Lizards and Logs

I worked the Forth of July this year. I was supposed to work a seven hour shift, but we ended up closing early. That was fine with me, because there was hardly anyone in the store all day long.

While I was sweeping the aisles, I saw a plastic lizard on the ground. I leaned down to grab it by the tail and move it to the toy aisle, where it belonged. When my fingers touched it, the lizard jumped straight up in the air and landed back down where it had been before, in the same position. I also jumped. ‘Hm,’ I thought to myself, ‘I must have bumped it.’ This time, when I went in to grab the lizard, I got it by the head, and it started to squirm.

The live, baby lizard, made it safely outside.

I put my log in my fish tank a few days ago, and the tannins from the log are leaking into the water, making it look like tea. This delights my fish, because he is from a part of the world where the waters are very murky. He didn’t like having the water be super clear; it made him feel vulnerable and weak. I am going to do some heavy water changes over the next few days, and then I’ll be ready to add new friends. I think I might go with these fat bodied, red-eyed little tetras instead of the glo-lights I was thinking about before.

I also want to buy a large snail.

Logs and Buttons

In my bedroom, I have two fish tanks. One is a ten gallon, and currently houses a minnow, who has lived with two crawfish and three ghost shrimp. The other tank is a fifty-five gallon, which currently has one pearl gourami, who used to have two friends of similar persuasion. Over the long winter, while I was in school, I coasted with the tanks. I fed the fish and I cleaned the tanks (replaced water, kept up the basic maintenance on the filters, that sort of thing) but I didn’t do any heavy renovations. Now that summer break is here, though, I’ve started my spring cleaning. I’m most excited about the lager tank, which I am going to be adding at least ten fish to this summer, once I get The Log into the tank.

Last summer I went hiking with my friend, and we found this epic log of awesome, and brought it back to my house. I had every intention of getting it into my tank straight away, but that hasn’t happened. The log is no longer waterlogged, so I will have to weight it down. To that end, I bought a tube of aquarium safe silicone today, and will be buying some rocks on Friday. Then I will use my dad’s saw to cut the log down to a manageable size, and put it into the tank. I can’t wait. Then I’ll add some more plants, and be on my merry way to a beautiful, healthy home for the fishy friends I will buy shortly.

My parents repainted the den this summer, and then bought new carpet and a new sofa. They have completely redone the room. My mom is going to make curtains, and has fabric samples up in the room right now to make her choices. We have a leather love seat, and my parents moved it from one side of the room to the other. My sister’s cat decided this meant it was a gift to him, and he shredded part of the newly exposed back. My dad is furious. He has decreed that the cat is no longer allowed in the den, and he super-glued those soft-paw deals on the cat’s nails, so he can’t scratch anymore. The cat doesn’t understand why he isn’t allowed in the room, because he has of course forgotten his misdeed. I feel a little bad for him.

My favorite jeans popped the button. It wasn’t the kind that gets sewn on, so the peg thing made the hole in the jeans too big, so it wouldn’t stay in. Since that had the potential to be very embarrassing in public, I haven’t been wearing them. Today, though, I bought new buttons and sewed one on. It works perfectly, and it’s like getting a new pair of pants. I’m most pleased with the results. It is a dashing button, too, if I do say so myself.

180 Degrees of Turkey

I’ve been making cards lately. It’s a lot of fun, and I have, in my head, compiled a list of several reasons why this is.

Firstly, it’s easy. There isn’t a lot of prep work involved, and the possibilities are endless.
Secondly, it’s got all of the compositional elements of creating original artwork, but with a whole lot less pressure. I mean, the goal is to have the whole piece be one flowing work, which is pleasing to the eye, but you don’t have the anxiety of actually creating the elements you’re using.
Thirdly, you get to build new and exciting designs each time. It’s like legos, but for grownups. And girls.

Speaking of girls, I realized that going to Tar-shey and looking at makeup without the intent to buy any is a very silly, and girly, thing to do. My boyfriend is a kind, and patient man, though, and he mm’d and yes’d at all the appropriate times.

I don’t mind this 100-degree-+ weather we’ve been having, but the humidity is making me very upset. I bought the boyfriend a nice pair of running shoes today, and on the way to the mall after we left the sporting goods store, it started to rain. This is not normal activity for my area, and so I was left grumpy.

The running shoes have suction cup sort of things on the bottom (in imitation of mountain goats, I’d imagine) and so they make funny sounds on the tile in the kitchen. The boyfriend is most pleased. He is going to be running with his dog and a mutual friend of ours. The dog is one of those squishy faced ones, so he doesn’t do too well on longer jogs. We’ll see how long this arrangement lasts. I wonder if the dog will end up being carried along instead.

