Ponderings on Jury Duty

I have just completed my first jury duty experience, and to be quite frank, it is an experience I would prefer not to repeat. EVER.

The process began with the jury selection on Monday. Our group was sent to the courtroom and told that 31 random names would be drawn. I really did not want to be selected, not because I didn't want to serve, but because it just wasn't a good time. I was just off for two weeks, had been back for two weeks, and now this! As we made our way up the stairs to the second floor, my purse came open and all of the contents spilled out. A couple of men stopped to help me gather up my things, and then we were on our way. We grabbed the last few remaining seats in the gallery and waited for things to begin.
They explained to us that the court clerk would draw 31 names at random to comprise the jury pool. At this time the defendants, the defense attorneys, the prosecutor and of course the judge, were all already in the courtroom. The first name drawn was the man sitting next to me who had helped me pick up my things. I knew before they said it that my name was going to be the next name called. I also knew that instant that I would be on this jury. I don't know how I knew, I just knew.
At one point during the jury selections, there was a woman who said that she did not feel that she could serve on a jury because according to God, it was not her place to judge another.

As the trial began, it became evident that this was by no means a clear cut case. It was a sexual assault case, and therefore by nature came down to he said she said. I found myself wondering why I couldn't have been selected for something simpler, like a drug trial, where the evidence would be more clear cut, more obvious, less ambiguous.

This is by no means a complaint. It was a very good experience, and I can honestly say that I learned a great deal about how I relate with others. For example, I have very little tolerance for people who have to state their opinion about every little thing without letting anyone else complete a thought or get a word in edgewise. I also have very little tolerance for people who think that just because they experienced something one way, that EVERY other person who experiences the same thing should have the same feelings, the same reactions, the same responses. In this intolerance of mine, I tend to be more blunt and direct than some people are used to, and that is clearly something I need to continue to work on.

One of the most interesting parts of the experience was watching people come to their ultimate and final decisions and what it took for each person. We deliberated the case for about nine hours total--about five last night (until 11:30 pm) and four today. Nine total hours debating one simple point: Was the sexual activity in question consensual or not? There were many side points confirming or refuting that we discussed, but ultimately there was just that one single question to be answered, and it took twelve of us NINE HOURS to agree on the answer. I have to say that it was one of the most exhausting experiences of my life. It is hard enough to get TWO people to agree, let alone TWELVE!

So, in a nutshell, I am glad to have experienced this, just for the mere sake of seeing inside of the judicial process first hand. I am tired from the effort of reaching a consensus, which last night I had thought we were never going to reach. I am grateful that the trial is done and over with and I can now return to my life as usual.

Only 37 and a half more hours...

Less than two more days until D-day. And I mean that quite literally. I am feeling nervous, but not nearly as nervous as I had expected to feel at this point. Last night I had a dream that it had already happened. In the dream, it started right when I was being put to sleep. When I woke up, my mom and dad were there. My dad peeled back my bandages to peek and then said, they look great. I hope you like them. It was kind of creepy. Then after that, we went downstairs to look for something to eat. We took the elevator down, and then we were in a casino. (That's pretty depressing that in my dream, even the hospital had a casino!) Then I decided I didn't feel well enough to eat, so we went back to my room and I went to sleep. Then I rolled over in my dream (as well as in real life) and I freaked out because I was supposed to be sleeping only on my back. That is when I woke up.
Now I'm trying to get my apartment clean for when I come home from my mom's. I am waiting for the dishwasher to get done so that I can go to bed. Then tomorrow, after I get the rest of my cleaning done, I will head out to my mom's house, where we will be doing more cleaning because my mom decided to make our weekly Dancing with the Stars ritual a party of sorts. Usually it's just my mom and I and sometimes my friend Christina, but since it is the night before my surgery, my mom decided to make it a party and invite a few more people. There may be about seven of us watching it.
In other news, since I figure I won't be able to drive to church next week, I asked my mom if she would take me and come with me. I told her that we no longer pray out loud in big groups, which is what freaked her out last time she came with me. Upon hearing that, she agreed to come with me. Yay! My sinister plot has succeeded. The reality of it is that it will be very nice to not show up to church alone and to not sit alone and to not have to work so hard to find someone to do communion with. I know this may sound a bit selfish, and I really don't mean it that way. I really do want my mom to come with me for her sake. But I can still see the advantages for myself. And it will be nice for her to meet all of the people who are more family to me that most of my family. I hope that I feel up to venturing out on Sunday.
I don't think I have anything else to add because my brain is turning into mush due to the lateness of the hour. :) Good night all!

12 days and counting

Only twelve more days until my surgery. If you don't know what I'm talking about, it would be detailed in the posts marked "for ladies only". The rebellious men who are close friends ignored those comments and read them anyway. So if you really want to know, go back and check out those posts.
At any rate, as I get closer and closer, I get even more nervous. But at the same time, I am very excited, and I am very much looking forward to taking up running again in the early part of next year. But despite the excitement, the nerves are the dominant feeling right now. If ya'll could be praying that I would be able to get rest over the next couple of weeks and for the weeks following the surgery. It actually occurs on November 13. Also prayers that it would go well and that I would heal quickly would also be appreciated.
I have lots of lists of things to do between now and then. Things to buy, things to pack to bring to my mom's house, things not to do. And I keep going back to the lists, worried that I'm overlooking some major thing that I need to do beforehand, even though I know that it's just because I am nervous.
In the spirit of change that is happening and is soon to come, I updated my blog colors to reflect the season... I suppose it just means that in a few weeks, after Thanksgiving, I will have to change the colors again to reflect Christmas. Oh well, we'll get to that soon enough...

And I'm still laughing...

So I was getting my evening news update, as I frequently do, from rgj.com when I came across an article about "GodTube". This is apparently supposed to be the Christian version of YouTube. I clicked on the link, just out of curiosity, and I found an add for this website: click here to laugh.

I have no words to express my feelings about that. Just laughter. I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I did!

Being the Light

So this morning as we all sat in church, a thought occurred to me about being the light. Many times we think that there is only one way of doing things. The problem with this is that when we meet new people who have not yet come to Jesus, we teach them to do things our way. We expect them to look at us for all direction. But the problem with continuously looking directly at a light is that it can cause blind spots in one's vision. Instead, we should be teaching them to look outwards at the world using our light until they find their own. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, but it makes perfect sense in my head.

The Countdown

If you've been keeping up on my ladies only livejournal, I've written a new post. That is all.

Get the latest scoop!

Coming soon

A new and improved me!

I have posted an update at my ladies only (and males who are bold enough to disregard the "ladies only" warning) livejournal. Check it out.

My Favorite Things.

