad as in they are always getting caught, because good criminal don't get caught, that's what makes them good. Or was he just preparing us to live in world were people are persecuted for not following the norm. Because if that was the case it would make a lot of sense.

I don't even have any answers, it's just something that has been bothering me for a while now.

Rules

I was talking with a friend recently and kind of made on off hand joke about rules to live life by, only it really wasn't a joke. I've never sat down and written out the basic rules I follow, but I definitely have a set of parameters for my interactions with other people. Ones I realized I have not been following recently, and it has caused problems. These 'rules' aren't really short, pithy statements about life and how to get through it easily so much as they are statements that should be obvious.

For your enjoyment.

Miche's rules for life

1. Accept people for who and what they are

2. If at all possible to do not have expectations

Expectations lead directly to disappointment when they aren't met.

3. Pay attention when someone is willing to teach you something

You never know when something might come in handy later, the more you know the easier it will be to problem solve (which will hopefully get you a job).

So long 2015, I really hated you.

Today is the last day of 2015 and I am so very, very glad it's going to be over. I hated this year. Looking back on all the things that have happened doesn't bring back cherry, heart warming memories. It brings back pain, loss and agony.

Several people dear to me died this year. We weren't necessarily the closest of friends, we were definitely not confidants, but they had been a back ground part of my life for years. When one person dies it's a tragedy, when another one dies it's heart breaking, when people die every couple of weeks or months it's numbing.

The worst part of death is watching my friends fall to pieces and having no idea how to help them. All the words I know mean nothing in the face of loss. I don't know how to support someone who's grieving. What can you do?

And so, it's with great pleasure I say good bye to 2015. May there never be another year like this one.

Continuing Education

Baring any unforeseen events, I will be going back to school this fall. I have incredibly mixed feelings about this. There is a part of me that feels like this is just a huge waste of time; that I am not going to gain anything new and I just need to accept the fact I wont ever work anything but a dead end job. Because I clearly have not learned anything since graduating college.

I miss the person I used to be. I miss her dreams. I miss her starry eyed wonder at life.

Letting go of dreams and goals is difficult. It hurts. The realization that the only thing you have ever wanted isn't going to happen. Every sacrifice that seemed so necessary and now isn't. The time I could have spent with friends. All of the little experiences I missed out on. I try to live life with few regrets. Being able to move past painful events means taking the time to mourn.

If everything had gone as planned I would have been graduating with a Masters this year. I would have a finished manuscript in the process of being published. I would be living in a tiny house in Arizona with a library instead of a bedroom. I would be traveling, writing and loving life.

The worst part is knowing it's all my fault. I didn't do everything possible to make it happen. I was to stressed out, I was to busy with work or I finally had a day off and didn't feel like trying.

I've had four years to accomplish something, anything, and I have nothing. I have done nothing to pursue my dream. I have been so terrified of failure and the unknown that I lost the ability to live. The dream was to big. I can no longer call myself a writer, because I do not write.

This is me saying goodbye to that dream. This is me saying goodbye to a younger more naive me.

I am not entirely sure what I am going to aim for now, I don't have a new dream to pursue. I do have an idea of what I want out of life and to get that I need to go back to school. I have always done better with short term goals and if I have learned anything as an adult it is to play to strengths. I know going back to school is going to feel weird, I know how difficult it will be and I know I won't have a problem. I also know that no matter how grumpy I am feeling about it right now I am going to love it once I get started.

Because ... Money.

I am job hunting.

Unfortunately it appears my hunting gear is not high enough quality. I need to get a bigger net to capture them in. Which seems unfair (gasp, life is never unfair). I have great qualifications.

I will show up on time (ish), I will not smell and I will not be drunk.

Is that not a good enough reason to hire me?
What does it matter what my life goals are?
What does it matter where I have worked before?
Why do you care where I am going to be in five years?
Or ten?

Really.

No one knows. I feel like being punished for having vague goals is not acceptable. Would I like to have a white picket fence and 2.5 children?

Not really.

Does it change anything about me that I want a library attached to a fantastic bar?

Nope.