Also at Target today, we had a pita thing with turkey, and it actually ended up being quite tasty. Though it does not feel classy to have lunch there, I probably will again.

Screamin' Clean

So I started a twitter today. I'm probably not going to use it so much to broadcast things about my life as I am going to use it to tweet things that I hear around me. So they aren't coming from me, they're being given to me by the world. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to credit all of them or not. It's a work in progress.

In other news, it was really warm today. I'm so delighted. I love the heat. It feels so good, and my skin flourishes.

I'm really into Screamin' Jay Hawkins right this second. He was this blues artist who... screamed. He was pretty neat. I'd recommend giving him an ear. He's got this way of using his whole mouth to make noise that is wildly impressive. He sang I Put A Spell On You, which was in that Disney movie about the witches, although they didn't use his version. Little Demon, though, is way more interesting. I'd defiantly give it a listen. They even have it on youtube, here. According to a commenter on a video on youtube, Screamin' Jay Hawkins had 80 children. I don't know how accurate that is, though.

I was at work, and a regular customer came in. She asked if I had another job yet, and I said no. She then asked what I planned to do. Normally I'd have been a little irritated, because honestly that isn't any of her business. I think, though, that she was just being friendly. Anyway, I told her that I am going to school, and so will simply continue to do that. She asked what I was going to school for, and I told her biology, and she laughed as though this was hysterical. Then she asked if I had a focus, and I said that eventually I'd like it to be evolution and ecology, and she laughed even harder. I suppose I ought to be a little offended, but I'm more nonplussed than anything.

Also strange at work; today I had a lady complement me on how clean the store is. She told me it was neat and tidy. At first I thought this was very strange. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized it made my day. Someone actually noticed all the hard work that we've put in, and they actually gave us some recognition for it. Those shelves don't just sort themselves, and she knew that. I wish I'd realized how awesome the compliment had been when it was given, so that I could have thanked her more enthusiastically.

MJ all day long.

Michael Jackson is dead. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I work at a store which plays a pop-oldies station at all times. I was there when the news broke, too, so I got to hear the DJ lose his mind. This still wouldn’t have affected me very much, but they decided to have a tribute to him. Which I still wouldn’t have cared about, but this particular radio station only had about four songs by Michael Jackson.

Did they play them through once?

No.

They played that same group of songs for three hours, and kept breaking announcements... about how Michael Jackson is still dead.

Then something happened and they either bought an album online or someone ran home and grabbed a CD, and they started playing a variety of songs again.

Kid's and Pimples

I was trying to figure out a way to really relax and enjoy my summer recently. I felt like I was still stressing, and I wasn’t in the moment enough. Then it hit me.

The sinus infection, that is. Being uncomfortably ill for five days really made me feel a lot better about the summer, and I’m starting to really chill out. I’m really looking foreword to work tomorrow.

I like working retail. As much as I might whine about it, there are parts that are fun. For example, yesterday, when I was sick and unhappy and in pain (like a balloon inflating in my face) a lady asked for help in aisle six.

She asked me if I had children.

I look fourteen.

I didn’t respond with as much incredulity as I would have liked, given that I was in pain and at work, but looking back on it, it was pretty funny.

I want to get rid of the pimples on my chin.

Lions and rabbits and bears-- oh my!

Today, I bought dog biscuits for my dogs. They didn’t have the ones I usually buy, so I got this other brand. I didn’t realize it until I got home, but they came in animal shapes. Like those cookies for kindergarteners.

I opened the plastic bag inside the cardboard box thinking, “Oh, cool, I bet they’re like pigs and cows and stuff.”

I was wrong. One dog got a lion. The wimpy dog got a rabbit. I looked at the back of the box, and it also comes with bears.

In other news, I’m done with my classes, and my feet hurt from work.

Smackin' Soda

I got in my car this morning, and started the engine before I remembered that I wanted a soda from the refrigerator in the garage. I got out of my car and pulled one out, but dropped it on the floor. After picking that one up and putting it away, I got an unshaken can out and drove to school. I opened it when I got on the freeway, and drank about half of it in traffic. Once I got to school, I shut of my engine, grabbed my soda, and stepped out of the car. I set the can on the roof while I got my backpack out of the back seat. Then I put my backpack on, and locked the car. I walked to class.

Then I remembered that my soda was still on the roof of the car.