Today was a day for my favorite things. Yesterday was my uncle's memorial service. I was not by any means close to my uncle. I spent a lot of time at his house as a child, though most of what I remember involves my aunt--he was not there for those memories. What I do remember is watching wrestling with him. Usually I watched with my dad, and when the special events like Wrestlemania came up, my dad, my brother and I all went to my uncle's house to watch the events on pay-per-view. We all went together to watch wrestling at Lawlor. Yes, I am more red-neck than any of you thought possible. I really did watch and enjoy wrestling as a child. I even went so far as to make signs for the trips to Lawlor. I was one of the loudest people there. (Please keep in mind that all of this happened before I was even in high school.) The service was a military service at the cemetery in Fernley. Since it rained/snowed, it had to be move indoors. I did pretty well for most of it since we weren't close. But when they played Taps I lost it. I always cry when I hear Taps. I'm such a sissy. Then again, it was the first time in my life that I think I saw my dad tear up. I didn't see that even when his father died. This was my dad's younger brother. It was somewhat devasting to see my father get upset. My father is the stoic type and doesn't ever show his emotions. To see him stray from this pattern was rather difficult for me.
So anyway, today I woke up and felt like spending an entire day doing things I enjoy. I went for some retail therapy at Target. I mostly only bought things that I needed. Here is what I what I bought:
1 couch cover (originally 99.99)
My Dad's B-day Card
2 boxes Kleenex
1 pkg paper towels
1 pkg toilet paper
1 dress
1 shirt
1 shower curtain.
2 kitchen towels
2 potholders
2 120 pg. notebooks.

The game is: Guess how much I spent on all of these items. I will not reveal it until I've received some guesses.

The next thing that I did today that falls into my favorite things is "blush wine". I may or may not have finished off the entire bottle by myself. And I may or may not have continued to drink after that. I may have actually gotten tipsy. And then I may or may not have proceeded to talk to Becky for about an hour or so, while tipsy. I enjoyed our conversation during which we discussed the honest advantages of living in Nashville rather than in Reno or Vegas as a single female, as we both are.
Here's the catch: I have had dreams about marrying a single individual who is currently in Las Vegas at the age of 33.
I have also have had dreams that lead me to believe that the person that I will eventually marry is not even in Reno. So which dream am I to believe? The one that says that the person that treated me like trash will be the one that I marry at the age of 33... Or the one that says that the person that I will marry does not live in Reno, where I currently live, and have lived for my entire life.
Let me be honest for a moment... I have to say that the option that the person I will marry does not live here is much more tempting. At least then the fact that I have not met a single person who is interested in me for more than sex by the age of 28 is not entirely my fault. At least then, the fact that I spent 6 years in love with someone who didn't love me in return would not destroy all hope I have/had of finding someone, someday. I truly believe I may have better luck outside of Reno. Maybe I'm not meant to live in Reno forever. But how can I ever find out if I never leave?

Come what may

An interesting thing happened this weekend. I have been pondering the idea of buying a condo for a little while now. Every once in a while, I get the urge to look again, just for the heck of it. Yesterday I saw once that I'd be somewhat interested in. Just out of curiosity, I started checking around in other cities to see what I could get for the same amount of money. I discovered that for the same amount of money that I would spend on a mediocre 864 sq ft condo here, I could buy a 1900 sq ft, three bedroom, two bath house with a large yard elsewhere. Where, you might be asking. Nashville. I love Nashville and the cost of living there always makes me wish that I had a reason to live there. Once again, yesterday, I sat discussing with my dad how much I wish I had a reason to live there.
As some of you may know, at one point I did think I might have a reason to live there. I visited a college there about getting a Masters in Creative Writing. I had already been accepted. But when I really thought about it, it wasn't what I really wanted. I didn't want to live an hour outside of Nashville, and I didn't want to settle for a Masters in Creative Writing, when what I really wanted was a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. This is where things start to get interesting. Last night, I was talking to Becky, and she was pondering grad school, and I have never really stopped pondering it, but they just have never had the programs that I'm interested in available in a city I'd like to live in. For some reason, I decided to check out the web page for Vanderbilt (in Nashville) and see what masters programs they do have. I'd looked into it before and they didn't have an MFA program. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at their web page to find that beginning Fall of 2008, Vanderbilt University will begin offering an MFA in creative writing.
So, that is a very interesting and exciting prospect, and I have NO IDEA how it will ever happen, but I have faith that it will happen if that is what God has for me.
I just thought I'd let you all know...

When I feel like nothing matters

At all points in my life, there is always a song that seems to suit what I am going through at any given time. Right now, the song that suits my mood is one called "Anyway" by Martina McBride. If you don't like country that's too bad. Please don't comment on your dislike country music on this post because it is irrelevant and has nothing to do with the post and I already know which of you don't like country, so I don't need to hear it again. The lyrics of the song that suits my mood at the moment are as follows:

You can spend your whole life building,

Something from nothing

One storm can come and blow it all away,

Build it anyway

You can chase a dream

That seems so out of reach

And you know it might not ever come your way

Dream it anyway

Chorus

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good

And when I pray

It doesn’t always turn out like I think it should

But I do it anyway,

I do it anyway

This world’s gone crazy

And it’s hard to believe

That tomorrow will be better than today

Believe it anyway

You can love someone with all your heart,

For all the right reasons,

And in a moment they can choose to walk away

Love ‘em anyway

(Repeat Chorus)

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good

And when I pray

It doesn’t always turn out like I think it should

But I do it anyway,

I do it anyway

You can pour your soul out singing

A song you believe in

That tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang

Sing it anyway,

Yeah sing it anyway

I sing, I dream, I love

Anyway

Mostly, the reason why this song is so timely for me is because I actually tend to do the opposite. When I start to think things don't matter, or when I feel like I'm not getting anywhere, I actually just give up. I don't do it anyway. I just stop doing anything. I mostly just sleep and watch TV. Yes, I know, bad habit, blah blah blah. That's why I'm posting the song, as a reminder to myself to do 'it' even though it never seems to change anything. To pray even though my life continues to remain the same. To go to the gym even though it hurts. To keep writing even though I don't think it's any good. To clean even though nobody will see it if I don't. To talk to my friends even though all I think I want is to be alone. I'm trying to work on doing it anyway. On valuing my commitments to myself as much as I value my commitments to others. I would never treat another person the way that I treat myself. If I told someone else that I would meet them somewhere, I would be there, probably early. But if I tell myself that I'm going to do something, I usually just blow it off. This needs to stop. I need to keep my commitments to myself in the same way that I would keep my commitments to others. Only in this way can I keep my commitments to God.

