Wednesday, October 31, 2012

For Heath

I have about six drafts of posts that I've written for this blog, and I haven't posted any of them. I want to try to do better. I really do.

Someone I grew up with passed away the beginning of this month. He was 25 years old, married, and had two kids. He died from a heart attack. We were good friends in high school. We had even made a pact that if neither one of us were married by the time we were 40, we'd marry each other. I hadn't seen him in years, but every once in a while, we sent each other messages on the internet. He read this blog, and he told me how much he enjoyed it and my writing. And he would send me things that he had written and would ask me to go over them and give him advice. I am so sad he's gone. I am so sad his children will never know who he was. I am so overwhelmingly sad for his wife.

His passing has made me think a lot, as death will do. But especially someone so young. If I died tomorrow, would I be happy with the life I had lead up to this point? What do I want out of life? I really want to appreciate life more. I feel like I am always so worried and stressed out. And sometimes, I am sad. With no reason, really. I have days,weeks, even, where the world seems like a sad and angry place and I don't want to participate in it. I know that this is a part of who I am, and it's a problem I will probably have my whole life, but I need to try to realize how great life really is. I'm happy to be here. I'm happy to be a part of it. I have so many wonderful people in my life. And things aren't perfect, but perfection is not really possible.

The day I found out my friend died, my boyfriend came home to me crying on the couch. And he did something I remember my parents used to do for me when I was really little - just hugged me and let me cry until I didn't have anything left. And then we talked about it. I mentioned to him how my friend had been one of the few people who read this blog and really supported me in it, and how I hadn't written in it for a long time. And Dan said, "Well, maybe you should start up again. Your friend would have liked that." And that's what I'm trying to do.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

waiting with a blue moon

The other day, a girl told me she was an amateur palm reader. I offered her my hands. She looked at the lines on my right hand, then my left. I asked her what the difference was. She told me the lines on my right hand were indicative of what my life should be like, the ones on my left showed how I was really living it. I have been thinking about this for days now. Is there a destiny I'm not living up to? A fate I'm steering away from? Which hand is "better?"

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Sunday, April 1, 2012

What to Expect When You're a Girl Who Lives by Herself

So...I have lived by myself for about a year now. The last time I lived by myself, I was 18 years old and let's just say things were a lot different then. Except for that brief period, I have always had a man living with me who would take care of certain things. In the past year, I have had to do those things myself. Let me tell you, some of these things have not been a walk in the park.

Spiders. You may remember my post before about this, but it's the time of year where they are coming back out and I've already had to kill four. Killing spiders is one thing that I wish I could pawn off on a man.

Mice. Picking up traps with dead rodents in them? Not exactly my forte. Getting a shovel and trying to maneuver it through the kitchen with a dead mouse on it while screeching the whole time is as ridiculous as it sounds.

Clogged drains. I actually have to say, that after unclogging my shower drain twice and unclogging my sink who knows how many times, I can't believe anyone else would actually do this for me considering it is all my hair that is clogging that thing up. I know it's my own hair, but I still want to puke when I do it. Anybody see that "Modern Family" episode where they had a bit on this? It made me laugh so hard because it was basically me.

Shoveling snow. Yes, spoiled girl as I was, I never had to shovel my own walkway or driveway before. I had to do it this year. I would rather do this than the other things that I listed above, but I still wouldn't describe it as fun.

Electronics. Let me explain. I am horrible when it comes to figuring out how to hook up electronics or how to work new equipment. So when I got cable and I was sent a bunch of wires and cords, I sat myself down on the living room floor and spent a couple hours (yes, HOURS) trying to figure it out. This included a couple calls to the helpline, where I was so frustrated I could have thrown the cable box against the wall. I felt like a complete imbecile. And when the helpline people couldn't figure it out, they ended up sending a cable guy out who then had to do some work under the house. (Like I know what it was.) I didn't feel so much like an idiot. But I still get a little pang of anxiety just thinking about cords and wires and things of that nature.

Handy(wo)man stuff. You know, like putting a closet door back on the track (Mine comes off ALL the time. I wouldn't say it's especially difficult, but it's kind of hard for me since I'm so short - I have trouble seeing where the track is.) or fixing other things. This probably wasn't very smart of me, but the light in my bedroom had been out for WEEKS, and my landlord wasn't coming to fix it in a timely manner, so I decided I was going to mess with it one day. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I was just moving and maneuvering and messing with electric wires when - BAM! - the light came back on. (You thought I was going to say I got shocked, didn't you? That's okay. I'm surprised I didn't.)

That's about it, really. I guess it hasn't been all that bad. Now I can say I know how to do these things, perhaps there isn't very much grace involved when I perform them, but I still do them. Worst one by far is unclogging drains. Blech.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

10 Percent Off

Today at work, I told a customer I could ring her up at a register and she came forward with her shopping cart full of items. The first thing she did was hand me a candy bar. "I want a discount on that," she said. I looked at the candy bar, and then looked back at her - I'm sure confusion was written all over my face. "It's cracked. You can feel it. It's in two pieces." Again, I looked down at the candy bar in my hand, where I could feel that it was indeed cracked, and again, I looked at the woman with what I would imagine was an even more confused look on my face.

I said, "Well, we take ten percent off of items that are damaged. I don't really believe this candy bar is damaged. You can still eat it."  (I just want to add that, in case it isn't obvious, the ten percent is used in instances like scuffed furniture or a spot on a blouse.)

"But it's cracked," she insisted. We both looked at each other. Neither of us spoke for a minute; I was still trying to figure out why this was even happening. I finally broke the silence.

"This candy bar is $2.00. You want me to take off 20 cents?"

She looked at me like I was the insane one and then gave a very annoyed: "Yes."

I figured, what the hell? I wasn't going to get into a fight over 20 cents. I gave her the discount for the $2.00 candy bar and then rang up her $100.00 purse.