My soda is still on the roof of my car.

Yesterday I smacked my elbow and I bruised it pretty bad. It was one of those doors which closes super fast, but since it was indoors, I wasn’t expecting it, and it got me.

My hair is normally straight, but today, for some reason, it’s wavy. I’m going to blame the humidity.

Bogs and Poodles

At work over the weekend a small child called out, “Mom, mom I found it!”

The mom walked over to the rack and frowned. “That’s not a dingo. That’s a poodle.”

I’m wearing snazzy boots today. The only downside to my boots is that when I walk, they click. There is no avoiding making noise on a cement floor. It makes me sound pretty self important.

I dislike humidity. Days like today, with humidity and ick make my hair go all frizzy, which is not a flattering look for me. I tried to combat it by slathering on the leave-in conditioner, but I don’t think it’s helping.

My professor is talking about bogs, and just as I was thinking, “I’ve never even seen a bog,” she said, “… and if you’re from southern California, you’ve probably never seen a bog.”

Kidney Rings

I got a new cell phone this week, and it’s pretty snazzy. I use my phone as my alarm clock, so I got a new alarm clock by default. Anyway, my new phone works a little differently than my old phone, and so I was awoken by my phone vibrating rather than ringing. It made the whole bed shake, and I woke up ready to kill whoever it was that was calling me. I pushed snooze three times, which meant I got up fifteen minutes late today. It’s okay, though, because my old phone would have made me twenty-four minutes late if I’d pushed snooze three times.

I decided to wear a skirt today, because I bought a pretty one at the junk store, and it’s summery out again. It’s a pink skirt with flowery designs and big swishy whooshes. Anyway, I’m always insecure when I wear skirts.

The worst part is the lack of pockets, though. That’s why I dropped my new phone today, on the cement floor, where it exploded. I put it back together and it seems to be working, but I was a little upset.

I didn’t think of it before I left the house, but I wish I had worn heels today. Well, perhaps not to class, but I wish I put them in my car for later.

If you look at a rat’s kidney, you’ll find it looks remarkably like a fetus.

I did find out that the ring I was wearing the other day, with the silver and turquoise is real, and it belonged to my dad’s cousin before she died. She bred bulldogs.

Someone stomped a lizard on the sidewalk outside of one of my classes that I had yesterday. It was one of those alligator looking ones (but not an alligator lizard) with the super long tail. I don’t understand why someone would do that. Lizards are small, they can’t hurt you, and they are so useful. They eat bugs and spiders and stuff, and they aren’t (mostly) poisonous. It made me very sad.

Tic-tacs and Teeth

When I was little, tic-tacs were like the jackpot of candy goodness. Of course, only the orange flavored ones were worth anything, but when you got them… oh boy.

It wasn’t just that they were delicious candy, because they were. What I liked best was the little plastic box. I have vivid memories of being an explorer in the Amazonian rainforest, with just the one little box of water left to sustain me to the next stream. I’d fill the box from the hose and I would carefully dole out the water to myself as I tromped through the trees, flipping up that little white tab to get a few drops of water.

I’m wearing pants with a lady on the butt, which makes them awesome. The front pockets are fake, though, which makes me sad.

Yesterday I was chewing on a pen as I edited a draft of a peer’s story. It was a click-pen, and the cap had gotten caught so that it was depressed permanently… or so I thought. The plastic plunger popped back and smacked me in the front tooth, chipping it.

That’s right. I chipped my tooth with a plastic pen.

It doesn’t hurt much, but it itches down inside now.

I started up with a new razor blade today and it cut up my leg like you wouldn’t believe.

Ring of Sugar

I had a donut for breakfast today, after my midterm. I think that this goes against the recommended order of the universe, but if I had eaten before the test, I might have given the food to the person next to me out of nerves. This would probably not have been appreciated. It was a good donut--soft and delicious and sprinkled with sugar. Mm, sugar.

I’ve started looking through my jewelry box more often, and realized I have several rings that I’d like to wear. The one I’m wearing today, for example has a large (fake?) turquoise that looks sort of like a flower, with a silver band, and it’s pretty. I also found a lovely silver ring with a pink stone that I would love to wear, but it only fits my left ring finger. I pretend I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, but really, I do.

A few months ago I started using a face lotion that has sunscreen in it. This means that my face is even paler than it used to be. I have not been using sunscreen on my forearms, though, and so now they are a little darker than my face, which makes it look like my foundation (which I don’t wear) is the wrong color. I just can’t win.

