SONG OF THE DAY:
Monday, September 8, 2014
Courtyard
It is nice out today. I am actually enjoying myself outside of my bedroom. I am wearing a white cotton dress with bell sleeves that flow with my small gestures. There is a calm breeze that coats my flesh in a milky cool feeling. Adjacent to my feet is a small fountain. The ripples seem to mirror the music escaping my headphones and infiltrating my body. One song after another sinking deeper and deeper into my brain and down into my stomach. I am well rested but appear tired. This must be because of that sick feeling. I've been feeling nauseous and I can't tell if this could be because of motion sickness from riding the elevators constantly or the sad music creating a parallel to my emotions of being away from my friends. I observe the people around me and I see that they are mostly in groups, laughing, enjoying one another. What I would give to have that. A group of friends. Someone else to talk to or experience things with. I can't continue to cling to my roommate and Alex. Alex has her own group of friends in the upper east side and I need to find my own down here in lower manhattan. There is even a couple sitting together kissing and laughing. It's beautiful. They're beautiful. They seem not only to be completely physically attracted to one another, but smitten with their personalities as well. There is a copper coated statue towering over me. Now rusted to a dark green, the woman holding herself in a large ring and supporting a small child with her foot in a sort of acrobatic way. I don't exactly like this statue. You can usually bet on me disliking anything with children in it. Elliot Smith is now singing his whispering song, almost sexual. His songs are so beautifully whispered. Whispered so thin I can feel it spread in my veins down to my fingertips and back up through my heart. His songs make me sad because they remind me of listening to them in my room at home with my cat nestled under my arm as I sketched out satanic figures in my notebook. About this time back home I would hear a call from downstairs from my mother asking about dinner. Then I would've found that so incredibly annoying, but now I wouldn't mind it. I can't help but feel, maybe I'm not ready to be away from home like this? But this confuses me. I was so unhappy back at home, I thought moving here would fix everything! I know it takes time, but I am the most impatient person I know. Fly away hairs keep tickling my nose as the breeze continues and seems to intensify as the time goes by. The sky looks dim and mellow but with an underlining of sadness. It's going to rain. I am going to cry. I am the sky. It constantly mirrors my mood. Thats why back home it was always overcast. The gods have yet to adjust to where I am now. Now it is starting to sync with my being.
SONG OF THE DAY:
New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down- LCD Soundsystem
SONG OF THE DAY:
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Laundry Asshole
Today I did my first load of laundry. Not really a big deal, I know, but I feel as though it is a milestone in my 'Going to College' adventure.
My roommate and I journeyed down to the basement floor. This was quite an adventure since we are on the 16th floor and the elevator stops basically every floor to pick up some kids. I still haven't gotten used to the concept of the elevator, so every time I go in it I get motion sickness. This makes me sound like such a farm girl compared to the girls and guys who have lived in the city their whole lives. Finally reaching the lobby we exit and then walk over to the stairs that lead down into the basement. The air turns thick with heat and the strong perfume of detergent as we enter the laundry room. A couple of girls are standing around in shorts and a tshirt loading and unloading their many pares of panties and blouses. When I go to move my clothes to the dryer there are none available. I stood around looking and feeling like a dumb ass. I edged myself to the wall stacked of dryers realizing 5 dryers would be available if people actually wanted to get their clothes out. A girl stood across the room looking calm and collected, a look I don't think I could ever acquire.
"Just take em' out."
I looked at her, then my roommate.
"seriously, just take em' out. That's what I'd do. It's their fault for leaving their shit in there and not getting it."
I look at the dryer filled with a strangers underwear, then I look at my roommate. "I don't know, that's kinda messed up right?" I muttered still starring at the dryer.
"No don't worry about it, seriously just take out their shit and leave it on the table" she had her eyebrows raised as she looked down at her nails and didn't look back up. I took a deep breath, not a big deal right? Totally not a big deal. I opened the dryer and began to unload the laundry onto the nearby table.
"I feel like an asshole..." making a disgusted face as I picked up some thongs and a tshirt and placed it on the table.
"Yeah don't feel bad, not your problem" She smiled and turned to finish her own laundry.
After 45 minutes I quickly got back to the basement a couple minutes early to make sure no one took my clothes out and had done what I had done to this mystery girl. Standing there waiting for the last three minutes to be up, I was paranoid that the girl would come back and see her laundry no longer in the dryer and me unloading my clothes from it. Any time someone would come near to the dryer my heart stopped and stomach dropped. Thankfully no one showed up and I went back to my room successfully.