What life choices I make have no bearing on my work ethic. I inherited my work ethic from parents who are workaholics; from siblings who are perfectionists. I used to think I had no work ethic, or that it wasn't very good. Kind of like a day old salad, edible but weirdly wilted. I maintained that belief until I got out my childhood bubble. The first job I held as an adult showed me how very wrong I was. I am not a workaholic, I am not a perfectionist, I do believe in doing things in a timely manner and correctly. I am being paid to provide a service and it behooves me to get it done to the best of my ability in the shortest amount of time as possible. It is not my right to work. I am not entitled to employment. If I am doing an unsatisfactory job then I should be fired.

This is not a commonly held view point.

If more interviews and applications asked questions along those lines I would already have a job. Instead I get questions about my life plans, of which I have none, and when I can't answer or when they see through the bullshit answers I am done. They move on to the next applicant who still believes, naively, that life will actually allow a master plan. Those poor dears. Life happens and plans fall apart. It's much easier to adapt plans if they aren't hammered down in concrete and dreams.

This is how I feel after getting the "We decided to go with a more qualified candidate, but please apply to similar positions when they are posted on our site" email.

I am a wizard.

I have reached a new level of stupid

I am not a fan of bad customer service. And by bad customer service I mean these new automated answering systems that make you talk back to them. Because when you say snarky, very sarcastic things under your breath the automated lady voice thinks you're talking to her. To be fair, I was talking to her. I just didn't realize she'd respond with -

"I didn't understand what you said. To repeat this message say 'repeat' or press one."

It took about five minutes into the call for me to be offered a press a number option. Why? None of the options on the "speak to me now" menu were what I needed. I needed the "I am unbelievably stupid, please help" option. This is a great option. It should be an option on the website of every business. It means I have screwed up in a new and slightly surprising way. I need to talk to a real person to get this figured out.

The worst part was when I called back. After hanging up in a rage induced fit of pique. The evil lady, instead of saying her usual spiel, asked if I was calling about a package with this tracking number. I should have just said no, instead I said yes and got the whole "this package was not deliverable and is being returned to the original sender."

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Repeatedly.

I feel an explanation of events is now in order. I have recently(ish) moved in with a friend. I have also recently(ish) gotten a new pair glasses. The glasses arrived about a week after I had moved. Instead of driving the ten hours it takes to get home I asked my mother to mail them to me. In a moment of unbelievable stupidity I gave her the wrong mailing address. The address I gave her doesn't exist outside of Google Maps. Yeah. I fail hard.

My mother, being the reason behind half my DNA, put the wrong address on the shipping label. My parents had also recently(ish) moved. To make a long, dramatic story kind of short. It got lost in the mailing system for a few days but eventually got taken back to the post office in Wyoming, where my mom picked it up. A few days and addresses later I got my new glasses. They are pretty nice.

The only reason we got it worked out is because I called a random post office and they gave me the number for the people I needed to call. Talking to an actual person is so much easier.

I'm the baby, you gotta love me

My lovely siblings have been taking great care of me since I haven't really been able to walk the last few days. Well, I can walk but it's super painful and if I walk a lot I start to leave a blood trail. It's just not a good idea.

For the most part the food has been edible. There was an incident with easy mac and cheese that didn't go over so well. It had sat in the microwave for too long and lost all the water. I was mostly passed out on the couch when my brother mixed it up. He asked if it needed water and I said no. I'd forgotten that water evaporates. Everything ended okay because my mother made me Gold Fish mac and cheese. It was cute and delicious.

Fishies (Photo)

Thankfully my older sister made me a salad so I have eaten something healthy in the last few days. Pretty sure it's the only healthy thing I've eaten.

I did get some interesting, but yummy french toast for  breakfast. My brother made it. I was not entirely sure it was going to end well. I kept hearing questionable noises coming from the kitchen. The most disturbing was when he asked if it was supposed to look like that. Since I was lounging (in a rather foul temper) on the couch and couldn't actually see the kitchen I had no way of answering. It's been really odd to have him cook for me since if it's just the two of us at home I do the cooking.

It looked a lot like this, but flatter (Photo)

The best thing was when I asked my brother to get me a cup of coffee. I have a French press. He took the lid off and freaked out when he saw the coffee grounds. He didn't realize the plunger thing needed to be pressed down. In his defense he avoids all coffee and necessary equipment for making coffee. I got to talk him through the actions for a French press. Mostly that you have to push the plunger down slowly. He also took the lid of the creamer instead of popping the top up. Just unscrewed the whole thing.