I have noticed that when I wear my blue and brown striped shirt to work, which is a button down shirt with a nice, pointed collar, people treat me like a capable human being. When I wear my red plaid western shirt, people treat me like a moron. I will continue to wear the western shirt out of spite.

I am going to take a drawing class with a close friend over the summer at a community college near my house, and I’m very excited. I feel really strange, though, about applying to community college with my university email address.

Last night I had a dream where I let a paleontologist pick me up with the line, "Let me show you my research."

Murphy's Burns

I worked Sunday, today, which is a six hour shift. That means I get a lunch. Now, I’ve worked this shift pretty much every week since December. So, I have a pretty good idea of the order of things. Every time I’ve worked Sunday, until today, I’ve gone to lunch sometime between 1:55 and 2:15 in the afternoon. My boyfriend decided he would bring me lunch today, so I told him to show up around 2:00.

At 1:30, my boss came over and told me to go to lunch.

My life is one of those lives which fully embraces Muphy’s Law.

The happy news is that I asked if I could go at 2:00 instead and she said of course, so it all ended okay, and I got my chicken tacos.

He also brought this energy drink, though, which tasted okay, so I drank a bunch. It made me super dizzy, and I fell onto a glass coffee table at work. There was this crystal moment where I was certain I was going to the emergency room--somewhere between the slip of my foot and my arms hitting the glass. It didn’t break, though, and so I am laceration free.

The second/third (I’m not sure) degree burn on the back of my hand is now slightly infected and it hurts. It also looks like it is filled with lemon pudding.

I’m wearing micro-fiber socks, which I advocate.

Burnin' Fish

On my way to my religious/ethnic studies discussion last week, I realized that the sixteen ounces of Pepsi I had at lunch were ready to leave me, and so I ducked into the restroom. As I hung my backpack up on the peg in the stall, I spotted a sign which advertised English lessons from someone with a BA in English. Someone else had come in with a pen and corrected the mistakes in spelling and grammar, and then had written ,”F-- see me.”

Then when I left the stall and was washing my hands a girl came in and bent over to examine her rear-end in the mirror, to make sure the seam of her pants was straight down the center of her bum.

I touched the heating element on the top of the oven (while the oven was heated to 450 degrees) with the back of my hand on Saturday morning. The blisters popped, and now the burn looks like those pictures of the wounds before they put the maggots on them, only tiny.

I got a new bra this weekend which has goldfish on it, and I’m very excited about it.

Working retail has made me doubt my communication skills. This weekend, a lady came in and asked for, “Those things you put on the bottom of furniture legs?” So I took her to those dots (felt, cork or plastic) which protect hard floors.

She said, “No, I need the whole thing.” and made a motion with her hand implying an entire leg. So I took her to the wood aisle.

She said, “No, I need the things, the felt, that goes under, on the bottom, for the floor?” So I took her back to the felt dots.

She dithered for a while, and then asked, “How will this protect the floor, thought?”

I said, “Well, um, the felt, or the cork, or plastic, those are softer than the wood is, and they’re smooth, so they won’t… scratch the floor?”

She asked how. I said they go on the bottom of the leg, between the leg and the floor.

She said, “This isn’t what I need,” and left the store. I still can’t figure out what she was talking about.

I need to figure out a better sleep schedule. Well, actually, I need to figure out a way to motivate myself to get into bed at bedtime reliably. I’m tired of being exhausted in the morning.

I’m hungry for feta.

Dreadful!

Legally, I’m an adult now. As such, I find myself a little unbelievable at times. Today, for example, I had a biology lab. The tables you sit at for this lab have power outlets on them for microscopes and stuff. As I sat there, I had to talk myself out of sticking my pen into the light socket just to see what would happen. I should be mature enough not to even think to myself that I want to stick something in the light socket.

Because I’m lazy, I had to make fourteen copies of a six page story for my creative fiction class today. Even though I put my own staples into the stapler on the desk next to the copier, I felt like people were watching me and judging me for using so many staples.

Last night I dreamed that I was the Joker and I shot Batman through the chest with a grappling gun. Like all the way through. He pulled it out with this wonderful wet ‘shchloorp’ sound and came after me.

I’m tired of my lower back hurting.

I’m also tired of my sister’s stupid cat eating ribbon. He threw up for fifteen feet the other day, and I had to clean it up. I don’t know how an animal that only weighs eight pounds can vomit so far, but he did it.

I can’t be the only person who hates it when people cough and wretch and make phlegm sounds around her.