I have always heard stories about this happening at college from my parents and my brother and how it happens often and I've never thought much of it. Now that I am THAT asshole who left those clothes in a neat pile on the table, I want to say sorry to this person, but get your clothes on time.
SONG OF THE DAY:
Breezeblocks- Alt-J
My roommate and I journeyed down to the basement floor. This was quite an adventure since we are on the 16th floor and the elevator stops basically every floor to pick up some kids. I still haven't gotten used to the concept of the elevator, so every time I go in it I get motion sickness. This makes me sound like such a farm girl compared to the girls and guys who have lived in the city their whole lives. Finally reaching the lobby we exit and then walk over to the stairs that lead down into the basement. The air turns thick with heat and the strong perfume of detergent as we enter the laundry room. A couple of girls are standing around in shorts and a tshirt loading and unloading their many pares of panties and blouses. When I go to move my clothes to the dryer there are none available. I stood around looking and feeling like a dumb ass. I edged myself to the wall stacked of dryers realizing 5 dryers would be available if people actually wanted to get their clothes out. A girl stood across the room looking calm and collected, a look I don't think I could ever acquire.
"Just take em' out."
I looked at her, then my roommate.
"seriously, just take em' out. That's what I'd do. It's their fault for leaving their shit in there and not getting it."
I look at the dryer filled with a strangers underwear, then I look at my roommate. "I don't know, that's kinda messed up right?" I muttered still starring at the dryer.
"No don't worry about it, seriously just take out their shit and leave it on the table" she had her eyebrows raised as she looked down at her nails and didn't look back up. I took a deep breath, not a big deal right? Totally not a big deal. I opened the dryer and began to unload the laundry onto the nearby table.
"I feel like an asshole..." making a disgusted face as I picked up some thongs and a tshirt and placed it on the table.
"Yeah don't feel bad, not your problem" She smiled and turned to finish her own laundry.
After 45 minutes I quickly got back to the basement a couple minutes early to make sure no one took my clothes out and had done what I had done to this mystery girl. Standing there waiting for the last three minutes to be up, I was paranoid that the girl would come back and see her laundry no longer in the dryer and me unloading my clothes from it. Any time someone would come near to the dryer my heart stopped and stomach dropped. Thankfully no one showed up and I went back to my room successfully.
I have always heard stories about this happening at college from my parents and my brother and how it happens often and I've never thought much of it. Now that I am THAT asshole who left those clothes in a neat pile on the table, I want to say sorry to this person, but get your clothes on time.
SONG OF THE DAY:
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Mirrors, Light, and Tunnels
It has been not even a week since I have moved into college and I have begun to see myself in another light.
Like most young women and men my age I have points of weakness where I see myself as an ugly person with an ugly body. I know I may preach to love one's self for who you are, but it is incredibly hard to take your own advice. There have been many points to where I have stood naked in front of my mirror starring and studying each curve, fold, scar, and pore. Finding one after the other to be as ugly as the last. Seeing myself in this ugly light I felt I needed to hide myself. How could I possibly show myself in public? How could I be so cruel to others by making their eyes cast upon my body only to look away in disgust? This thinking only started to become my own paradox. The more I began to think this way, the more I hated myself for thinking that way thus bringing on more self hatred. I have never had an eating disorder, but that does not mean I haven't thought about it. Of course everyone thinks about something of the sort at some point, it is human nature. As I would think about vomiting after a meal or skipping one, I saw these "short cuts" as pointless. Why should I torture my body by making it even more unhealthy to get a result that will never come? I found this questioning may in fact have saved my life.
Now living in New York City, I have found that I have been judging myself less and focussing more on being healthy. My dorm room has one mirror, and it is in my bathroom. I use this mirror to apply makeup and other things that have to do with skin care. It's not long enough to see my body and I think this is good. I have been focussing more on other things than worrying about what I look like to other people. I haven't been standing naked wondering 'why do I look like this?' or 'how could something be this gross??'. Simply observing other people in my building I see that these people aren't concerned with my body but who I actually am. Of course I have yet to actually make a friend that isn't my roommate, I still find it comforting that no one cares.