This is real hard to use.

But mostly I've just eaten a lot a macaroni and cheese. It's my go to comfort food when I feel bad or am stressed.

I tried to decapitate my toe

Yesterday afternoon we were getting ready for a picnic when I cut open the bottom of my toe/foot area. It was highly unpleasant. And kind of embarrassing. My mom asked me to grab something from the pantry (our pantry is like 10 feet tall). It was barely out of my reach. Instead of taking the minute or so of time to move stuff around and set up the step ladder I decided to be time efficient and just jump up and grab it.

In retrospect it does seem like a dumb decision. However, I have lived in this house for over a year and jumped up to grab items on numerous occasions. At the time it seemed a reasonable action to take.

I landed on something and it hurt. It felt like a paper cut, a sharp stabbing pain. I looked down, this was possibly another mistake. Blood had gushed out of my foot all over the floor. There was a small puddle of blood on the pantry floor that was getting bigger while I put pressure on my foot. I turned my foot over and could see into my toe. A flap of skin had popped open, it looked like someone had tried to peel all the skin off. I freaked out.

My family members all rushed to the kitchen to see what they could do to help. After looking at the wound they decided it needed stitches. They bandaged up the toe in an attempt to stop the bleeding and took my to InstaCare.

Unfortunately the place was located in an intersection that is under construction. Traffic was at a standstill and we took the side roads, which ended up being blocked off and we did a circle around the building before getting to the lot. My father was driving and was not happy with the traffic. I was sitting in the middle of the back seat with my foot propped up on the passenger side seat. I did what most people do. I texted my best friends a picture of my bandaged foot. Responding to their messages kept me from freaking out about getting stitches. I have never had stitches before. 

The clinic was basically empty. I am assuming it's because of the horrible traffic. I got in to see a doctor in what is probably record time. I am almost positive you can't really read my handwriting on the information form. I probably should have had my father fill it out, but it's a little late for that.

The nurse was very nice. I remember she had on these light blue cowboy boots and black scrubs. She also had a really nice voice when she said my heart rate was elevated. Had I not been in so much pain it would have been funny in a I wan to punch you sort of way.

Had that nurse been the doctor things would have gone better. He came in and it all went down hill from there. He was an older, heavy man with a slow, wanna be Texas drawl. (I say want to be because it's Wyoming and most people from Wyoming who try and effect a Texas drawl don't do it right.) After looking at my foot he declared it a superficial lesion slapped two bandages on it and sent me home.

It was slightly more involved than that but the whole visit couldn't have taken more than fifteen minutes. I have a gouge out of the bottom of my toe and slice out of the side. The side cut almost looks like my skin just burst open. It's disturbing to look at. What's slightly more disturbing is that the bottom gouge connects to the side slice so that half of my toe skin can flap up.

I spent most of the examination gritting my teeth and trying not to bitch every time his pudgy fingers poked the open wound. For some reason the doctor did not realize, or possibly care, that it was really only one cut. He kept saying it didn't need stitches. Now it is possible there was nothing to keep the stitches in and they would only cause more problems but that isn't what he said. The doctor also told me I would be able to walk on it with out any problems. He only told me that after I asked. He also said I could take ibuprofen or Tylenol but didn't say how often or how much. Which I found highly irritating because I try to never take pain medicine if I could to something else to alleviate the pain, like drinking more water or eating something different.

By the time I got home I had already bled through the bandages the doctor had put on. I was so tempted to call them back and bitch at him. He had specified, the only thing he'd actually told me to do, that I needed to change the bandages once a day for the next ten days or so. When I'd asked if I would need to do more than that he'd said in a very snooty voice, "Once a day will be fine."

Subtext "I am the doctor, this is not a real problem."

You know when you can just hear what someone is saying?

That's what happened then. The doctor had decided I was a young woman who came in because of a little cut. Problem solved.

Even the nurse asked if he should look at it from another angle. If you are a doctor what would it hurt to have another look at something? It would have taken less then a minute and might have possibly made my life a little easier. It's not like he had another patient to look at.