My grandmother used to say dreadful a lot, and I think we should bring that word back. Like Randle in Clerks II, only mine’s less offensive and no one will care.

Catchin' Walleye

Sometimes when a new class begins, they have everyone announce something interesting about themselves to everyone else. There are variations of this game--it could be a “fun fact” or something no one else in the class is likely to say about themselves, or perhaps we tell our something to someone else and they introduce us. Regardless of petty differences, it’s the same game, and I don’t like it. There is a part of me deep inside which rebels at the idea that all there is interesting about me can be summed up in a sentence.

Now, I know that they aren’t asking for everything which is interesting about us, but that’s what it feels like. It’s also hard to come up with something on the spot like that. There’s an instant reaction of, “There’s nothing interesting about me!” Then there’s the panic, “That’s not good enough!”

For me, this means that I end up saying something funny to get a laugh.

I am seeking a conditioner that will actually condition. I want my hair to be full of shine and bounce.

I used to have a toe ring, and I enjoyed that. I think I want to get another one. Not the adjustable kind, but the kind that’s actually a ring.

Every night for almost a week I’ve been torturing myself with nightmares, and last night, it got worse. That Kid Rock song about Sweet Home Alabama played in my head all night long.

And I suffered.

Candy Guns

Every night for the last four or five nights, I’ve had nightmares. Last night my dream was horrible. In it, I was riding in this truck through this town which was built on a smaller scale than the real world is. I think I was in Europe. Anyway, I got off the truck to go into a building, and there were zombies everywhere. I was in a small building with a counter that might once have been a store. It had huge glass windows, so it was some sort of business, anyway. I jumped up on top of a shelving unit, and this man started to walk towards me. Now, in this dream, there was another man who was still alive who was with us in the truck, and he’d come into the building with me and my mom. Anyway, he took a pair of nail clippers and clipped the air passage of the zombie which goes from the nose to the eye (note: I don’t think this really exists). The zombie looked a little surprised, and made that air-escaping-a-balloon sound, and then frowned at me, and pointed at my feet.

He only wanted my candy-bar.

I burned myself with a glue gun at work the other day. Someone dropped something loudly right behind me, and I jumped, jamming the metal tip against the back of my index finger. When I pulled the gun away, there was glue on my finger, which I peeled up. Frowning at the spot, I tried to pull up the rest of the glue.

Then I realized that was my skin.

The low heat glue guns are not actually low in heat.

Peas and Literature

I used to think that there was this big joke being played against me and that every grown up person was in on it. This joke was, of course, called literature. Before I could read, I was convinced that There were secrets being kept from me in books and magazines, and I was obsessed with finding out what they were. So, I learned to read fairly early, and without much prompting by parents or teachers. It very rarely happens that something is actually as good as it is anticipated to be, at least for me. I am often let down (by pastries, films, clothing, coffee) and so I have developed a slightly cynical view of the world.

Literature didn’t do that.

As a young child, I realized that books were even better than I thought they were--there was more in them than I had ever imagined. Eventually I realized that there was no conspiracy against me, but that didn’t matter because of the wonder that was reading.

In lecture this morning, I felt like I needed to buckle myself in to my seat.

Despite my nightmares last night, I woke up feeling really good. My shower only took a few minutes, which is strange, because in the early morning it usually ends up taking a lot longer.

Yesterday I planted my little pea plants.

That’s not the beginning of the story though. A few weeks ago, in my biology lab, we had to boil little baby corn plants to death to show that they stop breathing once they’re dead. This made me feel guilty, so the next day I went to the hardware store and bought the little paper cups and seeds and soil to plant a vegetable garden. I planted peas and peppers and basil and so on.

Unfortunately, it was very windy between then and now, and something happened to most of the little baby plants (who’s leaves had not yet come up). The pea plants, though, did not get destroyed. So, yesterday, I planted them, finally. I hope they do well.

I love shoes.

Plastic Fish

My lovely boyfriend gave me three gifts this week, which is unusual. He gave me a bouquet of fake flowers, which he wire-wrapped together, a cherry scented candle (which I wish were a food, it smells so good) and a bottle of the best lotion ever (even if the name is completely silly). The flowers, which made me deliriously happy, are, I admit, very silly. They’re very pink, and very fake, and wonderful. Anyway, he gave them to me, so I love them. My mother, on the other hand, took it upon herself to tell me (although not exactly in such terms) that the gift was frivolous and stupid. I didn’t reply to her, but for some reason the comment stuck, and it’s been bothering me.