Speaking of making very little friends... This has been a surprise to me. I always thought the second I would get to college I would be surrounded with people just like me. Well so far the only friend I have made is my roommate. She's great and we get along perfectly. It's just, when there is one person you spend time with, once they leave you by yourself. You are completely alone. Everyone I have grown up with and gone to school with is in another state. My family is in another state. Suddenly sitting alone in my dorm room with the tv on to keep me company, I feel a pang of utter sorrow and self pity. I have felt alone before but, I have never felt THIS alone before. Knowing that there isn't anyone I could just call up to hang out with is devastating. Today I was video chatting with my parents keeping them up to date with what was going on, it was hard to not burst into tears the second they asked if I made any friends. I had to gather my composure and look down so they couldn't see my eyes well up with tears and simply uttered.. no. Offering some comfort, they said it's only been a week and I was sure to make some friends soon, I changed the subject to my classes. When I am alone and feel like I'm going to cry, I honestly try to cry. I feel like once I do I will be okay. And you know, I haven't cried once? Not at graduation. Not saying goodbye to friends as they went off to college. Not moving into Pace. I can't bare it. Part of me just wants to get it over with because I know it's going to happen eventually, then part of me is afraid that if I do cry, I have given up and lost the battle showing that I am weak.
I know it gets better. I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. But right now, the tunnel is pretty long and dark.
SONG OF THE DAY:
Life Round Here- James Blake
Like most young women and men my age I have points of weakness where I see myself as an ugly person with an ugly body. I know I may preach to love one's self for who you are, but it is incredibly hard to take your own advice. There have been many points to where I have stood naked in front of my mirror starring and studying each curve, fold, scar, and pore. Finding one after the other to be as ugly as the last. Seeing myself in this ugly light I felt I needed to hide myself. How could I possibly show myself in public? How could I be so cruel to others by making their eyes cast upon my body only to look away in disgust? This thinking only started to become my own paradox. The more I began to think this way, the more I hated myself for thinking that way thus bringing on more self hatred. I have never had an eating disorder, but that does not mean I haven't thought about it. Of course everyone thinks about something of the sort at some point, it is human nature. As I would think about vomiting after a meal or skipping one, I saw these "short cuts" as pointless. Why should I torture my body by making it even more unhealthy to get a result that will never come? I found this questioning may in fact have saved my life.
Now living in New York City, I have found that I have been judging myself less and focussing more on being healthy. My dorm room has one mirror, and it is in my bathroom. I use this mirror to apply makeup and other things that have to do with skin care. It's not long enough to see my body and I think this is good. I have been focussing more on other things than worrying about what I look like to other people. I haven't been standing naked wondering 'why do I look like this?' or 'how could something be this gross??'. Simply observing other people in my building I see that these people aren't concerned with my body but who I actually am. Of course I have yet to actually make a friend that isn't my roommate, I still find it comforting that no one cares.
Speaking of making very little friends... This has been a surprise to me. I always thought the second I would get to college I would be surrounded with people just like me. Well so far the only friend I have made is my roommate. She's great and we get along perfectly. It's just, when there is one person you spend time with, once they leave you by yourself. You are completely alone. Everyone I have grown up with and gone to school with is in another state. My family is in another state. Suddenly sitting alone in my dorm room with the tv on to keep me company, I feel a pang of utter sorrow and self pity. I have felt alone before but, I have never felt THIS alone before. Knowing that there isn't anyone I could just call up to hang out with is devastating. Today I was video chatting with my parents keeping them up to date with what was going on, it was hard to not burst into tears the second they asked if I made any friends. I had to gather my composure and look down so they couldn't see my eyes well up with tears and simply uttered.. no. Offering some comfort, they said it's only been a week and I was sure to make some friends soon, I changed the subject to my classes. When I am alone and feel like I'm going to cry, I honestly try to cry. I feel like once I do I will be okay. And you know, I haven't cried once? Not at graduation. Not saying goodbye to friends as they went off to college. Not moving into Pace. I can't bare it. Part of me just wants to get it over with because I know it's going to happen eventually, then part of me is afraid that if I do cry, I have given up and lost the battle showing that I am weak.
I know it gets better. I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. But right now, the tunnel is pretty long and dark.
SONG OF THE DAY:
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Kindergarten Nightmare
When I was in kindergarten I had THE most terrifying nightmare. It is still ingrained in my mind and though I may not be something I would be terrified of today, it still creeps me the fuck out.