Some thoughts on the Sabbath

This morning I heard a lot of talk about pruning that happened during the sabbath--I did not experience the same pruning. I am usually not lacking in the pruning department. For me, it's usually the regrowth that is so hard. During the sabbath, this is more of what I experienced. I am always cut to the heart when we have talks focused on how beautiful we are as God created us. I've always battled with self-confidence issues, and before the sabbath, I was terrified that it was going to be an incredibly lonely time for me. I thought nobody would want to see me and so I would be spending the whole time alone. But something happened during this time that I didn't count on, or realize. I didn't hate the time that I was alone, but even more, when people that I know mentioned getting together, I truly believed that they wanted to see me. I knew that it wasn't just lip service. I also realized that it was time to let go of a burden I didn't need anymore. For more details on that, you can visit my other blog at spkn4_4ever.livejournal.com. The post there is a cathartic rant of sorts, and if you are easily offended by language, you may not want to go there, but Plucky encouraged me to share it with the Hillside bloggers, so there it is for your perusal if you so choose.
So, in the end, I feel more confident in my ability to make friends, and I have pruned a friendship that was more damaging than anything...

For Women Only

I mean it! If you are a male and you are still reading this STOP NOW!

As some of you ladies know, there is a surgery I am working towards. I have created a separate journal for the purpose of detailing my experiences. This journal is for WOMEN ONLY PLEASE!!!!

This ladies only journal is here. I have made my first post and will be making more as soon as I find out more about this.

Ten Years Later (Warning: Long Post)

It's amazing how little people can change over ten years, though their lives are drastically different. Yesterday I attended my ten year high school reunion. The most enjoyable part of the whole experience was making people try to guess who I am. While most of my classmates looked exactly like they did in high school, I do not. I have, fortunately, overcome the unfortunate experience of looking like I was twelve, as I did ten years ago. In fact now, I can sometimes even pass for twenty-one. Please, no comments about how lucky I am to look young. I am fully aware that I will appreciate it later, but right now, it does not work to my advantage. But enough about that.
The day's events started with a barbecue at the park. I arrived to find only a few people so far, all of whom were actually responsible for planning the event. This was despite the fact that I intentionally showed up about five minutes late so that I wasn't the first person there. And still I was there before people really started showing up. I walked up to the event organizers and they looked at me as though they were about to tell me that the area was reserved and then one of them recognized me. They were actually quicker than most, possibly because they have seen a more recent picture of me since I did post a picture on classmates.com. I found myself talking with a girl whose name is also a month. We had a couple of classes together and she was always kind to me in high school, but we didn't exactly travel with the same crowds. Most of my friends were actually a year behind me in school. While talking to this girl, I found out that she also had younger friends in school. We chatted until more people began to show up and we started to great them as they arrived. After about 20 people had showed up, it was time for the food to begin. The guys (spouses and fiances of the organizers) brought over the hamburgers and hot dogs and dug in. I sat next to the girl with a name like a month and across from culinary school drop-out. On my other side was the child of one of my former classmates that I didn't recognize until someone else said his name. Apparently this was mutual because he sat next to me for a half an hour talking to all of us before he finally looked at me and said "Jeni Hardie!!! I finally figured out who I was talking to!" That was probably the most amusing moment of the entire barbecue, though I did get a lot of looks of shock from people who didn't recognize me until I took my sunglasses off.
A short time after the most amusing experience of the barbecue came the most awkward moment of the entire day. I was sitting at the check in table with the girl with a name like a month and who should appear but Momma's Boy, aka my last boyfriend from 9 years ago. Yes, I know it's been 9 years, and I do no wish things had gone any differently, but there's just something about seeing him that just made me feel so bitter. The thing is, he knew what I was going through at the time we were dating. I told him that I was cutting myself, and he called me a liar. He made no attempt to help me-- he told me that what I was doing was stupid (I won't argue that point, but at the time, it really didn't help) and that he just couldn't deal with it. Needless to say the relationship did not end on good terms, and what I did afterwards did nothing to help my memories of him. At any rate, when he came to the table to check in with his wife (who was actually one of my friends from the class of 1998, poor soul) she came to talk to me while I pretended he didn't exist. Fortunately for me, it seems that he didn't recognize me either. I spent most of the rest of the barbecue talking to Renaissance Girl (Momma's Boy's wife) and the wives of two guys I've known since kindergarten (who also happen to be a couple of my class of 98 friends--yes, a lot of people I know married each other!) After I'd been talking to them for a while, Momma's boy came over, looked at me and said "Holy crap! Jeni! I didn't recognize you with your dark hair," and then he sat down with Renaissance girl, which I took as my cue to go talk to somebody else. I chatted with Culinary School Drop-out for a little while, he introduced me to two of his three kids. The barbecue wrapped up and we all began to leave, only to meet up again in the evening for the dinner and dancing event.
I had purchased a new outfit for the dinner event when I went shopping on Friday. I went home and relaxed for an hour or so before it was time to start getting ready for the evening event. I gave my hair a good dousing with hairspray and unsuccessfully attempted to curl it. As is par for the course with my hair, despite spending an hour with a curling iron, all I ended up with was straight hair with curled under ends and a little bit of extra volume. I know some curly haired people would pay good money for hair as straight as mine, but it truly is a nightmare trying to curl this hair. At any rate, I did my hair, I put on full makeup, which you all know I very rarely do, and I got dressed for the party. Once again, I was one of the first to arrive. This time, it was good to be early because there were a lot of jokes about "the chicken or the fish" and it was just rather entertaining.
Jewelry Seller asked me to sit at a table with her and her husband. Also joining us at the table were Baby Voice and Goalie Girl along with their husbands. We had one more open seat at our table which was being reserved for Madame President. She didn't show up until dinner was nearly over. Dessert was already being served when she arrived, along with ES Bully. The dinner was nothing special. The salmon was good, but not great. The risotto was awful and our whole table laughed each time the servers returned to the back with another pile of yellow mush. The dessert made up for the risotto that tasted of dirty dishwater. It was a strawberry mousse in a chocolate cup (much like the miniature versions you can find in the buffet.)
After dinner, they subjected us to the utter torture of watching the senior slide show, which was awful the first time around and even more agonizing this time. Of course the people who were buddy buddy with the yearbook teacher/student council adviser enjoyed it, because it was filled with pictures of them. The rest of us who did not go drinking at Pyramid Lake with the yearbook teacher were lucky if we even had ONE picture in the slide show.
Next, we opened the time capsule (which was apparently created at one of the Pyramid Lake parties, because most of us had no knowledge of its existence).
Finally it was time for dancing/mingling. I found myself chatting with Madame President who seemed really excited to see me, even though we were never friends. Then I moved on to Captain Pompous, whom I've known since third grade, and therefore I am able to overlook his pompous nature. I then went back out to chat with my my class of 98 friends, but before long I was drug onto the dance floor by Birdy, which was rather shocking because he is one of the "popular crowd." He was one of the guys that everyone had looked forward to seeing. Don't think this is going anywhere, because he was totally smashed at the time and will probably not remember that it happened. He may or may not also be married. At any rate, he insisted that I go dance, which I had been avoiding because I felt like I didn't belong there because only the "popular crowd people were dancing". After one dance, he disappeared and I went to go sit by Miss Hawaii (and when I say that, I mean it... she really was Miss Hawaii--and she actually was one of my friends in high school). I talked with her for a little while, but was drug back onto the dance floor by Birdy. He disappeared, but Madame President insisted that I had to stay and dance anyway and Fashion Queen agreed. (Fashion Queen is a girl I've known since kindergarten, we were in Girl Scouts together and she was probably the most popular girl in school every year, and yet she still remained one of the kindest people I've ever met. I cannot ever remember her being mean to even a single person...) At any rate, somehow I ended up dancing for the rest of the night, with people I had been intimidated by in high school. It was actually kind of empowering. I don' know if that makes sense to anyone but me, but it made me feel so good. The evening ended a little after eleven and the girl with a name like a month wanted to exchange phone numbers so we can hang out sometime, and Madame President also suggested that she'd like to hang out sometime. The people who had been my friends before did nothing to attempt to keep in contact. It was rather a surprising outcome. I expected to meet up with old friends, but I never expected to make new friends. It's nice to know that I can still do that...