Instead of him doing his job my mother has bandaged up my toe and I've been on bed rest. Which is very boring. Very boring. And quite possibly the only reason I wrote this post. Because every time I get up and walk around blood starts leaking all over the place. It's messy and disgusting.

Super Bowls and Food Stamps.

Bread and Circuses.

Sound familiar?

It should. Many history teachers preach on the subject. How governments give the people distractions to keep them content. It's a sleight of hand technique to keep control.

All that being said. I have no problem with the Super Bowl. I like watching it; the commercials are always interesting. I am not a sports person. I don't play them and I never watch a game. The whole thing is uninteresting to me. I'd rather be reading a book. I understand that they are important to other people, some of my close friends and family members are huge fans of football. Honestly, it's more fun to watch them watching a game then to watch it myself. They get so into it.

I also have no problem with food stamps. Sure, some people are working the system but there is always going to be a group of individuals that game the system.

It's what con men, grifters, do.

I've been called naive for believing that. For believing in the goodness of people. I don't want to believe we have become so depraved that everyone one food stamps shouldn't be. I don't want to believe we've lost that much. America has always been a country of values and I refuse to believe it has changed. The values may have changed (of course), that's part of growing up, maturity adds a new perspective to life.

If nothing had changed since the founding I wouldn't be able to vote. I am a women. I am an educated women. If nothing had changed my life would have been different.

Superficially my life would have been much the same. I would still be a women, I would still have gone to college, I would still be able to think. But I wouldn't be allowed to do anything about it. I wouldn't be me. I would have grown up in a culture constantly telling me I am inferior, I am  not good enough. That I will never be good enough. Because of my gender.

It's almost laughable.
Except that it's not funny when it happens.
Not going to lie. I got a lot of that already. It just would have been exponentially worse.

I'd like to think that I would have been a spinster working in a library. That is if I was born before women were allowed to be equal. By equal I mean legally. The unwritten rules have taken longer to change. They always do.

I can't tell you how happy I am to live in a world where my opinions are valid; where I can be both an intellectual and a women. It's such a refreshing idea, women can think logically (please note that's mostly sarcastic).

But more than anything else I am happy my value is not based on relationships. I do not have to be a wife to have value. I do not have to be mother to have value. I am an asset because of my brain. Because of my work ethic. Because of my humor. Because I am a valuable individual.

I am.

Anything I want to be.
Anything I want to become.
Anything I work hard enough for.

I am a women and that is enough.

And if I am naive for believing in the goodness of people at least I am happy in my naivete.

My original point was that we can't complain about stupid government decisions when we elected  the people making those choices. (I don't care if you didn't vote for that president/governor/senator/mayor/congressperson; they got elected by the majority. Deal with it) Don't bitch when you don't care enough to research the people you elect. If you don't like the direction the country is going, do something about it. You are an important part of this era and your choices make an impact.

If you're wondering what one person can do to change a country take a look at the names below:
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Rosa Parks
Mahatma Gandhi
Nelson Mandela
Mother Teresa

All of those people had huge impacts on the world. They changed the fabric of their cultures. Forever.

Here are some more individuals who've had an impact on cultures, eve if it is more oblique (and not always a good thing):
William Shakespeare
Mark Twain
J.K. Rowling
Stephanie Meyer
Suzanne Collins
Joss Whedon

They all started out with an idea, a dream, something they couldn't give up. Something to live for. Regular, everyday, people who didn't give up.

Being an adult is hard.

What does love mean?
It's a word. One that is, if I am being entirely honest, dropped way to often. Way to often. Do you really love that person, or are do you want to own them?

I've had similar thoughts floating through my head lately. I don't know what I think love is anymore. I can recognize it, or what I would define as love. But I'm not sure I am seeing what's really there.

I love my family. And I don't particularly care what they do. I have no say in their dreams or hopes or futures. I can give my unsolicited opinion (I do this frequently, even if most of the time it doesn't leave my own head). But is that really something someone who loves you does?

When I was in high school I had a boyfriend I loved. Or at least I thought I loved him. I felt utterly destroyed when we broke up. Just thinking back on it is enough to make me shudder. Most of what I feel now is embarrassment that I would ever let another person have that much control of my emotions. That I would let myself fall apart over a boy. The anger I felt over that break up lasted for years. It almost cost me a friendship (and that is funny story, even if the events are traumatic). All of those emotions I barely managed to keep a lid on came out anyways. It seeped out and stained my world view.