Okay, so my brother, mother and I went to some sort of Chuckie Cheese-Bounce U hybrid. It was really dark outside when we decided to leave. My mom was still inside but Liam and I were waiting on the sidewalk lined with bushes. I heard a rustle in the bushes and a little grumble, I looked at Liam as we inched closer to the bushes. My hands trembling we pushed back the branches to peer into the foliage. There was a man laying in the dirt, bones exposed and blood everywhere. Now don't laugh when I tell you what was tearing this dude limb from limb... Okay... So if you are not blessed with the knowledge of Pokemon, there is a generation before Pikachu becomes Pikachu and this thing is called Pichu.
Okay so this little fucker may be adorable looking but no, this is the thing that was eating that man alive. Yeah, sounds funny now, but it wont be so funny when that things chewing on your fucking ear off. ANYWAY... Seeing the man covered in blood and covered in these THINGS we turn to run back inside but as we turned around we ran into my mother who was now outside and the building was not locked up. She saw the animals and rushed us into the other side of sidewalk into the bushes. There were six round holes dug into the ground. She pushed Liam and I into a hole and she jumped into another. I looked at her and opened my mouth to scream out of terror but she held her finger to her lips to keep me quiet. The whole theory in this dream was a lot like Predator where if you don't move they can't see you. Staying completely still was difficult because I was terrified these things were going to find me. I felt a sharp pain on my foot and saw a Pichu biting into my ankle. I kicked it and smashed it's fucking brains with my pale blue Mary Jane t-strap shoes. This kind of vivid and gory imagery is pretty surprising of a kindergartener who wasn't even allowed to watch Ed, Edd, and Eddie because they said the word 'crud'. I woke us after I smashed the pichu and was drenched in sweat. I called out for my parents and they came rushing into my room. I was so scared I couldn't even cry I just sat there shaking.
Okay, so my brother, mother and I went to some sort of Chuckie Cheese-Bounce U hybrid. It was really dark outside when we decided to leave. My mom was still inside but Liam and I were waiting on the sidewalk lined with bushes. I heard a rustle in the bushes and a little grumble, I looked at Liam as we inched closer to the bushes. My hands trembling we pushed back the branches to peer into the foliage. There was a man laying in the dirt, bones exposed and blood everywhere. Now don't laugh when I tell you what was tearing this dude limb from limb... Okay... So if you are not blessed with the knowledge of Pokemon, there is a generation before Pikachu becomes Pikachu and this thing is called Pichu.
Okay so this little fucker may be adorable looking but no, this is the thing that was eating that man alive. Yeah, sounds funny now, but it wont be so funny when that things chewing on your fucking ear off. ANYWAY... Seeing the man covered in blood and covered in these THINGS we turn to run back inside but as we turned around we ran into my mother who was now outside and the building was not locked up. She saw the animals and rushed us into the other side of sidewalk into the bushes. There were six round holes dug into the ground. She pushed Liam and I into a hole and she jumped into another. I looked at her and opened my mouth to scream out of terror but she held her finger to her lips to keep me quiet. The whole theory in this dream was a lot like Predator where if you don't move they can't see you. Staying completely still was difficult because I was terrified these things were going to find me. I felt a sharp pain on my foot and saw a Pichu biting into my ankle. I kicked it and smashed it's fucking brains with my pale blue Mary Jane t-strap shoes. This kind of vivid and gory imagery is pretty surprising of a kindergartener who wasn't even allowed to watch Ed, Edd, and Eddie because they said the word 'crud'. I woke us after I smashed the pichu and was drenched in sweat. I called out for my parents and they came rushing into my room. I was so scared I couldn't even cry I just sat there shaking.
This is not one of my best pieces of writing probably because right now I am sitting on my couch watching The Craft while my cat attempts to sit on my keyboard. Well I hope you found this entertaining in the least. If anyone even reads this blog, can you promote it or something? I mean I write for myself but it'd be nice to have other people admire it as well.
Song of the Day:
Lady DaDa's Nightmare- MGMT
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Summer Job
Everyone basically in the world can relate to the bummer of THE summer job. Fighting off the college students for employment and then working your butt off with a very small compensation.
Last Summer was when I had my first interview for the job I still have. I work at a grocery store, I wont mention the name of it for copyright shit and I don't want to get in trouble for talking shit. When applying for jobs I really did not want one. My parents, like every parent, forces you into back breaking labor.