Just Visiting...

I have friend that I've known for almost ten years. When I first became a Christian, our friendship started to fall apart. She didn't like my new friends. She didn't like that I wasn't the same that I was before. She didn't like that I didn't just ignore her racist jokes anymore... She didn't like that I was always at Bible study or just hanging out with my friends from Bible study. I invited her to join me, but she didn't really want to. She wanted to be her own separate part of my life, but I couldn't really separate my life into parts. We were still friends, but we didn't see each other much anymore. My last year at UNR, our time together had become especially sparse. I saw her probably 8 times that entire year. After my graduation party, things just fell apart, and we drifted apart for about a year and a half. When we came back together, she was more open-minded, more receptive to talking about her faith and what it meant to her, and why I had dove in so passionately. I will admit, I was probably too pushy with her sometimes, but it was only because I was desperately trying to keep her in my life, I was trying to get her to fit into the new life I was finding.
Over the last year, my friend has become a new person, too. She used to clam up when religion (or politics) came up in conversation. Now she starts the conversations. She has come to realize that faith doesn't have to be something that she experiences alone, but really can be something that she can share with others. This brings me to the title of this post.
I had shared with my friend that we were on sabbath break from church. She wanted to try out a new church, different from the traditional church that she was used to, and so she asked me to go with her. I really appreciated this opportunity since this was something I had always wanted to share with this friend. I agreed to go to this church with her, despite my expectations that I know it to be against many of my beliefs of what a church should be.
We entered the building and it instantly reminded me of the lobby of a high rise office building-- glossy wood walls, tile floor, rows of doors along both sides. The woman who had invited my friend took us on a tour. Tables were set up off to the left and a cafe type window was cut into the wall where people could place an order for the food and beverages they would like to buy. We proceeded along the left to the stairs where we moved to the second floor. The second floor was entirely offices except for one door. The door opened up to the balcony of the auditorium/sanctuary. She informed us that including the balcony they could seat 850. The seats were all theatre style, padded seats bolted to the floor--level after level after level of these seats. At the front where the worship was played and the message delivered was a stage with curtains and all. Not just a raised platform, but an actual stage. We proceeded back down the stairs, and she pointed out where the kids area was, but didn't take us over. She said that since we didn't have kids we probably weren't interested.
Once the service started, things got even more over-the-top. The worship was reminiscent of a rock concert with a full light show and fog. At this point I noticed that there were six video screens, probably 72 inches, placed throughout the sanctuary. There was a camera person zooming in on each member of the worship team individually and displaying them up on the screen. And during their announcements, they advertised their upcoming water baptism and barbecue. They reminded everybody to see x person to purchase their baptism barbecue ticket for $5.00.
The experience made me so much more grateful to be a part of a church that does not promote this culture of excess. I am glad to be part of a church that is not so big and so focused on the production that nobody gets to know anybody. I miss all you guys!

You're not a real coffee drinker!

If you think you're a big coffee drinker, think again. I was just browsing and came across this story. This is hilarious! I cannot imagine how sick I would be if I tried this:
Too many Starbucks, too little time

Can this really be the end?

Captain of the geeks reporting in. I just completed my marathon reading session after picking up my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I started reading at about 2 am and I just finished at about 5:30 pm. I did pause in there for a short nap, about an hour and a half. But now I am done. I am kind of sad that the whole series is over. That there will be no more of Harry Potter's adventures to read. I will say nothing about the content of the book at this point so as not to spoil anything for people who haven't started and/or finished yet. I suppose now I shall have to resort to reading the whole series OVER AND OVER again. (Not that I didn't do that already, but now it is complete, so it's different.)

Geekism is in my genes

So tomorrow is the release of the seventh and final Harry Potter book. I read through books one through six a few weeks ago and I got done too early. I had to read a couple more books, see the fifth movie and then start over with books five and six. My eagerness to try to determine what is going to happen in book seven has gotten my mom interested in the books. I've been trying to talk her into reading them for five years, and finally she decided to give them a chance. She originally only took the first book because she wasn't sure if she was going to like them since she usually reads mysteries. A couple days after I gave her the first book, she asked me to get out the next book for her so that she could pick it up when she came to get my cat. (She was watching Smokey while I was in Napa a couple of weekends ago.)
I knew that this would happen. I knew that my mom would enjoy them and want to get through them as quickly as she could. After all, the last series I got her hooked on, she finished reading 14 books in about a month.
Today when I asked my mom how far she was in book four of the Harry Potter series, she tried to defend herself as though I was going to make fun of her for reading slow and told me that there are more important things than books. I pretended to freak out and said, "You mean I shouldn't be staying at home reading when I'm supposed to be at work." She laughed and said that I only go to work so that I can pay for my books. My response: "Yeah, I don't even bother with rent anymore-- just books." And her response: "You have to pay rent so that you have a place to keep your books."
So apparently my mom thinks I am a geek. I haven't even bought very many books recently. The last book I bought was the most recent in the series that she's also addicted to and she read it before I did. Mind you, once I got my hands on it, I read it in one night... But come on--I might as well enjoy all of this reading time while I am single because we all know that if I ever get married, I won't have this sort of time then.

I may be a geek, but I think I have evidence that it's hereditary.

That's one bitter apple!