Of course the flowers are frivolous and stupid--that’s the point. My boyfriend knew that when he gave them to me. He knew that I don’t need plastic flowers that don’t really match my room! That isn’t their purpose. They’re to remind me that he thinks about me when I’m not there, and that sometimes pretty things don’t have to be expensive, useful, or ceremonial (because, after all, there isn’t some holiday this week that he could be acknowledging with the gift). They’re just meant to be a silly reminder of him, for me, and they do serve that purpose very well. They make me smile every time I see them, and even if my mom thinks they’re dumb and wasteful, I still love them.

Last night, my sister stabbed me in the foot with a steak knife. Of course, it wasn’t on purpose and while I bled a little bit, I’m not actually injured. Still, it hurt pretty bad. The strange part, though, is that last night, I had a dream where she took my computer and printed out all of my privet documents. I became angry, in the dream, and tried to beat her face, but I felt like I was moving through water instead of air, and so I wasn’t able to really hit her. It was very dissatisfying.

On Sunday, I was at work, and I was taking old price stickers off merchandise with a dull box cutter, and my thumb hurt from pushing the blade. My feet hurt from standing. My back and shoulders hurt from hunching over the little craft supplies, and I was grumpy. I didn’t really want to be at work, and I let myself acknowledge that, and instead of bringing inner peace, it made me more grumpy. Clutching a miss-priced spool of ugly ribbon in my hand, I slapped the blade down, and worked it under the green sticker which proclaimed, “SALE-- $1.44,” in chunky, blurred black letters. Then I realized something.

I was mad because I felt like they were stealing my weekends from me.

Then I realized something else.

They weren’t stealing my weekends from me, they were buying my weekends from me. And I was selling my weekends to them. Then, while standing at the center island of the moderately sized craft store, tired and a little sweaty, I worked out just how much I was selling my weekends for, and realized that (ignoring government taxes, because I, shamefully, do not know exactly how much they take out) I was selling my weekends for $96.00 each.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized I thought this was a fairly fair price, given that really, I was just selling my mornings and afternoons, and not selling my evenings. It wasn’t like I was doing really backbreaking or mentally demanding work, either. I was more cheerful after realizing all of this, until my boss asked me to work the next day, too.

I have twenty six cents, a ukulele and a depressing number of papers strewn across my bedroom floor, and it makes me feel conflicted. Deep down, I have a strong desire to live a life with minimal stuff near me, and I think this is why I don’t allow much to be kept in my bathroom. On the other hand, I like having the stuff, and I am lazy, so things, especially papers from last quarter, tend to sit near the waste bin until I empty my trash. There they sit, making me feel cluttered and disorganized, and I wish I knew how to motivate myself to create a clean and clutter-free environment for myself.

I’ve long had this feeling that there is a system which, if only I could stumble upon it, would make my life suddenly snap into place and force everything to be easy. I’m starting to think that perhaps that doesn’t really exist and that looking for it is as foolish is trying to find skill-free make-up tips.

I also need to clean out my fish tanks. The water is fine (that is, the ammonia levels and all) but there is some algae growing on the sand in my larger tank. I’m thinking that I want to get some more fish for that tank, too, and I think I want balloon mollies (or is it mollys?) I’m shallow enough, though, that I’m worried they won’t match my lovely pearl that I already have living there, so I’ve been thinking about just getting a cloud of glo-light tetras for now. We’ll see how that goes.

Dreams and Blowfish

My mom bought me the most amazing gift today. It’s a little ceramic dish (tiny--it might old a quarter cup of liquid) that’s shaped like a blowfish. It’s so perfectly cute, and I can’t wait until I move out someday so that I can use it to serve salt at my dinner table with.

I have been having very strange dreams lately. The other night I dreamt that there was a terrible zombie apocalypse and I was living in this post-zombie world compound. Unfortunately, I was the one who had to live in the room facing the zombie menace. My room was open on two sides, with my bed about a foot and a half from the rickety fence set up to keep the zombies out. Periodically I had to pick up my strange scythe-pick combination tool and smack it into the heads of the moaning undead who were reaching through the fence into my room. I then went and tried to rescue this girl who I’ve never met, who rejected my help with a startled, “But who are you?”

I was pretty matter of fact about this, until we were invaded by other living people who had the advantage of coming from above on this hill, so I crawled out and hid behind a truck, and sniped their leader. He tumbled down from the theatre spotlight he was working on the crowd of refugees I had been living with, and the people took us back to live with them at the zoo. They assured me that there were no zombies, and I believed them until the moment before I woke up.