I will admit I am very socially awkward, I never know what to say when I am in the presence of someone I either have just met or just someone who makes me nervous. I will say stupid things that afterword I would immediately think of a better thing to say. I hated the questions asked in the interview. What can you do to make this store better? Well fuck, I don't know, I'm only applying to be a cashier, I didn't realize I had to actually care about this company. My palms sweaty and mouth dry and my body squirming with adrenaline I just said "I can draw!" What the fuck? Why or no how does that have anything to do with anything??? I quickly was thinking of ways to connect this to the question and bullshit my way out of it. "Uhm, like, I can draw, and I'm really artistic and creative, so there uh are different things I can do to uhm-" Thank god the interviewer thought this was brilliant and took over for me by finishing my thought for me.
Obviously I got the job since I am talking about still having it. Being a cashier is boring, easy, but boring. There are little things I can do to make myself amused while working. Sometimes I will make up a persona with different customers. Sometimes I'll be Maeve, the girl fresh off the boat from Ireland to stay with her cousin for the summer, or Maeve, the southern belle from Texas. There are more accents I can do but have yet been able to mix it into working. The little bit of friends I have made at work think it's hilarious, so that keeps me going. Being an entertainer. I am also known for doodling on comment cards and leave them lying around the cash registers. As boring as work is, there are times that make it worth it. Sometimes I meet the craziest people. I even made a schedule for the different types of people. Monday-Wednesday are the drug addicts that come into the store 5 minutes before we close. Thursday-Friday, married couples with no kids who are going on a date or making a romantic dinner or something like that. Saturday, college kids. Sunday, oh god Sunday. Sunday is the absolute worst. And wouldn't you know, I only work sundays at this moment. Sundays are broken into sections, the early morning are the gym goers and people on their way to church looking for a card or food or something to bring. The afternoon till about 5 or 6 is the worst. This is when the mothers with small children rush in to make their weekly purchase of a billion groceries. Imagine if you will, standing in a small box with a hot machine and quickly trying to put things in a bag a certain way because HOLY SHIT I CAN NOT HAVE MY TISSUE BOX NEXT TO THE GOD DAMN CARROTS. Then there are the annoying little shits trying to play with the conveyer belt and climbing on my station. You would think the moms and dads that are there not doing anything when they should be loading my overcrowded workspace full of their shit into their cart, they don't do shit about their kids. My favorite thing to do is casually reach my hand under the side of the belt where no one can see the switch to turn it on and off and 'click' turn it off. If I'm lucky the kid will know I did it but they can't do shit about it so they start pouting. Other kids just think that it's broken and quickly move away from it. 'But Maeve, don't you feel bad for upsetting the children?? oh the poor children!!' No. I could care less. I hate kids. Anyway. Anyone coming into the store after 7 has a secret. You can figure out what their hiding quickly by observing them. I say they have secrets in a different way rather than omg Sally is secretly a lesbian. No. They come in so late because they don't want anyone to see them, they don't want anyone looking at them. It makes me a little sad sometimes. Old obese men and women coming in to buy five months worth of cat food to last the cats the rest of the week, pimply college nerds that are afraid to talk to anyone as they buy their Magic cards, and then the mothers or care takers of the mentally challenged. I like to be especially friendly with these people because I want them to know, it's okay no one is here to judge you! you are fine, you don't need to be scared! Mostly I get grumpy responses from the older people, blushing faces of the boys, and sweet nice responses from the care taker and person in need of assistance. SEE everyone I DO have a heart. I know, It's so hard to think about. Don't hurt your fragile minds too much. I still get pissed off at people coming into the store after 8:30pm since we close at 9 on sundays.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that, hell yeah, jobs suck. But I mean, what did you think it would be? It's a job and if you're lucky or fortunate enough, not a career. ps. a word of advice to anyone awaiting their first paycheck... lower your expectations then divide that by 2 and you wont cry when you see how much taxes suck.
Song of the Day:
Sweet Misery Blues- Violent Femmes
Last Summer was when I had my first interview for the job I still have. I work at a grocery store, I wont mention the name of it for copyright shit and I don't want to get in trouble for talking shit. When applying for jobs I really did not want one. My parents, like every parent, forces you into back breaking labor.