Making friends is difficult if every new person I meet I consider a potential safety hazard. Letting people get close, letting my guard down, tends to end in messy ways. I've had two best friends since college and it's been hellish keeping those relationships. I hate the phone. I don't check facebook often enough and I basically never check my e-mail. My preferred method of communication is letters. Or my blog (which has clearly not been used enough in the last year).

My sad, pathetic excuse is that I don't blog about work. Since all I do is work and read it would make an exceptionally boring blog. This is all true.

It's also true that I have a crazy bent towards philosophy and I like bashing in preconceived stupidity. I can't stand catchall comments and I have to almost physically stop myself from yelling when it turns derogatory. No matter what someone believes, thinks, expresses, wears or looks like they are human and deserve to be treated with respect. Even if they aren't present.

Phrases like these drive me crazy:
Those Christians
Those homosexuals
Those liberals
Those conservative
Those Republicans
Those Democrats
Those Milennials
Those Welfare receivers
Those people

You know what I'm talking about. The statement that is made with complete conviction that "those people" are some how less. Some how not human. We define certain characteristics, group individuals together and then start to seem them as less. The very act of grouping causes us to just see the minute part of their beliefs we dislike and not the individual. It's easy to hate something I dislike, it becomes incredibly easy to hate a person if all I see is a group label.

I am one of those Milennials. The ones that doesn't work full-time. Because I am ...

You can fill in the rest. You've probably been called something similar recently. Labeled, correctly, judged harshly and left to stand alone with no one listening to you.

Sometimes all people have are excuses. And sometimes people have interesting stories. A story I'll never hear if I'm not willing to stop and listen.

I'll tell you what I know about the Milennials.
We are lazy, for a value of lazy that means we don't want to waste time.
Most of us are over educated and under payed.
We've almost lost the ability to believe in a better future.
Because we are scrambling just to survive.
But we haven't given up yet and we won't.
Because we know that hard work and relentless commitment will get us to the goal.
We still believe in possibility because we've seen it over and over and over all whole lives.
We've grown up with terrorism, school shootings and war.
We know the value of a life.

And this all brings me back to love. If we love people how can we judge them so harshly. Why aren't we willing to stop for a moment and listen. To let go of childhood prejudices and communicate as adults.

I hate subpar service

I do not want whipped cream.
I do not want a larger size.
I do not want fries.
I do not want any of that crap.
Further more if I did want it I would tell you.
But mostly I really, really, really do not want that fucking whipped cream. NO.

This is not my first time at this establishment, but if you keep asking me asinine questions it might be my last. The last few times I've gone to Starbucks they have put whipped cream on my latte. I don't dislike whipped cream but I don't like it on my lattes. I don't really like it on anything, when I do eat whipped cream it tends to be on pumpkin pies and only on pumpkin pies. Or just a bowl of whipped cream, totally healthy.

My last visit to Starbucks was a super unpleasant experience. They said the chocolate chai latte was super good. They lied. Shit was super gross. Granted I should have known better since I haven't had a good chai latte from Starbucks ever (iced or a frappuccino is okay, but still not as good as a homemade one). Adding the chocolate, which turns out is the mocha mix, was a horrible idea. They only good mocha is either peppermint or white chocolate. The straight up mocha is disgusting (at all coffee places). Thankfully the barista was more then willing to give me a different drink for free. Unfortunately she kept asking me if I really only wanted a black coffee. Dude. Asking once makes sense, but if you keep saying "Are yous sure" it's a good way to get hot coffee thrown in your face. Yes, goddamn, I am sure. If I didn't want it why would I ask. All of the lattes are terrible, the tea is gross leaving black coffee as the only palatable menu item.

Which, quite frankly, is sad. Because everyone knows Starbucks coffee is brunt to the ninth hell. And lots of people like that. I am not a big fan, but at least the burnt taste is consistent.