Then, the next night I had a dream where I was a seagull who lived on an ocean the size of a boxcar.

Last night my dream was about the unfairness of multiple choice tests.

Sometimes I sit in class, taking notes on my computer, and write passive aggressive things about the people around me who are disrupting my learning.

Last night I was going to add a couple gallons of water to my fish tanks. I filled the bucket and wrestled it down the hallway to my room, where I was to add the stuff that neutralizes all of the nasty chemicals in the tap water which make it safe for us but dangerous to fishes. Unfortunately, the top came off of the bottle and the entire thing dumped into the bucket, rendering it unusable. I was too lazy to fix the problem and now I have a bucket of water I need to pour out next to my fish tank.

I think I need to get some of those foam earplugs to wear to lectures. That must sound awfully silly, but my ears hurt all the time anymore. Whenever there’s someone nearby who has a cough, I end up feeling like my ears have had hot oil poured down inside them for days. It’s terrible. I am actually afraid that I might go deaf sooner, rather than later. My sense of hearing is awful. It makes me want to learn sign language.

I love receiving flowers.

I think that people who come into a retail store to buy non-essential items and allow their babies to wail the entire time they’re in the store without making some attempt to quiet them are awful, terrible people. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I don’t think inflicting a screaming toddler on forty other people while you browse the selection of stickers we have available is acceptable. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to say anything to them while I’m at work. I do, however, leave stores which have screaming children in them.

Speaking of screaming children, my cousin is coming out with her two daughters this Friday and I’m interested to see them again. It’s funny to watch someone that much younger than me grow up. It really does happen quickly.

Chocolate Muffins and Devastation

It was blustery and cold this morning, and even armed with my fancy-dancy London scarf and my newish wool coat, I was chilled by the wind on my way to class. So, I stopped by the library and used four of the quarters in my pocket to buy myself a hot chocolate from a vending machine. Happy, I marched to class, my head held high and my hands tight around the paper warmth of the cup. I marched right through a planter and caught my toe on the cement edge. I almost went down. There was much wind milling of the arms and yelling, but I didn’t fall. Glancing down at myself, I realized, miracle of miracles, I hadn’t even spilled my cocoa.

I laughed to myself and pranced down a short ramp for the handicapped, and without tripping over anything poured about half my hot chocolate down the front of my coat. Grumbling to myself, I stomped into my classroom and sat down. Because it’s a large lecture hall and only about 2/3rds of the class ever bother to show up, I placed my remaining cocoa on the desk next to mine, and opened my backpack to pull out my homework which was due at the start of the lecture. As I handed it to the person next to me, I checked my backpack once more to make certain that my twelve page paper, due in the next class, was still where I had left it. Assured that it was, I pulled out my day-planner and started planning my day.

When the lecture began, I reached to shove my planner back into my backpack. As I did, my elbow jostled the desk next to mine, and in slow motion the half-filled cup of hot chocolate spun, and fell perfectly into the compartment of my bag, directly on the cover page of my twelve page paper. I let out a small gasp, and after a moment of shocked disbelief, I pulled the cup out, and then the paper. The first several pages were totally and utterly soaked. So I stood up and marched my butt back to the library, thinking that since I had the foresight to email the essay to myself the night before I would simply print out all fifteen pages again (the twelve page paper plus the coversheet and two pages of references). Then I reached into my pocket and realized I only had $0.60, and each page would cost $0.10. After a brief panic, I prioritized my essay, and printed out the pages that were worst hit by the cocoa and took it to class.

My professor found my story deeply amusing, and laughed harder when I went to the bathroom to wash out my backpack.

I now owe my sister a new copy of Pearls Before Swine.

In other news, I couple weeks ago, I was trying to make these amazing chocolate chip banana muffins (from scratch). I measured the ingredients, mixed them, put the little papers into the muffin tins, dolled out the batter with the ice cream scoop and dropped the entire tray upside down on the hot oven door.

I was devastated.

Today I have righted that wrong by mixing up a new batch of muffins which are safely out of the oven, golden brown, and delicious.

Rude Wool

In one of the classes I’m taking, my Professor said something today which, frankly, made no sense. The grades on the midterm are based on what everyone else got, so essentially you are in direct competition with those around you. That means that the top twenty five percent of the class gets an a, regardless of the actual percentages people get. While I personally dislike this sort of grading, I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. The part that got under my skin, though, was that she generously decided to grant everyone an additional seventeen percent on the midterm. What I don’t get is why she’s bothering--it won’t actually change anyone’s grades at all. I think perhaps she didn’t think it all the way through.