I know this might sound completely ridiculous, but I really hate that Adam and Eve had to go and spoil things for all of creation. I mean if it wasn't for that one darned apple, we would have so much less fuss.
Picture the scene shortly after this problem began.

Eve: Oh, Adam... Does this sheep skin make me look fat?
Adam: Grunts
Eve: I'm serious. I need help picking out an outfit.
Adam: Grunts
Eve: Okay, so do you like the fig leaf or the maple leaf better
Adam: (raised eyebrows) Which one's easier to take off?
Eve: (hits Adam with her purse) This is really important. I'm afraid the fig leave might be too skimpy. It might make me look cheap.
Adam: (looks down at his fig leave and shrugs)

We wouldn't have to worry about whether or not we can afford to buy all the latest fashion... We wouldn't have to worry about whether the same size will fit us in every brand... And we CERTAINLY wouldn't have to worry about trying on 40 different swimsuits and still not finding even one that fit in a manner becoming of a modest Christian woman.
Then again, one could argue in the case of swimsuits that being a man would be quite advantageous. After all, then you only have to worry about finding a pair of shorts that fits around your waist. Being a woman trying to find a bathing suit is probably comparable to being a man and trying to find a new pair of flip flops... And it's all because of Adam and Eve.

The moral of the story:
Number of swimsuits tried on today: 10
Number of swimsuits purchased: 0

Enough Adventure for One Night

It was a pretty peaceful day. I went to my parents' house and watched Take the Lead with my mom. We ate bacon and eggs and then I watched Scoop with both of my parents. Nice and calm. We then went to Sam's Club, which was less crowded than usual, got all of the samples we could, made our purchases and continued to Barnes and Noble to purchase the thirteenth book in a series that my mother and I both read. I let her take the book first since at the moment I am making my way through the Harry Potter series again before book seven comes out... I am completely aware of how geeky this sounds and so I will add a little more to that fire. At Barnes and Noble I also purchased a paper back copy of the sixth Harry Potter book because I don't like to write in my hard cover books. My parents looked at me as though I was completely insane, not understanding why one would want to write in a book in the first place... Of course they wouldn't understand... They are not book nerds. At any rate, this still sounds like a normal day, right?
So we make our way to Baldini's because my parents like the beef barley soup. For the third week in a row, we have the same waiter. My dad said that they also had him for three weeks prior to the first week that I went with them. Apparently, every time that I've come with them, the waiter has not charge my parents for their soup, nor has he charged for my soda. My dad is convinced that it has something to do with me... I will neither admit nor deny that. I am just amused by it.
After we are done at Baldini's and on our way back to my apartment, my mom's best friend calls to ask if we want to meet up with her because she's going to dinner. My mom agrees, so we decide we'll just have dessert or a drink since we've already eaten. This is where the adventure begins. My mom's best friend is in the mood for Olive Garden. As we get closer we see tons of emergency vehicles. Just as we were about to make a left onto Peckham, a firetruck flips around and blocks off traffic. So we have to merge back over to go straight. We get to Virginia, then to Kietzke and see that there are approximately 15 police cars in the Olive Garden parking lot. We make our way in, find a place to park and get out of the car. Terri has put our names in, but the restaurant is not allowed to let anyone in or out. So we wait because Terri doesn't want to eat anywhere else... She doesn't want to take her food to go and come over to my place and eat (since it's close) and she doesn't want to go home until she's had her soup from Olive Garden. While we are waiting, we hear five or six different variations of what has happened. The first story is that a guy who lives in the apartment complex shot his girlfriend and then when the police showed up, he shot a policeman. The second variation is that a guy shot his girlfriend somewhere else--the police were chasing him and he crashed into something and fled into the apartment complex and they were trying to find him. The variations just continue from there. According to the news reports, nobody was hurt in the incident, so all of the tales we heard while waiting to get into the Olive Garden were bunk. But I still say that the experience was quite enough adventure for one night...

Just one of those days...

My life is pretty good right now. I like my new job. I'm six days shy of proving my old boss wrong (she said I wouldn't last three months). I have actually been getting some attention from guys recently, (one asked for my # last weekend, and I got free drinks from the other last night...) which is very unusual for me. I have paid off all of my credit cards. I can probably buy a laptop soon. And yet right now, I am feeling kind of down. It has nothing to do with MY life. My life is pretty darn good right now. It has more to do with my family. Some things are not going well in my family right now. I am worried that my brother is unhappy, which makes me unhappy. My brother deserves to be happy.
*****
Also, I have a nephew who has gotten in some trouble recently and both he and his mother are trying to blame the trouble on everyone but themselves. This frustrates me because that's how it always is with them. EVERYTHING is always someone else's fault. I know it's not my place to judge, but I just wish they would step up and take responsibilty once in a while. They have a victim mentality in ALL situations. This is part of the reason I don't enjoy their company. My sister always has some tall tale about why an incident wasn't her fault or the fault of her child. It's not her daughter's fault that she snuck out and drove a car without a license--if it wasn't for her friend...
*****
My grandmother on my dad's side is now not speaking to my dad because of an incident at dinner on Tuesday night. My parents decided to take her out for mother's day/her birthday on Tuesday night. As usual, my mom invited my brother, his wife, and me to go along. Last time I didn't go because I had other plans, and so I felt obligated to go this time. We made it through most of dinner with no problems. We were at a buffet, so there was lots of time away from the table. Then when we went to get dessert. I almost never eat dessert, but always at a buffet. I got a tiny sliver of cake and a couple of chocolate mousse cups. As soon as I sat down with it, my grandmother looks at me and says, "You're not going to eat that, are you? That stuff makes you fat." I just said, "Um, okay," and went back to my conversation with Becca. Later in the evening, I told my mom about it and she was PISSED. I wasn't really upset by it or terribly mad because I expect this from her. After all, this is the woman who told me--at my college graduation party, no less-- that maybe I would find a boyfriend if I lost some weight. At any rate, my mom was pissed, told my dad that he needed to talk to his mother about this because it was just rude. My dad talked to her about it, she accused me of being too sensitive and somehow the conversation resulted in my father and my grandmother not speaking.
*****
At any rate, I suppose that my point is that my family, (excluding my parents, my younger brother, my aunt and three of my cousins) is a nightmare to be around. I really don't enjoy their company all that much. All of you fellow Hillsiders are much more family to me than most of my real family. You have shown me more love and acceptance than most of my real family as well. I don't think I could ever truly express how much I appreciate that. I am just glad to have such an awesome church family who accepts me for me whether I am fat or skinny, happy or sad. Thanks to all of you for always being there for me when I need someone and for showing me love like I haven't seen from most of my family. You guys are part of what makes my life so good right now, so seriously, thank you to all of you who have treated me like family.