I will admit I am very socially awkward, I never know what to say when I am in the presence of someone I either have just met or just someone who makes me nervous. I will say stupid things that afterword I would immediately think of a better thing to say. I hated the questions asked in the interview. What can you do to make this store better? Well fuck, I don't know, I'm only applying to be a cashier, I didn't realize I had to actually care about this company. My palms sweaty and mouth dry and my body squirming with adrenaline I just said "I can draw!" What the fuck? Why or no how does that have anything to do with anything??? I quickly was thinking of ways to connect this to the question and bullshit my way out of it. "Uhm, like, I can draw, and I'm really artistic and creative, so there uh are different things I can do to uhm-" Thank god the interviewer thought this was brilliant and took over for me by finishing my thought for me.
Obviously I got the job since I am talking about still having it. Being a cashier is boring, easy, but boring. There are little things I can do to make myself amused while working. Sometimes I will make up a persona with different customers. Sometimes I'll be Maeve, the girl fresh off the boat from Ireland to stay with her cousin for the summer, or Maeve, the southern belle from Texas. There are more accents I can do but have yet been able to mix it into working. The little bit of friends I have made at work think it's hilarious, so that keeps me going. Being an entertainer. I am also known for doodling on comment cards and leave them lying around the cash registers. As boring as work is, there are times that make it worth it. Sometimes I meet the craziest people. I even made a schedule for the different types of people. Monday-Wednesday are the drug addicts that come into the store 5 minutes before we close. Thursday-Friday, married couples with no kids who are going on a date or making a romantic dinner or something like that. Saturday, college kids. Sunday, oh god Sunday. Sunday is the absolute worst. And wouldn't you know, I only work sundays at this moment. Sundays are broken into sections, the early morning are the gym goers and people on their way to church looking for a card or food or something to bring. The afternoon till about 5 or 6 is the worst. This is when the mothers with small children rush in to make their weekly purchase of a billion groceries. Imagine if you will, standing in a small box with a hot machine and quickly trying to put things in a bag a certain way because HOLY SHIT I CAN NOT HAVE MY TISSUE BOX NEXT TO THE GOD DAMN CARROTS. Then there are the annoying little shits trying to play with the conveyer belt and climbing on my station. You would think the moms and dads that are there not doing anything when they should be loading my overcrowded workspace full of their shit into their cart, they don't do shit about their kids. My favorite thing to do is casually reach my hand under the side of the belt where no one can see the switch to turn it on and off and 'click' turn it off. If I'm lucky the kid will know I did it but they can't do shit about it so they start pouting. Other kids just think that it's broken and quickly move away from it. 'But Maeve, don't you feel bad for upsetting the children?? oh the poor children!!' No. I could care less. I hate kids. Anyway. Anyone coming into the store after 7 has a secret. You can figure out what their hiding quickly by observing them. I say they have secrets in a different way rather than omg Sally is secretly a lesbian. No. They come in so late because they don't want anyone to see them, they don't want anyone looking at them. It makes me a little sad sometimes. Old obese men and women coming in to buy five months worth of cat food to last the cats the rest of the week, pimply college nerds that are afraid to talk to anyone as they buy their Magic cards, and then the mothers or care takers of the mentally challenged. I like to be especially friendly with these people because I want them to know, it's okay no one is here to judge you! you are fine, you don't need to be scared! Mostly I get grumpy responses from the older people, blushing faces of the boys, and sweet nice responses from the care taker and person in need of assistance. SEE everyone I DO have a heart. I know, It's so hard to think about. Don't hurt your fragile minds too much. I still get pissed off at people coming into the store after 8:30pm since we close at 9 on sundays.
I guess what I'm trying to say, is that, hell yeah, jobs suck. But I mean, what did you think it would be? It's a job and if you're lucky or fortunate enough, not a career. ps. a word of advice to anyone awaiting their first paycheck... lower your expectations then divide that by 2 and you wont cry when you see how much taxes suck.
Song of the Day:
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Story Time: 1999 summer
One of my favorite stories to tell people is a story from my early childhood. Thinking back to my old neighborhood makes me bittersweet. I miss how safe everyone felt back then, parents letting kids walk to school without an adult, keeping doors unlocked, just having kids being free. I remember my brother and I would spend our summer running up and down the street stopping at houses and asking for kids to come out and play running up to our next door neighbor Mrs. McCormick. She lived there with her daughter, both were very nice older women. She often would stop us as we walked past her house on our way home to give us one of those icy pops in the thin long plastic tubes. She is now gone, and sometimes I wonder if her daughter is still living in that old house next door.