Back to the bad experience. All I wanted was to sit, surf the internet and enjoy a cup of coffee. They have three outlets in the entire store, at least ones customers can reach. Someone was sitting by each one. Which is kind of douche of the people, I always thought there was some unwritten rule about not sitting by outlets unless you needed them. Guess that's just me. If you are a coffee house you really should have more than three outlets. Like, really, what the hell. All in all I would rate that experience at a two on a scale of five. It could have been worse but I still ended up leaving to find someplace with outlets and internet. Both of which put me in a super pissy mood.

Starbucks you fail here.

So to all of the business' out in the world. Stop asking asinine questions and just give me exactly what I ordered. It's not that damn hard.

A new family member joins the clan

Earlier this week my sister had her baby boy. It's very exciting. This is the first time one of my siblings had a kiddo. It's a little weird, but mostly just awesome.

Here is a picture of my cat, Beast, because I haven't gotten pictures of the baby yet. He had to go the hospital today to check for jaundice. It's a little nerve wracking, having someone so little that I love so much. Knowing that I can't do anything to keep him safe is uncomfortable. I kind of understand why some parents are control freaks.

Living in the eye

It seems like it's been forever since the last time I wrote anything. Not just on my blog, but for short stories and just for fun. It's like my brain just shut down. No more energy, no more writing. Part of that was because I had the worlds oldest computer (it was running Windows XP and had like maybe 70 gigs on the hard drive) and the other part was a lack of anything good to write about. I really dislike people who are constantly bitching about how shitty their lives are. I feel like they either need to stop fishing for compliments or do some serious thinking about who their friends are.

Not that horrific things don't happen to good people with loving, supporting friends. But it always seemed to me that the people who bitch the most have friends who inflame the drama. And no. Say no to drama. And crazy people. Love the crazy people and stay far from their drama. Eventually everyone has to grow up. At least that is what I keep telling myself. That and "I do what I want" are my two new catch phrases.

Several months ago my computer went down in flaming glory. My cat jumped on my bed and the computer fell off. The internal fan broke. I could only run the computer for about ten minutes before it overheated and died. Every time I watched the screen go dark a thread of terror went through me, thinking I had finally lost all my files. Luckily I backed up my computer way before this happened. Mostly cuz it was hella old and I expected it to stop working at anytime. So the horror was completely ridiculous. Doesn't mean I didn't freak out every singly time it happened. I am awesome that way.

Thankfully my family is fabulous and I now own a newish computer. It's really pretty with it's glowing green keyboard and blue alien head. Makes me happy. Which is something that I should work towards more often. Seems like not a lot makes me happy anymore. Not that I am angry and depressed all the time, it just sort of feels like all emotions are surface emotions. They sort of chill and then slowly fade into the background leaving me feeling slightly off kilter. The best way I have to describe what I have been feeling is sleepy. It's like I've not really been awake for the last year. Not numb and not no emotion; just sort of a placid lake. Eventually I will have to dive back into the chaos of life, but right now I'm just chilling.

Some might call it being content. They would be wrong. I am not content with my life. I feel like I have accomplished nothing since graduating college. Over two years ago I stood in front of a large crowd, wearing the polyester tent of doom (also known as a gown) with a noose around my neck (a hood, I still don't understand the purpose of that) and the worlds worst designed hat on my head (the tassel has a gravitational pull towards mouths), I was then handed the most expensive piece of paper ever. It feels that way when I go to pay off student loans every month.

And then what happened?

I spent months looking for a job in my field. I found nothing. At least nothing I was qualified to do. I needed to have at least three years work experience, five would be preferred, or I needed to be a college student. Or a college student. That hellishly expensive paper meant I didn't get a single letter or call from perspective employers. The magical line had been crossed and I was stuck in shitoutofluckville. Still am. The no-mans land of work experience. Not enough to mean anything paired with too much education. It royally sucks.

Most of my friends have had this experience for themselves. They have had to pull themselves out of the depression that builds as they watch their dreams go down in flames. In the last two years I have witnessed the change, the untold heroics of perseverance. I have stood by in awe, watching as my friends pulled themselves together and kept going. Waking up every morning, going into a job they hated because it was the only way to get slightly closer to their goals. I have watched as they beat against walls, searching desperately for any way through. I have watched as they realized that they'd have to build their own doors. From there I've watched some give up, but mostly I've watched as they knocked down the obstacles. Nothing is as beautiful as a person who keeps chasing their dreams. They are the living inspiration for my life. Those are the people I want to emulate. I want resolve. I want to stand behind a table signing copies of my book, the one with a Newberry Honor stamp on the cover, and tell them they can do it too.