SO demanding! : P

So I have this friend... Let's just call her Schmecky. Shmecky seems to be waiting for me to write a post about her and her great exodus to the horrible desert of Las Vegas.
Schmecky and I have been great friends for a very long time now. In fact, it almost makes me feel old when I think about how long we have been friends. And now Schmecky is not here and it is very depressing and we all miss her. But it doesn't really seem all that different yet. It's only been a week. I think it hasn't completely sunk in yet that Schmecky is now far far away, only to go far far far far far far far far far far far far far away in a few months. I think the far far away will be easy enough to handle because of the promise of at least a visit or two in sight. The really emotional time for me will be when the far far away becomes the far far far far far far far far far far far far far away. This is not to say that I haven't had a couple of emotional moments, but nothing quite like what I expected.
While we are on the subject of my emotional moments and Schmecky, let me share a rather amusing story about Schmecky. She told me that she'd be disappointed if I didn't cry. After all, as everybody knows, that is what I do best. If they had the job of "professional cryer" somewhere, that would be me. At any rate, she expected me to cry. So on the day of Schmecky's official send off at church, she intentionally did not sit by me because she knew that I would cry. I did, and then all was well. The following Sunday was Schmecky's final Sunday at our church before her exodus, and as we were preparing to leave, people were stopping Schmecky to wish her well on her voyage. After each person, she would try to herd me toward the door. I am convinced that she was trying to get out as quickly as possible so that all of these other goodbyes would not result in me crying. It was quite funny really. I suppose you probably had to be there, but I was VERY amused. In the end, we both escaped the church completely dry.
And that is the beginning of the story of Schmecky's exodus. Stay tuned for future installments of this tale.

I almost got mauled for parking in the bear's driveway!

This is hilarious. I love typos. I love grammar goofs. They make for some of the best laughs:

http://www.cbc.ca/cp/Oddities/070509/K050906AU.html

Fun-filled Day

What a day, what a day. I laughed, I cried, and then I laughed some more. As most of you know, Becky is staying with me this week, and try as I might to avoid it, I'm pretty sure it's going to be an emotional week. I think I've done pretty well so far. Becky has been my best friend for probably about four years now and this morning during the church send off was the first time I cried, but now that I let it happen, I'm pretty sure it's going to be happening on and off all week. But the week will be an opportunity for us to fully enjoy (and annoy :P) each other. So far this is what we've done:
*Becky had her garage sale and I bought some of her stuff (we really do have similar taste)
*We went to Cafe de Thai for lunch yesterday with Mary (and ate the leftovers today)
*We made a very tasty dinner at my house last night after which
*We went to the Chocolate Bar
#######BEDTIME#######
*We went to church where I cried, and Becky laughed at me for crying (not in a mean way, just the awwwww look, Jeni's crying again sort of way...)
*We went to the Hillary Clinton event at Hug High (it was really weird being there again...) more on that at the end of the post. I feel somewhat obligated to blog about it for reasons I will tell ya'll about later if you ask me about it in person...
*We watched Click
*We went to Winco for groceries
*We came back, made another tasty dinner, and watched The Amazing Race and Desperate Housewives. (I know, it's awful)
#######BEDTIME#######
And this is the part where I'm supposed to be going to bed because I work at 7:30 am, but I don't usually go to bed until 11pm anyway, so I still have about 30 min.
And now for my three main thoughts on the Hillary Clinton event:
1. People are really dumb. I know this is a cruel generalization, but it is an unfortunate truth. A couple examples of why people are so dumb:
*They will do the most nonsensical things to get themselves noticed and/or on television. The first person who spoke after the floor was opened up for questions told a long and drawn out story that didn't really result in a question at all. It was a sob story in which he complained about his 60,000 dollars in student loans because he couldn't find a job as a music teacher. I understand that student loans suck, but seriously, if you're going to ask a question, just ask it. And don't blame the "rising cost of education" for your 60,000 dollar student loan. You could have gotten an equally useless degree in music education in state for MUCH less money. (I'm such a jerk, aren't I?)
*When they hear a "promise" being made by a politician they scream and jump for joy as though this promise is already beginning to come true. Perhaps I'm a bit cynical, but I think that jumping for joy over a mere suggestion is a bit ridiculous.
*They will loudly voice their opinions even though those opinions are completely misdirected. When the war in Iraq came up, there were several people who started yelling, "where are the weapons?" I understand that not everyone supports the war, but yelling "where are the weapons" at Hillary Clinton will solve absolutely nothing unless of course it turns out that she does indeed know where the weapons are.
*One woman asked if she could have Hillary's word that if she was elected that she would never lie to the public. How dense do you have to be to think that is possibly? Once again, this may be my cynicism again, but I tend to believe the popular House-ism "Everybody Lies". Not one person can say that they will NEVER lie.

2. I am very amused by the fact that all of the political paraphanalia associated with Hillary's campaign says just "Hillary". Becky suggested that this may be to make her seem more personable. I can see that side of it, but I also think they're trying to keep her from being too strongly associated to the name "Clinton" because of Bill's lies. Not that his are any worse than anyone else's, but some people will never forgive or overlook that. I think they want people to forget that she's married to him--that perhaps she has less of a chance if people are constantly reminded of that fact by having that name "Clinton" all over the place as constant reminders of her husband's indiscretions.

3. I think she made a VERY big mistake when the sugject of immigration came up. A kid in the audience asked what was going to happen with immigration. She basically said we need to keep better track of the illegals, we need to protect the border, we need to hold business accountable for hiring undocumented workers. Blah blah blah the usual. And then the mistake begins. We need to send our neighbors to the south a clear message that they need to start creating their own jobs. They need to learn English when they are here. CRASH The cheers toward that one were severely muted compared to many of the other things she spoke about. I understand the purpose of the statement in terms of trying to gather middle class Nevada votes, but it was completely inappropriate given the audience. If you're holding an open forum at the GSR, sure go ahead and say that. When you're speaking at Hug High School, where a large part of the student body is Hispanic, don't go bashing "our neighbors to the south". It's not a matter of whether what she said is right or wrong--it's a matter of considering one's audience and I really don't think she did when she gave that answer. It doesn't really do any good to win over the middle class white folks of Nevada if you alienate the Hispanic population because they are a growing part of the Nevada voting population.

I know. I bet ya'll are shocked. You never thought I would post anything about politics. (I probably wouldn't have gone if Becky hadn't been going, but I'm glad I did. I got some good laughs out of the experience and heard some good and bad arguments.) How controversial. Okay, but seriously. Hopefully this will spark some conversation. Please no downright unsupported bashing. Supported arguments and discussions would be great, though. Have fun and enjoy.