Anyway, back to the story I was originally going to tell... I was sitting in the front lawn, my brother at a friend's house down the street my father in back yard working on a project, and my mother sitting on the porch swing reading keeping an eye on her daughter. The phone must have rang because she got up and walked into the house, trusting that I would stay in the front lawn. I was a curious kid, often running off to be an explorer. We were told, my brother and I shall never go down to the stop sign without a parent because it was out of sight of our house. Well, being the expert explorer I was, of course I had to wonder off. I looked around making sure my mom was still inside. Got up, brushed off my grass stained knees and headed down the street. I could see the stop sign getting closer and closer with each step I took. Being careful not to break my mothers back by stepping on any sort of crack on the sidewalk I was almost there. Then finally, I was there, I reached the stop sign. I stood there in aw of my accomplishment. Finger tips almost able to grasp the rim of sign if I jumped high enough. Concentrating on what I was doing I hadn't realized a brown van had pulled up next to me. I heard the side door slide open. A young man sat there, there was a young boy in a car seat and I trashy looking tramp of a woman with a ratty old scrunchy in the drivers seat. The young man reached out his hand in a gentle swift motion.
"Hey, why don't you come with us? It'll be fun, tell her, tell her how much fun it will be" he elbowed the boy sitting next to him.
"We have a lot of toys, a whole bunch you know, and we can get more.." he burst out. The man, thinking this offer was something I could turn down reached further to me. I just stood there and starred, this was the exact situation my parents had told me about, little kids getting taken and horrible things done to them.
"NO!" I stamped my foot and threw my fists down the man almost looked frightened. Then I dashed away and could hear the van rush off into the distance. I ran back into my yard my heart pounding out of my chest I thought, well this is it, I'm going to be the first 4 year old to have a heart attack. As I lay in the grass I hoped my mother hadn't seen me leave the yard and thank god she hadn't because I would have not heard the end of that even today. She came outside and smiled as I lay in the grass trying to slow my heart down.
Thinking back at this, I keep wondering what would've happened to me if I had gotten in that car? Because of the little boy that was also in the car, I could've been dragged into a child pornography business or something along the lines of that. I wonder if I would've ever been able to come home. Probably not. Lets be real. Most kids that are taken, never get to make it home. One of the saddest things is to look at the missing child registry for whatever state your in. The dates of when people went missing are crazy! Like my friend Alex and I were looking at the pictures listed and there were kids still listed as missing from 1934.
I don't know, it's just weird and sad to think about. There are a lot of fucked up people out there.
(that was me btw.)
Anyway, back to the story I was originally going to tell... I was sitting in the front lawn, my brother at a friend's house down the street my father in back yard working on a project, and my mother sitting on the porch swing reading keeping an eye on her daughter. The phone must have rang because she got up and walked into the house, trusting that I would stay in the front lawn. I was a curious kid, often running off to be an explorer. We were told, my brother and I shall never go down to the stop sign without a parent because it was out of sight of our house. Well, being the expert explorer I was, of course I had to wonder off. I looked around making sure my mom was still inside. Got up, brushed off my grass stained knees and headed down the street. I could see the stop sign getting closer and closer with each step I took. Being careful not to break my mothers back by stepping on any sort of crack on the sidewalk I was almost there. Then finally, I was there, I reached the stop sign. I stood there in aw of my accomplishment. Finger tips almost able to grasp the rim of sign if I jumped high enough. Concentrating on what I was doing I hadn't realized a brown van had pulled up next to me. I heard the side door slide open. A young man sat there, there was a young boy in a car seat and I trashy looking tramp of a woman with a ratty old scrunchy in the drivers seat. The young man reached out his hand in a gentle swift motion.
"Hey, why don't you come with us? It'll be fun, tell her, tell her how much fun it will be" he elbowed the boy sitting next to him.
"We have a lot of toys, a whole bunch you know, and we can get more.." he burst out. The man, thinking this offer was something I could turn down reached further to me. I just stood there and starred, this was the exact situation my parents had told me about, little kids getting taken and horrible things done to them.