Well. That sucked.

That awkward moment when you just got out of the shower and can't remember if you actually washed your hair or just got it wet. It seems like the older I've gotten the more things slip through the cracks. I just don't remember. Sometimes because it didn't happen and others cuz it wasn't important when I was doing whatever. I'm not sure this is a recent problem, but I can be in the same room and just not hear what's being said. Family plans will be made and I will have no idea because I wasn't paying attention. I was definitely wrapped in my own problems. Sadly that just causes more problems.

"We told you."
"You didn't."
"You were in the room when we talked about it."
"...."

After several years of this happening you'd think people (mostly family members) would realize they need to ask me if I heard. Not just assume I was listening to the conversation. I can hold mostly complete conversations and not remember them. If my attention if focused on something else it's gone.

What people should see when I'm not listening.

I can actually listen to what is being said, just some days it takes more energy than I want to use. Being lazy can cause all sorts of unanticipated problems. On the bright side, if you don't care about being left out of group meetings and pissing off all your extended family members, it really is a much easier way of life.

Buddha is my copilot

It's a literal statement. I have a Buddha statue bookend that a friend gave me (read: I absconded with it) and  have as yet to take into my temporary abode. Temporary because if I don't use that word I get all depressed and feel like a failure for living in my parents basement after getting a college degree. A degree I haven't really used in the last year. Because I am the ultimate in lazy. And exhausted.

There are so many things I took for granted when growing up. Ideas, mostly, but other things. Like the fact that I have parents who let me make my own mistakes. People who let me grow into an adult without the horrors of clinging parents. I will admit that some days I almost wish I'd had parents who took a large interest in me as a teenager. And then I realize how obnoxious and over bearing and irritating that would have been and I am unbelievably thankful my parents have brains. Not that clingy parents don't have brains; they just don't use them.

Complete candor. I thought I was done with the whole social awkwardness thing after high school. And to an extent that's true. It's just awkward in new and unpleasant ways. Like explaining how I really don't want to be in a serious relationship. I really will never be going back to church (exceptions being family events: baptisms and stuff) and while I am thankful I grew up in a minority, conservative religion it is not something I subscribe to anymore. Growing up in a minority group, and it is a minority group even though it has nothing to do with ethnicity or race, can give people a better understanding of love and compassion. Those two ideas have been the prominent cornerstones of my life so far and will continue to be the ideal I measure life by.

All of which is a last ditch effort to keep my family members and friends from being too judgmental when I say that I am not a Christian. Nor will I be leaning that direction for decades, if not the rest of my life. A few people will read this and not be at surprised; the rest will be mildly disappointed but not overly shocked. I really hope there is no one who reads this and is completely shock. If you are completely gobsmacked take comfort in the fact that we must not be friends, or even remote acquaintances anymore.

A large part of me wants to just bury this post, delete it and pretend that everything is fine. And that would be wrong. Both to myself and my family. I have been told I'm brutally honest. Something I've been working to change, honesty is good but brutal honesty can be deadly. Certain situations require tact or just straight up silence. For the last two years I assumed this would be the best case scenario. Just keep quite, don't speak up and don't disappoint anyone.

And now we get to the real problem. I have a fantastic family (a little crazy, but totally awesome) and friends who would drop everything if I needed them. I do not want to be a disappointment. I don't want to become just another statistic that gets shown to teenagers in church school about adults that leave the church. The fear is just about crippling. I grew up with these people, went to little one room grade schools, a boarding academy and a college that were all part of one institution, one religion. I know that I could go to any major city in the world and find an Adventist church. Even if I didn't speak the language, wasn't dressed right and was completely inept in their culture they would take me in. No questions asked. Because we shared a religion. It's kind of awe-inspiring.

When looking back on it I am surprised I could walk away like I did. Granted it wasn't very far and very, very few people knew. And now I guess more do.

Basically what I'm saying is that I can't lie to people anymore. Even by omission. And then asking very nicely that you not hate me.