And now for something FUN!

1. Go to google.com.

2. Click on Maps.

3. Click on Get Directions.

4. From: New York, New York.

5. To: Paris, France.

6. Then, read line #23.

7. Laugh.

8. Repost.

Just for fun!

Create your own Friend Quiz here

To go or not to go...

Coming this August is going to be the Hug High School class of '97 ten year reunion. For the last eight years I've been swearing that if by some miracle we ended up having a reunion, I absolutely, positively would not go. I didn't really put a whole lot of thought into it, because I was pretty sure it wouldn't happen, seeing that our class officers that year were stoners. (Okay, so I was naive to not realize that practically EVERYONE is a stoner in high school... Even the band geeks.) At any rate, it turns out that we ARE having a reunion, and it is being planned by someone who was NOT a class officer (or a stoner) and whom I was fairly good friends with in middle school and high school. So now I'm kind of wondering if I should go, to see those people that I did consider my friends in high school and see if we can actually have adult friendships. There are a few reasons that I would like to go, and a lot of reasons I could easily talk myself out of it. The reasons TO go are bigger, while the reasons not to are kind of petty. Here's kind of a breakdown of some of the pros and cons (hopefully you get a good laugh out of how completely ridiculous I am):

PROS
*I would have the opportunity to reconnect with the few actual friends I had from my graduating class, most of whom I have not seen for at least five years.
*I would get to find out what's going on in the lives of the people that I grew up with--not so much the high school crowd, but the one's that I experienced K-12 with-- the Lemmon Valley crowd.
*I would have the opportunity to meet/reconnect with guys my age, some of whom (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) could be single.
*It would be a night guaranteed not to be spent at home, which is always a plus for me...

CONS
*There are a lot of people from my class that were just downright mean and I'd rather not see them again. (Hopefully adulthood has changed them, but I have my doubts...)
*I have not had a boyfriend in over eight years (by that time it will be almost nine) and aside from sounding downright pathetic (though I'm happy to be single if it means waiting for the right one) there is the matter that my last boyfriend was a member of my graduating class, and the last time that I saw him he got it into his head that I hadn't had another boyfriend because I was still heartbroken over him--he told all of his friends from our class that this was the case. I picture the whole thing just being an awkward situation...
*I feel the whole purpose of going to a reunion is to brag about our successes, and while I know that this shouldn't be important to me, I feel like I don't really have any success to brag about. My job is average, nothing special, I'm still single, I have no kids, and I still haven't done the one thing that I've ALWAYS wanted to do (write a book). I know I have successes in God's eyes, but those things don't count at class reunions.

The moral of the story is, I know that I'm being kind of stupid in my reasons that I don't want to go--but I'd kind of like to get an idea of what ya'll think of class reunions and whether they're worthwhile...

Life beyond the Evil K (a quick update)

So, as ya'll know, yesterday was my last day at the Evil K. It has been a long couple of weeks, but it's good to finally be finished. Every day that I worked since the day that I put in my notice was like an affirmation that it was time to leave. My manager, while being sugary sweet to my face, said some not very nice things behind my back from what I've heard. This is no surprise. I expected it, but I am glad to be finished with it.
The new job is going well. It's still training for another four weeks. I'm picking things up quickly, which makes things a little boring sometimes, but that's okay. Today was my first day coming home and staying home after my new job. It's been kind of a lazy day. I watched about six episodes of Saved by the Bell on DVD (yeah, I know I'm a dork) and I'm just waiting for 8pm so that I can watch American Idol. And then to bed at a decent hour (at last!) and 7 hours of sleep.
So, that's my update for now. Thanks for stopping by! He he he!

What a funny guy!

Yeah, that's God I'm talking about. He really is one funny guy. And I'm sure you're all wondering WHY I say that he's a funny guy. Let me explain: So, Saturday, as you know by now I received a letter by e-mail saying that I had not received the job that I interviewed for. I was kind of upset, but I didn't get terribly upset because I almost knew it was coming. I told myself things to make it okay, like telling myself that this would just be a good time to go back to school since I'm working swing shift. I coaxed myself into being content and spent the next two days at work trying to make myself like it again, trying to come up with ways to make my workplace better (which by the way is mostly lip service, because the problem people NEVER change).
So anyway, this morning (and this is the reason I'm awake at this absurdly normal hour) I received a phone call at 8:45 am. I looked at the phone, I didn't recognized the number (it was from Colorado) and so I didn't answer. When I listened to the message, it turns out that it was someone from the place where I interviewed and asked me to call them back. I called back right away, and they said that they were calling to offer me the job at A DOLLAR MORE PER HOUR that what I had been told, which is more money than I am making now! So naturally, I told them that yes, I would like to accept the job working Monday through Friday 8-4 with holidays and weekends off and MORE MONEY THAN I'M MAKING NOW!
Now comes the hard part. I have to go put in my notice at the Evil K. 9 out of the other 10 people in the store will be happy for me. The one person who matters (my manager) will be very upset and very vicious. She will talk about me behind my back, she will try to talk me out of it, she will accuse me of being selfish and she will not care about any of the reasons why I might be happier at this new job. So, needless to say, I am a little bit nervous about this whole situation. And then, after I put in my notice, I immediately have to ask her for a favor and request to not start until 4pm all of next week plus the following Tuesday and Wednesday. I do not see this ending well and I am terrified that I will be forced to quit without proper notice, which I do not want to do.
If you read this before about noon, please pray that this interaction would go well and that my manager would be receptive to my reasons as well as my request to start an hour later for six of my remaining eleven work days.

Edit: This does not mean that I'm giving up on preparing for a career. I still intend to start taking classes again as soon as possible, and hopefully will be able to get tuition reimbursement this time around!