"NO!" I stamped my foot and threw my fists down the man almost looked frightened. Then I dashed away and could hear the van rush off into the distance. I ran back into my yard my heart pounding out of my chest I thought, well this is it, I'm going to be the first 4 year old to have a heart attack. As I lay in the grass I hoped my mother hadn't seen me leave the yard and thank god she hadn't because I would have not heard the end of that even today. She came outside and smiled as I lay in the grass trying to slow my heart down.
Thinking back at this, I keep wondering what would've happened to me if I had gotten in that car? Because of the little boy that was also in the car, I could've been dragged into a child pornography business or something along the lines of that. I wonder if I would've ever been able to come home. Probably not. Lets be real. Most kids that are taken, never get to make it home. One of the saddest things is to look at the missing child registry for whatever state your in. The dates of when people went missing are crazy! Like my friend Alex and I were looking at the pictures listed and there were kids still listed as missing from 1934.
I don't know, it's just weird and sad to think about. There are a lot of fucked up people out there.
(that was me btw.)
Song of the Day:
John Wayne Gacy Jr. - Sufjan Stevens
Perfect right?
Friday, July 18, 2014
Post #1
Being an 18 year old girl about to start college, some may believe I have yet to build a political, and realistic opinion for I have yet to know the real hardships and how the world really works. What people do not realize is that I have been observing human nature since I was born, and I have been taking notes.
What disappoints me the most at the age I am, surrounded by the people I am surrounded by, is the lack of self love. I only wish that one day my friends, family, even strangers, could just look in the mirror and see what I see. Everyone thinks I'm so full of shit when I say that I honestly base how 'attractive' someone is mostly on what their personality is like rather than their physical appearance. If you are a beautiful person on the inside, I can see that, even without speaking to someone, I can tell by how they walk, how they write, how they talk. However, like life, nothing is just black and white. There are times when I see people change into ugly monsters. I don't like when anyone says "wow, they just showed their true colors". No, they simply have as much potential to be an asshole as you do and you just witnessed them being a total dick. I am not exempt from this theory either, there are times that I see myself as a beautiful person, and there are times when I think I am the grossest thing to ever walk the earth. This has nothing to do with self-esteem. This is all dealing with how I treat others, how I treat myself. Respecting yourself is just as important as respecting one another.
Respect is something very important to me actually. In the 9th grade, my literature teacher told us that there are two kinds of respect; respect that can be earned and reciprocated, and respect that is mandatory due to one being of higher stature than the other( example: A student must respect their teacher.). The second I heard this I thought, bull shit, if a teacher or anyone I don't care, if I am not treated with the respect I deserve, then I shall not respect them either. There have been many occasions where I have quarreled with teachers over this problem. I was showing a lack of respect because I was disrespected. My mother hates this idea that I have, she thinks I am "stooping to their level" which I suppose in some instances may be true, but like I give a shit.
Well, as a beginning to this blog, I feel I have made my points for the day.
My song of the day:
To Build a Home by the Cinematic Orchestra
What disappoints me the most at the age I am, surrounded by the people I am surrounded by, is the lack of self love. I only wish that one day my friends, family, even strangers, could just look in the mirror and see what I see. Everyone thinks I'm so full of shit when I say that I honestly base how 'attractive' someone is mostly on what their personality is like rather than their physical appearance. If you are a beautiful person on the inside, I can see that, even without speaking to someone, I can tell by how they walk, how they write, how they talk. However, like life, nothing is just black and white. There are times when I see people change into ugly monsters. I don't like when anyone says "wow, they just showed their true colors". No, they simply have as much potential to be an asshole as you do and you just witnessed them being a total dick. I am not exempt from this theory either, there are times that I see myself as a beautiful person, and there are times when I think I am the grossest thing to ever walk the earth. This has nothing to do with self-esteem. This is all dealing with how I treat others, how I treat myself. Respecting yourself is just as important as respecting one another.
Respect is something very important to me actually. In the 9th grade, my literature teacher told us that there are two kinds of respect; respect that can be earned and reciprocated, and respect that is mandatory due to one being of higher stature than the other( example: A student must respect their teacher.). The second I heard this I thought, bull shit, if a teacher or anyone I don't care, if I am not treated with the respect I deserve, then I shall not respect them either. There have been many occasions where I have quarreled with teachers over this problem. I was showing a lack of respect because I was disrespected. My mother hates this idea that I have, she thinks I am "stooping to their level" which I suppose in some instances may be true, but like I give a shit.
Well, as a beginning to this blog, I feel I have made my points for the day.
My song of the day:
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