But mostly it's a huge thank you to Justin. You are possibly the most brave person I know.
And a thank you to Bex, for not letting me crawl into a hole and pretend the world doesn't exist.

Ultimate lazy in blogging.

Here are some fabulous FYAS Owls for your enjoyment. I know I enjoyed reading them.

Hopefully the snarky will return in the following week or so.

Would you like a cucumber, oh wait, that's a zucchini

I did more training at work this week, but this time I got to do the cooking. It was fun, kind of terrifying when you look up and see a whole bunch of tickets hanging and you can't read the hand writing very well and you aren't sure how to make the orders. All things considered it went okay. None of the orders got messed up and everyone seemed happy and full when they left. Being a restraunt we really can't ask for more. Just happy costumers and really good food.

The most difficult part was not getting pickle juice all over the sandwiches. We use a lettuce leaf, an orange slice and a pickle as a garnish. It looks good, tastes good and has a bad habit of getting pickle juice all over the plate and coincidentally the sandwiches we put on the plate.

I guess this might have been more amusing if I'd already posted the stories about the espresso machine. That just means you get to anticipate the awesomeness. Hopefully that will get done sometime this week... I see you judging me. And I'd have to agree. Probably not going to happen.

Coming soon. Why adding avocado to a panini can make a mess.

mmm. A surprisingly soon fail

I wish I could say I had a bunch of stuff to blog about. And I do, sort of. This last week at work was kind of crazy. I ended up working 8.5-9 hours most days with practically no breaks. Not that I couldn't have taken a break, but it always feels like if I sit down shit is not going to get done. Sadly that is very true. The things I planned to blog about ended up not happening because of timing and really, really shitty internet. I can't even begin to express how sloooooow it is.

Although all that aside, today was like the day from hell. Not even joking. It started around 3 or 5 this morning when my cat would not shut up... If it wasn't for the fact that I don't believe in animal abuse and that I don't own a gun I would have shot the stupid thing. Okay that's not true. I wouldn't have shot Beast even if I did own a gun. But it does make me think I need to buy a spray bottle and squirt him when he goes off. It's sooo irritating.

Starting off the morning with a lack of sleep is horrible, what's even worse is when you keep walking up a pathetic mewling meow. And then realizing you slept past your alarm clock and have less then twenty minutes to get dressed and to work. When it takes about 20 minutes to get to work on a good day. It was not a pleasant start. And it only got worse when I couldn't find my glasses. And then I couldn't find my keys... Even after trashing my room I couldn't find them. I ended up going to work with my spare car key. Work was one disaster after another. I kept getting the orders wrong and knocking glasses full of liquid on the floor.

Thankfully I got to go home early and take a much needed breather before my aikido class that night. I ended up finding my keys buried in my bedding. Who sleeps with their keys? I mean, really. I almost nailed a freaking shopping cart in the middle of the high way on my way to class. I am so thankful I didn't, but still. Why the hell was their a freaking shopping card in the dark in the middle of road with a relatively high speed limit.

Then I ended up not even finishing this post for almost a week. That week just knocked me out of my routine and I just could not find the energy to care about blogging. Which in turn kind of stressed me out. Funny how everything manages to get more stressful when one thing goes wrong.

High school Mishi

It has recently dawned on my that I was crazy in high school. And not for the usual reasons. I thought I was super fat in high school, having graduated from college being a good chunk heavier I know that to be false. But I don't think I ever had clothes that fit right. A few months back (last November) we moved into a new house and I have slowly been going through super old boxes. I've found several outfits that fit correctly, but I bought them in high school... I clearly had no idea how to dress in high school.

Thankfully I had a few wonderful friends who pulled me out of my dike phase. It was unpleasant. The pictures are awful. But at least the clothes were comfy. Even if I did look like a more mature version of Justin Beiber. Okay so that isn't really true, but it's a rather amusing comparison.

Anyway, it was a nice change to put on clothes that fit instead of finding them to small. That always really sucks. Especially if they used to be baggy. Talk about a major ego bust. I used to keep clothes that were to small because "I was going to loose weight" and be able to fit in them again. Yeah. Talk about majorly delusional. If I do loose a bunch of weight it means I deserve to buy myself new clothes.