Changing Directions

I should be sleeping right now, but once again, I find myself awake and restless. I got a rejection letter today in my e-mail for the job that I interviewed for. I knew on Tuesday that I wasn't going to get the job--not because of anything I did or didn't do in the interview and not for lack of qualifications but because it's just another job. I've been feeling for a while that God wants me to have more than just another job. He wants me to have career. The trouble of it is, it's near impossible to find a career with a degree in English. I guess that's what I get for basing my degree on my passion rather than on my gifts.
I have always loved writing. I have always been great at spelling and grammar--my mother had me revising her letters and other documents when I was in second grade. But that is more of an obsession than a gift. Things just bug me if they're not correct. My real strong point all through school was math. It was the ONLY subject I always had an A in (except middle school when I just didn't get A's, period even though I was on the Math Counts team, which was the middle school equivalent of mathletes. Shut up, I know I'm a nerd). But in high school, despite getting A's without ever studying, I chickened out. I had a friend who failed Trig the year I was in Algebra 3/4 and I chickened out. For some reason I had it in my mind that she was smarter than me and so if she couldn't pass Trig, then I shouldn't even bother. Stupid, I know, but confidence has never been my strong point. Even the fact that the college of Engineering at UNR was trying to recruit me indirectly all through high school because of my math scores didn't convince me that I was smart enough to do it. Besides, my passion was writing, and everyone knows that passion should be the most important factor in determining a college major, right? I mean, since I never wanted to be anything but a writer, isn't it only logical that I should ask myself, "What does one do with a passion for writing (and a passion for theatre)?"
Recently, I have begun to realize that our gifts aren't always our passions. It's kind of depressing for me, but it is a reality. For years I've been trying to fight against the fact that no matter how much passion I have for words, numbers come more easily for me. The most recent example of this I can give you is my GRE (Graduate Record Exam). I took the exam when I was thinking of going to Nashville to get a Masters in Creative Writing. I spent three times longer studying for the verbal portion of the exam as I did for the math since that was the area that I needed to score higher in. I had not taken a math class for 7 years prior to the exam. And then my results come back and I scored better in math than I did on the verbal or the writing portion. After being out of practice for 7 years!
This is very difficult to admit, but the tragic reality is that despite my efforts to deny it, writing is not my gift. Yes, it is my passion, my joy and a way for me to relax and unwind, but it is not my gift. This is not to say I am not good at writing, because I hope I am--but I have had to work very hard on it to get to where I am.
So, if you're still here, reading my rambling, you're probably wondering where I'm going with this. I keep trying to find a reason why God would want me to continue working a schedule where I am isolated, but I haven't found one. I've been promised by my manager that it's going to change soon, but part of me knows that it's not. God kind of put a bug in my ear that this might be a time to try to work on a career for myself. So the plan right now is as follows:
1. Finish paying off my last credit card (only about $1000 to go).
2. Save money to start taking classes.
3. Visit UNR Admissions and Records to see what I need to do to start taking classes again.
4. Take Math 128 through Independent Learning as kind of a refresher/brush up/whatever.
5. Take Calculus to see if I can handle it and see where that takes me.
I swear I have not gone crazy. The problem is that I need to find a career that is going to be challenging for me. I get extremely bored and irritated with doing the EXACT same thing EVERY SINGLE DAY. There has to be room to constantly be learning new things. I have reason to believe that this is why God has kept me at the Evil K for so long. Despite all of the really irritating customers who think they should get their stuff for free and the corporate greed that never seems to end, the job itself is actually somewhat enjoyable. Since we offer so many different services, and since the technology is always changing, there is always something new to learn. It never gets stale. My reason for wanting to leave the Evil K could never be because I have nothing left to learn, because that would never happen. All the same, I still REALLY don't like my schedule, but I suppose I might as well take advantage of it and work on some classes. At least then I will actually see other humans during the day.

Waiting

As some of you know because of my last minute e-mail, I had a job interview yesterday. As far as I know, it went pretty well and they said that they will let me know before the end of the week. I was really praying that I would hear today, because they would need me to start on the 26th, which means that if I got the job, I would have to work at both jobs during that week. The sooner they let me know, the less days I would have to do that. So, after the interview experience, I got another reason to leave the Evil K. Last night I worked a 14 hour shift, getting home at 5 am, just fueling my desire to escape there as soon as possible. I am so nervous, because I really don't know how much longer I can handle the Evil K situation. Please pray that I would hear back about the potential new job TODAY. Love you all!

My Useless Degree

After reading through the blogs a few minutes ago, I found myself almost resentful of some people. After three and a half years, my degree is still useless. It makes me bitter. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for all of the people fortunate enough to be able to use their degrees, to benefit from having spent $20,000 on a college education, but some part of me can't help but ask when will it be my turn.
Right now I'm sorting through jobs, trying to find something that wouldn't involve a serious pay cut, but that would give me a normal schedule. I am so tired of being isolated from everyone because I made a mistake. I know now that I should have never started working swing shift. I know that it was a mistake to take the job because of the money. But how long do I have to be stuck in this? I know that God does not want me to be isolated, and yet here I am, still stuck in a job with a schedule that makes me miserable. Why? I can't figure it out. I just know that I can't deal with anymore nights where I don't get home until 3:30 in the morning. On Thursday night/Friday morning when I called my mom to let her know I was home safe, she was just about to get out of bed to START her day, and mine was just ending. I did receive the opportunity to take an evaluation for a job that I recently applied for. Hopefully I did well and they will be calling me soon for an interview. That is all I can pray for. That is all that will get me through this week at work--the hope that I will soon escape. I know it sounds melodramatic, but I've been too isolated for too long.
The positives of the new job that I'm hoping I get: M-F 8-4 schedule with holidays off. Less expensive insurance with no waiting period. Reimbursement for a gym membership after working there for six months. Overtime is entirely voluntary rather than necessary to doing one's job well. It is still within walking distance of my new apartment. Abundant opportunities for promotion--no chance of topping out soon.
The negatives: It would be a 66 cent per hour pay cut to start. It is a desk job, which I've never worked before, so hopefully I wouldn't be bored. Yeah, that's about it for the negatives.
Please pray that things would start to work out for me soon--that something would change to get me out of this isolation.

Now that I have a working computer again...

I am finally able to give an update of life in the new apartment. I am enjoying having the place to myself and not having to worry about waking someone up if I want a midnight snack. I have been cooking much more and have actually been eating three meals a day, which is something I haven't been doing for quite a while.
Today I had a moment that felt just like my life should be. Mind you, it was just a moment, but it was nice. I walked to the Evil K to print out the fifty pages that I wrote during my vacation a year and a half ago so that I can edit it and make it something usable. After that was done I walked over to Starbucks and bought a coffee and then walked home. As I was walking home I just felt like that represents what I want my life to be. So I don't always feel like my life is what I want it to be, but on a productive day like today, I feel good about my life. I'm hoping that the "loving my life" moments become more frequent this year, because I'm much more productive when I'm content.

Tragic Indifference

I've been attempting to clean and pack, and I found a journal (one of many) that I never completely filled. And I came across a poem that I wrote in March of 2004 that I somewhat recognize as being somewhat relevant, but at the same time, something that I've definitely moved away from over the last couple of years. So here it is in its raw and unrevised form:

Tragic Indifference


What to write, what to say
my thoughts have run dry
I can think of no words,
I've made no time to try.
No time to make my dreams come true
muddling through life with a
tragic indifference--I press on,
just trying to make it through
another bleak and weary day
hoping my life will improve itself
come whatever may.
Just sitting and watching
the minutes, hours and days float by
leaving me behind in a puff of steam,
while I stand alone and stationary
letting my dreams remain dreams.