I’m a little shocked that I’m doing so well in physics this quarter, but the real surprise is that I’m enjoying it so much. Math is, shock surprise, fun. I think I’ll cut way back on the number of fluff classes I take from now on.

The store that I work at is closing soon, and I’ve noticed something that at first seemed very strange. As soon as the “Store Closing” sign went up, the number of customers who are very rude went up sharply. Suddenly, people are leaving candy wrappers and soda bottles all over the place, they’re miss-shelving things, and refusing to make eye-contact or say please or thank you. I actually watched a woman take a pack of stickers down off a rack, look at them for a moment and literally drop them on the floor and walk away. Now, I’m not wildly irritated about all of this, but I do think it’s very interesting. It doesn’t offend me personally that these people are now treating me like I’m an idiot (because of the sign?) because I know that I’m not stupid, but it does make me want to ask why they’re doing it. I doubt that would go over particularly well, though, so perhaps I’ll stick with internal sighs and outward smiles.

I got a new coat, and it’s fabulous. I didn’t realize that wearing an actual coat, made of wool, is so, so much warmer than wearing a cotton-blend hoodie. It’s amazing. Walking to class at seven thirty in the morning, I am no longer just not dead, I’m actually warm. I put my hands in my pockets, and they’re warm too! Toasty.

My earrings keep getting caught in the scarf I’m wearing today, and it is very unpleasant.

Screamin' Petals

Haven’t updated, no excuses, blah-blah-blah.

My dad caught the evil awful cold I had for six solid weeks. It was one of those ones that slammed you back and forth between being hot and cold and energetic and dead. It was not a fun illness to have. My dad has it now, though, and while normally he’s pretty stoic about illness, shunning medicine and all of that, he finally got his foot surgery scheduled, and since he’s been waiting for that since before we found out who was going to be the new President, he’s reluctant to let a cold force them to reschedule. So, he’s been acting like a big baby about the whole thing (which is completely understandable and not the point). This morning when I came downstairs, he was attacking one of those little blister packs of cold pills with an eight inch kitchen knife. When I said something like, “Whuuh?” He glared at me, brandished the knife at the pills and said, “Why do they make them so hard to open when the people that’ll be trying to open them are sick? It makes no sense!” I couldn’t argue with that.

I watched an unemployed homeless man with five foster children pick up a woman yesterday, and I’m still in awe of his skills. (On that topic, though, I wonder just how an unemployed homeless man has five foster children—not with him, he just mentioned them—I mean; you wouldn’t think the state would allow that).

I was mildly disappointed to learn that the Frankie in the love song Frankie and Johnny was a woman. I mean, it’s an older country song, so of course she is, but when I saw the title and heard the opening line, I felt a moment of surprised excitement that was quickly quashed by the chorus. Still, it shouldn’t take too much lyrical reworking to fix the injustice.

My boyfriend has been making the most beautiful jewelry. I’m so wildly impressed with what he’s been doing. I can’t believe that he just started doing it recently. We were at the craft store, and he goes, “I’m going to get some wire and some beads and start making jewelry.” I said, “That’s nice dear.” I thought he was going to basically take the wire and throw the beads on it, and be like, “Ta-da!” What he did was so much more impressive than that. I’ll get his permission later and throw the link to his etsy account up here, so that the one person other than me who reads this can go see what I’m talking about. Seriously, this stuff’s gorgeous.

Speaking of gorgeous, I saw a really beautiful sunset the other night and it’s still making me happy. Also topping my list of things that made me way happier than they really ought to have are the two canceled classes I have NOT going on this week, and the motivation I’m feeling to really do better in the second half of this quarter than I’ve done so far. I think I’m hitting the tail end of that evil cold, and I’m getting my second wind, so to speak. It isn’t that I’m doing all that poorly; I’m just not really applying myself the way I ought to be. That will change, though, and I’ll start emulating those people in my life who do so much better than me at everything with the exception of scraping by with the minimum effort (and perhaps baking pound cake).

I also learned that I have not grown out of being terrified by haunted houses. I went to a theme park with my boyfriend rather than watching that super-huge football game people seem to care so much about, and went into the haunted house they had and I screamed so much that the small child of approximately six years old looked back at me as if to say, “Please, lady, shuuut up!” He was completely incredulous. On the plus side, I did get everyone laughing, and that felt good.

There are these trees on campus that bloom in late January/early February, and they smell so, so awful. 100% of people polled agree with me.

I asked two people.